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Season Five Finale
Hopping out of the passenger’s seat of the Silverado with a rebar staff in hand, Lou approaches a corpse with a burlap sack pressed between his teeth. “Hey, fucker!” the stalwart grunts, calling out for the lonely straggler’s attention as he draws nearer, hearing the hiss and groan that the slow biter reacts to him with. Lifting his arm, the handicapped survivor earmarked for a death later in the day marches forward and plunges his rebar staff into the zombie’s chest, pinning him to the ground. “He looks fresh enough, right?” the one-armed wanderer hisses back, watching as Jules puts the truck in park and disembarks alongside Marta, who stares at her mentor with a slight squint. “I mean, he’s passable” the young woman replies, getting a good look at the undead roamer beneath the sunlight of a new day, her answer proving to be more than enough for the man who requests it. “Awesome” Lou replies, letting the sack fall from his teeth and into his hand, throwing it over the zombie’s head before his protege steps up. “Where are his teeth?” Marta wonders aloud, following the pointed finger of her mentor as she ties a rope around the outside of the burlap bag, setting the cord between the corpse’s teeth in the process to quell the hisses and groans that it reacts with. “How is this supposed to work again?” Jules inquires, grabbing a set of handcuffs out of a crate in the back of the Silverado before approaching the pair. “We bag his head so they don’t recognise him. We tie the bag down, but we keep the rope around the part of the bag where his mouth is so his growls can’t be heard until we untie it” Lou answers, looking toward the truck’s driver with a half grin, “from their perspective, he can’t answer until because rope’s keeping him from it.” “And you really think they’re gonna believe this is their fourth guy?” Jules wonders aloud, grabbing the corpse’s roaming hands before locking them behind his back within the restraints. “They think we’re a bunch of idiots and it doesn’t seem like they’ve seen very much of this world since it started up to know better. To them, they see four people and their only thought is that they’re theirs” Lou answers, “as long as those are the case, let’s use them to our advantage.” “Oh, so that’s why you sent Terry out with the beers” Marta responds, connecting the dots in a manner that prompts her mentor to touch his nose, gesturing that she’s spot-on. “Even if tonight were the night that I was going to die, I’m glad to know you’re getting on well enough without me” Lou jokes, patting his protege on the shoulder with a proud smile as he pries his rebar staff out of the imprisoned corpse’s chest, “I’ve taught you well, young grasshopper.” On the coastline, Terry parks the mangled Wrangler near the base of what was once a pedestrian bridge, watched on by a group of locals across the pond who’d been tasked with standing guard. “Hey, you guys!” the black American calls out, already having earned the attention of the men through his presence alone, his need for it, however, being made clear through his exclamation. Collectively watching on, the five residents of the community look out to find the man who’d beckoned for them as he ventures around the vehicle, unsure of what display he’s meant to be putting on. “Listen, I’ve got a cooler of beer with your names on it if you can just slide me over a little bit of food!” Terry proclaims, taking note of the rugged and roughed-up appearance of the survivors across the way from him, making up a strong assumption that they are just his kind of audience. “We’re not as supplied as you’d think and we’re fucking starving!” the Wrangler’s lone navigator calls out, wheeling out a hefty cooler just as he’d said he owned to the coastline of the frozen river. Taking glances toward each other, the group of woodlanders stationed along the water’s edge gesture quietly, gradually coming around to the same line of thought without speaking a word. As the closest figure to the coastline, one man takes it upon himself to glance over toward enemy lines, nodding in agreement with the proposal before lifting his thumb into the air. Justified in descending toward the level in which the ice sits atop, Terry shrugs before gently placing the heavy container atop the rock-solid sheet of ice, shoving it with all of his might across to the other plot of land. As intended, the smile-wearing men descend to the cooler and collectively work to lift it back upon ground level, digging into it whilst Terry stands across the way with his hands on his hips. “Alright, send the food over!” the man proclaims, hoping that his work for the day has come to an end, keeping the charade up for as long as he can before watching the same nod who’d nodded in agreement stick his hand into the sky and flip the American off. Banding together in a sea of laughter, the recipients of the adversary’s good faith join together in cracking open a set of bottles, clashing their glasses together and taking a swig. “What the hell!? Seriously!?” Terry shouts, throwing his hands out at either side before spitting along the ice, flipping his own middle finger back toward those who’d reneged upon their deal, “fuck you, cowards!” Staying behind just long enough to watch the bystanding soldiers take their first swig, Terry angrily stomps back toward the vehicle that he returns to the wheel of with a smile. “You dumb hicks” he chuckles once in the warmth of his still-running Wrangler, laughing with his own amusement as he pulls back onto the road he and his peers reside upon. “Did they take the bait?” Jules eagerly questions, watching his friend climb out from the Wrangler with the same smile on his face that he’d worn when delivering the cooler. “Hook, line, and sinker. They’ve all taken a swig, you should be good to go” Terry responds, presenting his assurance to the one-armed survivor who’d set the whole plan into motion. “You’ve gotta be fucking idiots to think that this is gonna work!” Lucas proclaims, the only one of the three hostages willing to speak, kicking his feet along the living room’s floor as their four kidnappers re-enter the home. “Why do you say that?” Lou questions, aware of the reason that’s about to be given as he turns toward Terry, quietly extending his hand to the man and curling his fingers inward, concealing this gesture from their captives. “Because they’ll never buy that this zombie is my brother, you fucking idiot!” Lucas exclaims, seated with his hands cuffed behind his back just as the men beside him and the zombie across from him are. “They’ll never know he’s a zombie if all of you have hoods on” Lou rebukes, being handed the object he’d quietly exchanged with Terry in exchange for the rebar staff whilst looking toward Marta, sliding his chin toward the door to silently motion for her to avert her eyes. “You think we won’t be able to tell them when you bring us to the gates!?” Lucas chuckles, tickled pink by the suggestion whilst both Randy and Jimmy squeeze their eyes shut with silent horror. “Oh, shit. Terry! He’s right!” Lou proclaims, feigning a profound sense of shock whilst his protege steps outside, matching the pretend look of sorrow that the man he calls out to presents, “how could we have never thought of that!?” Shrugging his shoulders, Terry plays along with the man’s animated look of distress at the idea that their grand scheme has been undone by the implication their hostage has made. Keeping his dominant hand behind his back, Lou lifts his chin in fake concession whilst letting out a loud sigh, only for his eyes to fall into a squint that he carries toward the man in question. “Hey, quick question for either of you to answer...” the revenge-intending survivor questions aloud, turning to look at the men that occupy the room with him, “...do either of you remember that Pirates of the Caribbean movie that came out last year? I can’t remember when the name of it was.” “Oh!” Terry and Jules proclaim, looking toward each other as if they were characters in a sitcom, answering in unison before setting their sights back upon their friend, “Dead Men Tell No Tales!” *pop pop pop* Firing off one shot at the chests of each hostage, Lou allows Halston’s firearm to hang by his side after revealing it from behind himself, the barrel smoking from the quick succession of rounds. “Is it over!?” Marta calls out, wincing at the noises that she knows the meaning behind, but remaining stood on the porch until the deed has been done. “Yeah, it’s done” her mentor answers back, handing the pistol back to the leader of their group’s American side before reclaiming his rebar weaponry. Re-entering the room, Marta finds perfectly-placed bullet wounds staining their prisoner’s shirts with blood and her peers keeping track of their inventory. “Alright, we’ve got three bullets left in this thing” Terry remarks, sliding the magazine back into the firearm whilst the man who’d expended the last three takes his eyes toward the ceiling. “Halston, you continue to do right by us” Lou mutters, pointing the tip of his spear into the heavens with a hearty smile. “She’s only doing right by us if this all goes according to plan” Terry responds, a correction that the men standing beside him are reassured in the accuracy of. “As long as those last bullets don’t get wasted until the right time, that girl’s bravery to somehow sneak a gun into school has worked out for the best” Jules states, watching as his friends nod. “Are you sure you’re alright going by yourself, Lou?” Marta questions aloud, watching as her mentor turns back with a reassured nod. “When I get my hands on some poor schmuck, I think it’ll be safer to assume they’ll give me the desired reaction as long as they see me alone. It’d also be easier to corral the others if I’m on my own” Lou answers, jutting his chin toward the men he leaves her in the company of, “besides, I know Terry and Jules will look after you.” “We’ve got you covered, ‘female Lou’” Jules chirps with a grin, earning a humoured grin from his peers, especially from the woman in question and the figure who’d influenced it. For a few seconds, the morbid amusement that brings the foursome together begins to pass, moving aside in favour of the task that leaves them with three bodies and one corpse in the corner of the room to be dealt with. “Alright, buddy. I guess it’s time for you to get moving” Jules remarks, turning to face the one-armed soldier who prepares to return to wandering on his lonesome. “Yeah, we’re not getting ourselves into this kind of trouble just for you to go and get yourself killed anyway!” Terry proclaims, watching Lou end the embrace with one man before stepping toward the one who issues him a warning, “keep yourself safe, brother!” “I will, Terry. You keep true and do the same, alright?” the readied traveller answers, patting his friend on the back as their hug comes to an end. “You fucking bet, man” Terry proclaims, stepping back before confidently patting his friend on the arm, watching as the glue to their group turns around to address the final piece to their plan. “We’ll be back around each other before you know it, Female Lou” Lou quips, watching his protege wipe away a tear from her eye before wrapping her arms around the man who’d helped her make it this far, trying to subdue this sinking feeling that their paths may never cross again. “Everything’s going to be okay, Marta” the man assures, trying his best to hold back emotions of his own, refusing to display anything other than confidence to those he can’t guarantee he’ll ever see again. “You’re damn right it will, Lou” Marta whimpers through unsteady breath, fighting to keep her composure intact as she buries her chin into her mentor’s shoulder. Assured in his stance, Lou presses his eyes shut to revel in their embrace, feeling the weight of a moment that sustains an enduring heart more than it otherwise should. Succumbing to the gravity of their hug, Lou presses his lips to the side of the woman’s face and ends their hold by kissing her on the cheek. Nodding to himself, the man quickly centres his focus on the home’s front door whilst his protege watches on, waiting to concern herself with the peck he’d given her until after he’d wandered off. “Alright, boys...” the man proclaims, turning back for one, final moment in an effort of bidding his friends adieu, “...it’s showtime.” = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = As the sun begins setting, Darla remains seated in the van that keeps behind the slightest amount of cover, waiting for the survivors that dictate which direction the evening is bound to swing in. “Are you sure you want to do this, Darla?” Don’s voice questions, carried through the walkie talkie that the camp’s commander wears on her hip, drawing the woman’s ire. “Don, if I have to keep justifying my calls to you, this little asshole isn’t going to be the only person I kill tonight” Darla groans back, visibly irritated by not only the question her husband asks, but simply by the sound of his voice. “Shut your fucking mouth and make sure those brats in the basement don’t move a fucking muscle” she scathes, not willing to hear any opinion other than the one she’s come to. Pressing his hand against his forehead from the migraine that his wife’s retort worsens, Don nods to himself before answering accordingly. “Yes, dear. I understand” he responds whilst turning for the stairs, returning to the home’s ground level whilst their hostages remain coupled together. In collective silence, the ten survivors remain within their unpleasant confines, watched over by a single guard that uses the carport beyond the cellar’s outside entrance as cover from falling snow. “So, what do you think Lou has planned?” Sebastian wonders aloud, surveying the down-trodden group for answers, unsure of what’s to be expected. “I just hope it’s not what I think we’re all fearing it will be” Jenn remarks, watching as the Canadian leader’s face turns its attention toward her, a few seconds being taken before he catches onto what she’s implying. “You can’t be serious” Sebastian rejoinders, dragging himself in the direction which the woman’s voice had emerged from, trying to get leverage against the plastic ties that fix his hands behind his back. “It can’t be discounted” Ally confesses with a look of horror, her rigid stare held toward the ground as her mind wraps itself around the possibility that the night may end as it’s been suggested. “He wouldn’t just turn himself in!” Sebastian hisses back, trying to keep his voice low enough for the soldier outside the carport-side entrance to not overhear. “Lou is absolutely the kind of person willing to let himself be killed so the rest of us make it out alive” Jenn rebukes, lowering her eyebrows as she dispels any opposing thought, “the only way he isn’t marching up to that woman to surrender himself is if the others managed to talk him out of it.” “Then that’s what happened” Sebastian concludes, choosing to remain optimistic that some sort of plan has been put in the works to ensure their safety. Settling to agree with disagreeing, Jenn quiets herself down as the room falls beneath a hush once more, remaining that way for a few seconds without any interruption further than Don’s footsteps walking along the floor one level above. “I thought he died back when we were still at the school” Ally confesses, failing to create movement in her eyes from the blank spot on the concrete that they glue themselves to. “It was before we managed to get the horde inside the gym. They’d surrounded us outside the cafeteria” the woman recalls, horrified by the feelings she can remember enduring in the moment his face had fallen from her view. “He told me to get inside, but I didn’t want to leave him out there on his own” Jenn interjects, her comment provoking a nod over the brunette, the only other soul present to recall the events with any sort of familiarity. “He shoved you in and closed the door. He was there, and then... one second later... he just wasn’t” Ally remarks, the rattled tone in her voice making it clear that the memory still sits hauntingly present with her. “I thought he’d died. I didn’t... there just didn’t seem like a way out” Ally murmurs, leaning down to wipe her teary-eyed face on her shoulder, growing further concerned that such a fate may bestow him within moments from now. Stewing in her seat, Jenn uses the collective quiet that comes over the group to lose herself in the same thought that drives her into a fighting spirit, biting down on her bottom lip as she drags herself up against the brick wall they’ve been placed beside. “What are you doing?” Darnell queries, watching as the woman subdues the groans of pain that come with her defiant act of self-preservation. “When we were escaping the school, Lou got stabbed in the arm. After a few days, it got infected... That’s why the people on the boat cut it off” Jenn responds quietly, grinding her wrists against the rough stone that grates away at her flesh, drawing blood whilst also cutting against the zip ties her hands are bound by. “He told me that, if he didn’t make it through whatever was making him sick, he wanted me to take over and lead the group” Jenn grunts, wincing in pain as her skin is carved away at, progress being made through the ties nevertheless. “Well, when we made it to shore in Canada, I did that. But then, Halston and I got split up. So... I felt like I failed” she continues, sharply hissing as she whacks her pisiform bone against the stone on accident. “Anyway, I sat on my ass and let Sebastian, or Terry, or Lou himself take the lead instead” Jenn grunts quietly, fighting through the pain as she continues dwindling down the restraint. “Fuck it, though. If he wanted me to take over, I’ll take over and stop him from getting himself killed” she sighs, fighting valiantly to free herself without surrender, seeing her results pay off when the glossy cuffs snap from the pressure and release her from forced captivity. “Fuck yes!” Sebastian whispers, watching as Jenn stares toward the ceiling with her mouth agape, rubbing the palms of her hands against her torn-up arms for a moment before leaping into the moment. Shaking off the pain, the increasingly brunette warrior reaches toward a stone on the ground and takes toward the restraints tying Ally’s hands back, sneakily moving on from one member of the group to the next in an attempt to gain their independence from those who’d snagged them. | Leaving the Wrangler parked at the coastline, Lou descends the grassy hill separating him from the water before stepping atop the thick layer of ice that had built atop it. Confidently strolling along, the lone wanderer touches down upon Dawn’s community without issue, dressed in a freshly made gorecoat and wearing the innards of the undead in streaks over his face. Driving his spear through the chests of one unconscious soldier after another, Lou brings justice upon Terry’s earlier mistreatment by ending the lives of those who’d embraced the twist-top beer glasses with too much ease. Carrying along his journey, the handicapped stalwart spends the dying hours of what had been planned as his final sunset traipsing through the woodland and bramble as the snow begins to fall over Golden, emerging in a residential area and approaching the first home he finds. “Oh my god!” a young man with a buzzcut proclaims, opening his front door to find the adversary of the evening storming inside. “Good evening, sir. I don’t mean to be a bother to you this evening, I’m just a little lost” Lou greets, dressed in the same muck as the dead as he invades the resident’s home, pointing the tip of his bo staff in the man’s face, “can you direct me toward Darla’s home? You know Darla, right? She’s the leader of your little camp? Do you know where she lives?” “Yes! Yes! Yes, I do! Yes!” the horrified civilian exclaims, tripping over a lump in the rug before crawling up to the wall that prevents him from retreating any further. “She lives eight blocks away! Go to the end of this road and turn right, walk for about ten minutes until you get to 9th Street!” the man pleads, on the verge of tears that his instincts refuse to grant him permission to let loose, “she lives in a white house with a blue railing! It’s right next to an unfinished, brown house!” “What’s in the front yard of that brown house!?” Lou questions aloud with widened eyes, watching the trembling hands of the man present themselves in surrender. “A big, overgrown flower bush!” the resident exclaims in a panic, providing the intruder with all the information that he needs. Nodding to himself approvingly, Lou drives his sharpened staff through the tenant’s throat before ripping it free with ease. “Sorry, buddy. I made Darla a promise, and you’re part of it” the stalwart explains, living up to the ‘silver slayer’ monicker he’s been branded with through the most nefarious ways, “on the bright side, you’re the tenth person to tell me about the overgrown flower bush. So, at least I believe you’re telling me the truth.” *pop, pop pop* In quick succession, gunfire rings through the distance accordingly, prompting Lou to set his sights upon the pattern-abiding onslaught agreed upon. Pulling away from his victim, the gunman departs the home and leaves the front door he’d forced his way through open, leaving behind multiple rows of houses that remain in a very similar fashion. Totalling nearly fifty, the residential plots that Lou leaves behind open entrances suggest his word has been kept to a grizzly tee. | “Where’s the boy?” Darla calls out, stepping up to the front gates to find a Silverado’s headlights shining into the distance, bouncing off the frozen riverside they take aim at. “He doesn’t trust you enough to keep your word. Honestly, we don’t either. But someone has to come out here and handle this...” Terry proclaims, leading a pair of restless men at the barrel of their own rifle, “...so, here we are.” “This wasn’t the deal” Darla replies, kept from speaking any further by the adamance of the group’s lone female speaker, who hands off her inmate to Jules. “No, the deal you made was that someone needed to be punished for a crime that was never committed” Marta rebukes, retreating for the steering wheel of the Silverado with her arms thrown out at either side, “it’s not our fault that you convinced yourself of a lie!” “Yeah, you heard the girl! The boy can’t do the time for a crime he didn’t commit” Terry proclaims, stepping forward with Jules as Marta closes the door to the driver’s seat. “You snatched our people at gunpoint in broad daylight. The fact that we aren’t looking to punish you for instigating this whole mess is more than enough to prove our ability to be trusted” the American side’s leader commands, stopping his group’s progression halfway to the front gate. “You, on the other hand, don’t have our friends. For all we know, you could’ve already killed them by now” Jules doubles down, coming to the same halt that his brother in arms does. “So before we change our minds and start wanting some reparations for the damage you’ve caused, I’d suggest you meet us halfway... literally” Terry concludes, leaning off to one side with the rifle’s barrel held upon his hostage’s lower back, “if you want your boys, come get them.” Flaring his nostrils with dissatisfaction, Darla surveys the scene for a moment as her displeasure with being incapable of enacting revenge upon someone it can’t be inflicted to settles. Glancing toward her armed reinforcement, the compound’s leader rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh, shaking her head as she pushes past the gate, entering territory she usually refrains from chartering with a finger pointed and her guard lowered. “When you get back to that boy, you make sure to remind him how lucky he is!” the woman declares, splitting her attention between both men as she draws nearer, “he may not have to pay for it this time, but he really needs to learn some manners before he gets in-!” Taking advantage of the aim on their weapons, Terry and Jules wait for the right moment to blow holes through the chest cavities of their restrained prisoners, firing rounds through the corpse’s guts and blasting the overweight woman with the remnants of their shells. “Shots fired!” the armed reinforcements proclaim, only for much louder gunfire than the ones that the hostage zombies had subdued to ring through the air from the Silverado. Squeezing the trigger, Marta guns down the soldiers who’d accompanied their leader to the front gates whilst their desired victim hunches over. Stricken with loose parts from the brass jackets that had been fired at her, Darla cradles her stomach and chest with both arms before the men who’d advanced upon her set their ultimate plan into motion. Undoing the ties that had held their hostage’s hoods into plan, Terry and Jules unleash their foursome of corpses upon the woman that their teeth rip into. “Let’s move! Come on!” the leader of the American side of the group proclaims, waving his hand forward as he retreats to the Silverado, hopping into the back as Marta waits to pull away from the bridge. Despite having their hands restrained in handcuffs, the reanimated corpses overwhelm the already-wounded Darla and pin her to the ground, viciously ripping into her flesh with their rotten teeth as she screams in peril. “Serves you right, bitch!” Jules shouts, joining his friends in capturing a final look at the victimised leader, whose devouring at the hands of the dead sets in motion the signal that Terry had been waiting for, firing three rounds into the sky through the lowered, rear window. *pop, pop pop* | “I’ve almost got it!” Ally whispers, slicing free Christina’s restraints before moving onto Sonya, the reclaimed tomahawk the Elsie wields assisting Jenn in freeing Josie near the back corner. “Who’s left?” Sebastian whispers, looking toward the lifted chin of Darnell, whose face pulls back in shock as the sound of a struggle emanates just beyond the cellar, bringing the hurried attempt at regaining freedom to a momentary halt. Clustered together in a pause, the ten survivors stare amongst each other patiently as they wait for the figure that draws near to the door, those who’d been freed from their zip tie-imprisonment now coupling their hands behind their backs so as to appear as if they weren’t belligerent. Calmly and politely twisting the cellar door’s knob, Lou steps into the concrete entombment his peers had been sentenced to as he escapes the falling snow just beyond the carport. Not having expected to discover his peers so soon after entering, the gut-covered man looks on with surprise at the survivors that he encounters with relative ease, scanning the scene of ten widened eyeballs before finding the one set he’d hoped to find most. “Ally!” he proclaims, watching the woman leap off the ground and run into the man’s open arm and a half, freeing the nine others to return to their various attempts at aiding each other out of their captivity. “Careful, I’m covered in gu-!” Lou warns, only for his proclamation to be disregarded as his brunette soulmate wraps her arms around his body, pulling him in for a hug without care over what he’s draped in. “Christina, go keep a look out! We’re almost ready to go!” Darnell remarks, gesturing for the lady to hurry through the cellar’s door and sneak her way into the front of the building. “I was so fucking worried, Lou! You have no idea!” Ally tearfully proclaims, pressing her face into the man’s gut coverage-free neck as Darnell steps around them, reclaiming the rifle that the guard who’d been stationed just outside the door had dropped. “I’m fine! You’re fine! We’re all fine! Everything’s okay!” Lou cheerfully laughs, repeatedly kissing the woman’s cheek before their bodies pull away, their lips locking together as the sound of more zip ties snapping fills the room. “We thought you were going to be crazy enough to give yourself in!” Jenn proclaims, standing upright before watching Darnell approach, handing her the rifle that he’d snatched off the soldier’s body. “Are there any other guns out there? I only found these two” the mostly-unfamiliar survivor inquires, holding the other weapon he hadn’t surrendered to someone else, receiving a shake of Lou’s head in return. “No, there were only two guards outside. Those should be the only two guns” the gore-covered hero of the evening responds, quickly addressing the concern at hand before answering the comment raised toward him. “No, I didn’t even give it a thought. But we probably shouldn’t hang around here for too long...” Lou replies, stepping past his girlfriend to address the woman who he’d once deemed to be his successor-in-waiting, “...I’ve, uh... I’ve kinda killed, like, a hundred people in the last hour.” To a crowd of silence, the man’s admission of guilt brings a collective failure to fully comprehend what had been said amongst the entire group, who quickly make their best effort at moving past the comment. “Alright, I’m not even going to ask how that... How you, or what you, or how you managed...” Jenn stutters, eventually opting to wave her hands at the man and dismiss the conversation such a confession brings altogether, “...how the hell do we get out of here?” “We’ll see if we can grab a car. If we can’t, we’ll make it out on foot” Lou responds, scanning the gathering of his friends who’ve seemingly been fully freed from their restraints. “The river is frozen over, so if we can’t get across a bridge, we’ll just run over the water and meet back up with the others at the house” the man reassures, finding little argument against the proposition. “How long until the people you killed come back from the dead?” Josie questions from off to the side, watching the uncertain shake of the man’s head answer her inquiry. “I’m sure we have enough time to get away from that danger, everything else... I’m not sure” Lou responds, surveying the group before watching an enthusiastic Darnell inspect the rifle he wields, “everyone ready to head back?” “They piled our shit up on that desk over in the corner” Ally responds, approaching the cellar door that the only man with a rifle begins to meet her at, “Elsie and Josie have their tomahawks, and most of us didn’t have anything on us when we got sna-” *POP POP* Firing off with enough force to shatter nearby windows, a rifle cascades a pair of bullets into the cellar from within the carport, cutting the woman’s comments short and forcing most of the survivors to duck. Having briefly taken toward the ground, Darnell wields the weight of the firepower he’s come into the possession of to carry himself forward, watching Ally step away from the door and clear him a line of sight toward the man just beyond it. *POP POP POP* Returning rounds toward the initial aggressor, the group’s unlikely hero brings a rifle-wielding Don to the ground with the first two shots before the third splits through the man’s head mid-collapse, killing him instantly. “I got him! I got him!” Darnell proclaims, ducking around the door’s frame to check the coast, continuing to approach the homeowner to ensure the threat has been neutralised. “Is anyone hurt!?” Jenn calls out, looking back to her friends as they drift toward each other near the spot in which they’d been held captive, only to feel the weight of another tumble into her, falling into her arms. “Ally!” she exclaims as the girl’s boyfriend hurls his rebar staff into the unoccupied corner of the room and races to the pair of women that forcibly huddle together. Relinquishing her rifle, Jenn catches Ally as best she can before joining her in getting low to the ground, feeling tremendous relief as Lou races to their aid. “What happened!?” the man exclaims in a panic, pulling his girlfriend off of the lady she’d collapsed into, dropping to both knees as he realises his soulmate can’t bring herself to stand beneath her own power. “I don’t know! I don’t know! What’s wrong with her!?” Jenn answers in a frenzy, following Lou in lowering the woman to the ground as gently as he can. “Lou...” Ally gasps, blood staining her teeth as they present themselves out of pain, the extent of her wounds made apparent through the warm rush of liquid that stains her boyfriend’s hand as it rests beneath her back. “Ally! Ally! Oh, FUCK!” Lou stammers, pulling his hand away from her back without yet noticing the deep shade of red that covers his palm, reacting with horror once he does. “It hurts! It hurts!” Ally groans, tilting her chin into the air as her face fills with agony, her boyfriend’s hand trying his best to hold her steady despite the tremble in it. “SONYA! HELP! NOW!” Lou barks, looking at the survivor with terror as his girlfriend lets out soft shrieks of pain. “It’s gonna be okay! It’s gonna be okay, Ally!” he pleads, making room for the only woman with medical practise to provide whatever assistance she can, “HELP HER!” “SHE’S SHOT, LOU! I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO!” Sonya shouts back, seeing a panic arise across the face of a man she’d rarely known to be anything less than composed. “STOP THE BLEEDING! JUST FUCKING DO SOMETHING!” Lou barks, watching the girl stammer around looking in every direction she can manage, frenziedly hurrying to find anything of use without knowing what to look for. “Lou...” Ally whimpers, hissing with pain as her teeth press together with each ounce of her might, too shocked by the anguish to fully give into the gravity of her wounds, “...I’m... I’m dying...” “No! No, you’re not!” Lou assures, tears streaming down his face as it beats a bright red, the rebuttal he provides only further forcing tears upon his beloved’s face. “...I’m... I... am...” Ally forces herself to nod through a clenched jaw, the declaration being shot down instantly by the man who cradles her in his arms through her final moment. “No! No, you’re... you’re not!” Lou argues, unable to finish the retort before bursting into tears, his shout having died down into a faint, tear-filled whisper. “We’re gonna fix you up! You’re gonna be good as new, okay!?” he continues to softly cry, feeling the woman’s hand tightly grasp the lone one he wields, its bloody palm pressing against the side of Ally’s face whilst its thumb gently caresses her cheek. Watching in horror as her bleeding friend presses her eyes shut, Jenn sits on the floor with her hands covering her face, silently losing control of her emotions and blubbering aloud. Fighting through her own panicked tears, Sonya hurriedly digs through every small drawer and cabinet to be found before her sister’s hands pull her away, refusing her the ability to continue slaving over trying to help someone who cannot be saved. “I love you...” Ally murmurs in as weak of a whisper as her boyfriend speaks to her in, squeezing a tear through her eyelids as her aching expression gradually eases, the suffering that she endures beginning to go away, fading off and entering her into a peaceful and painless rest. “I love you! I love you! It’s...” Lou hisses back, sobbing as he presses his head against his lover’s own, kissing her forehead as he holds her face, protecting it from the world that had enacted its cruelty upon her. “It’s going to be okay, Ally...” Lou whispers, lowering his head just enough as he feels the strength in her hand lessen, its grip on his palm easing up with it, “...it’s all going to be okay.” For a few seconds, he whispers the same line as Courtney holds her weeping sister close, the rest of the group looking on with defeat at being unable to intervene. Breaking into thousands of pieces at the sight of her own greatest tragedy befalling those she loves as their own shared fate, Jenn’s body drops into the ground as she succumbs to sorrow. Falling quieter the more he feels his beloved’s hand lose its power, Lou’s voice grows faint as his repeated quips for reassurance start giving out, the same hope he’d attempted to provide dying the second Ally’s hand finally falls from his, dropping to the ground lifelessly. “Everything’s going to be...” Lou sighs, tapering off before he can finish, feeling the weight in Ally’s body deplete as her life does, its signal bringing an end to her misery and a beginning to his own. “It’s... It’s going...” the man attempts to continue, unable to do so regardless of where in the statement he attempts to start off, never being able to bring it to the same place of closure that’s been forever stripped from him, “it’s... it...” Shattering apart, Lou breaks into a sea of tears that refuse him any further opportunity to defiantly march on, the fall of his world having been brought upon the fall of his love. Openly sobbing, the man’s voice falls into silence, only lament to be paid over Ally’s body as the Canadian winter sheds frozen tears in the form of snow, which pelt the town just like tears pelt the concrete foundation the remaining survivors stand upon- victory having never looked and felt like such defeat. == RISE and REVOLT ==
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“We didn't come from back in town, we came from Vancouver” Sebastian responds, watching the dismissive shake of the overweight woman’s head refuse him the belief he’d hoped his claim would be met with. “I don’t believe you” Darla replies, giving her husband a side-eye the second he speaks up, attempting to remind her to keep an open mind.
Tucking her hands into the pockets of her jean jacket, the middle-aged woman sits on a grey chair halfway between the chesterfield and grandfather clocks that occupy either side of the living room. “We were only passing through here on the way to Calgary” Sebastian continues to double down, not straying from the story he knows to be true even if it’s hard for an outsider to believe, “we’ve been following the train tracks since we left Kelowna around four or five days ago.” “Are you and your friends stupid then?” Darla inquires, comforted enough in the restraints that tie her prisoner’s hands behind his back as he sits in the folding chair directly opposite herself. “What would you be doing driving from Vancouver to Calgary for? Any family or friends you people may have out there died a long time ago” the woman clarifies, stopping her line of thought once she finds Sebastian’s head shaking, not wanting to waste her breath uttering pointlessness. “We’re not going out there for people” the unlawfully imprisoned survivor reiterates, “some of the people in our group know of a place out there where we can plant crops and raise cattle when the weather gets better.” Having become used to interrupting the man after each comment that’s made, Darla’s pattern-stopping silence offers an opening for the prisoner to continue lending context to his claim, attempting to lend credit to his story with each new layer of detail he provides. “We’d initially been staying in a camp on Vancouver Island. Some bad people showed up, a fight broke out, and we ended up on a boat to the city” Sebastian continues, splitting his attention between the seated woman across from him and the husband that stands beside her with his arms crossed. “We moved around a little bit, found a camp and stayed there for a day or two” he continues, “we’d all talked about going east to Calgary by then, so when it came to making a call, that was the place to go.” “And you didn’t think about how unsafe it was?” Darla questions back, shaking her head with a loss to the rationale behind the group’s motivation. “It doesn’t matter. We have to get there before the weather gets warm so we can get ready for when the warm weather does come” Sebastian answers, looking toward the parlour’s window and at the deep shade of blue that the setting sun leaves the sky a shade of, “we’re about four or five days away from there at our current rate.” “And you’re just prepared to-?” Don inquires, stopping when he hears the click of his wife’s tongue, turning to find her body turned toward him and a displeased expression held in the direction of his own. Falling silent, the man allows his eyes to take toward the carpeted floor whilst his wife resumes her end of the conversation. “What about those people we left behind? Those people in that home?” Darla questions, “who are they?” “They’re people you don’t want to be on the wrong side of” Sebastian answers, providing the woman with a vague response for the first time since being seated for an interrogation. “Why is that? Are they cops? Are they army generals?” Darla queries, shrugging her shoulders with straightened lips, not taking the man’s claim seriously. “No. For one of them, you’ve taken her father. For two of the others, you’ve taken people they’ve known since they escaped Los Angeles together” Sebastian responds, watching the woman’s eyes drift away with the least intrigued glare she can manifest. “What about the last one?” Don questions aloud, keeping track of the people he was informed of, only registering three claims in what’s presented to him by the group’s Canadian leader, “you only mentioned three.” “The last one is the one you have to look out for. He’s the reason you’re not safe here” Sebastian responds, triggering an amused chuckle from the woman that spills out of the top of her jeans. “Are we talking about that cripple with the big stick?” Darla questions aloud, humoured at the notion he’d be capable of presenting them with a downfall of any sort, “what threat would he pose that the other, more-capable people out there wouldn’t?” “The fact that he’s probably the only thing that keeps us unified” Sebastian answers without missing a beat, looking his captor in the eyes with a slightly lowered tone, issuing the proper gravity behind his claims, “the fact that you’ve also kidnapped his girlfriend won’t bode very well for you either.” Using the nail on her left hand’s middle finger to scratch at her eyebrow, Darla reacts to her hostage’s claims with a sarcastic nod as she steps out of her chair. “Pete, bring this man back to the basement and make sure his friends are behaving themselves” she orders, attempting to walk past her prisoner before hearing his voice as it whispers up toward her, preventing the community’s apparent leader from leaving without a warning. “If you want us out of your hair, all you have to do is send us on our way” Sebastian explains, locking eyes with the lady who refuses to find it within herself to take his claims seriously, “but if you don’t do that, no one here can help you from making a terrible mistake.” Her straight face remaining intact for a few moments, all that the denim-clad survivor reacts with is a feigned smile before she quietly steps past, venturing toward the rest of her home without a rebuttal. = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = Having been spared from being grabbed by those who’d taken off with their friends by their scoping of the home, those that await for nightfall to bring about a sign as to where their assailants camp out reside within it, seeking it for refuge. Staring directly at the front door with his rebar staff in tow, the lone wanderer remains unwilling to rest until those that had been taken from them are returned safely and unharmed, his eyes refusing to close for anything longer than a blink. “We’re going to get her back” Marta states, having seated herself to the man’s left side for so long that her presence had eventually become forgotten by the man whose mind is clouded by thoughts of violent rage and ultimate vengeance. Without uttering a word at first, Lou sets his attention upon the protege beside him and just stares, his expression having gone unchanged at the sound of her voice. “We’re going to get them back” he corrects, a conclusion that the young woman had already come to, but had allowed to settle elsewhere in favour of specific reassurance. “You’re right. But I know that there’s one person on your mind more than all the others right now. That’s the person I want you to know that we’re going to get back” Marta replies, watching her mentor’s face set forward once more, fixating on the front door that falling raindrops can be heard through. “It’s alright to admit it. I’m thinking about my dad more than I’m thinking about anyone else right now” the woman confesses, failing to draw her mentor’s sights back toward her, though she’s aware that his ears are caught by her claims. “It doesn’t matter what kind of rough patch you guys are going through. You don’t love her any less than you did a week ago” Marta doubles down, staring at the side of the man’s distant face, “we all have our reason for going on, and she’s yours.” “I let her get caught” Lou responds, wasting little time past his protege’s comments to address the situation as a whole, a self-tormenting whisper carrying his claims into the air. “If I had been out there, I could’ve done something. I could’ve put up a fight, or I could’ve kept them from at least taking her” he continues, speaking through the vehement shake of the head that his protege rejoinders with in quick succession. “I don’t know what would have happened to me or the others, but I know I could’ve at least stopped them from grabbing Ally” Lou further declares, hearing his friend’s voice argue against such a conclusion without paying it any reasonable mind. “That’s-” Marta begins, stopped immediately as her mentor’s face swings toward her, filled with assurance in the words that he speaks and in the beliefs that he wields like weaponry in the heat of battle. “I will never forgive myself if something happens to her, Marta” Lou interjects, staring through eyes of vindication at the woman whose voice had been forced into silence, a quietude that permeates through the room. Holding his blank stare through the palpable hush, the mentor refuses to back his visage from the eyes of his protege, who sees an unrelenting determination in the man’s stare beyond any expression she’d ever seen from him before. “Across the river!” Terry exclaims, shouting aloud the information that the pair of residents within the home had been waiting for. “There’s a few lights and some smoke lifting up from across the river a bit south!” Jules doubles down, the declaration immediately lighting a fire in the eyes of the staff-wielding stalwart, who carries a stare launched with the weight of a societal menace as he springs from the ground, watched on by his protege, who worriedly takes off to follow in his lead. | “Where are they?” Darla shouts aloud, already prepared to leap through the open doors of the minivan that kicks up dirt and mud along the freshly-cleared roadways of the small town’s southern half. “They’re outside the front gate, ma’am” a man in a blue flannel replies, waiting for the woman to disembark the vehicle before joining alongside her, his rifle carried in the same manner as the four other men who accompany her. “You said they have hostages?” the woman questions, shifting with the weight of the large vehicle before climbing down once it reaches a stop, marching forward with a purpose once her feet touch down upon solid ground. “They have three. Randy, Jimmy, and Lucas” the soldier replies, hearing his commander drop the name of the one soul he holds no certainty over, “I haven’t heard of Perry. He’s not with them.” Pressing her lips together, Darla steps away from her guard’s side and carries on toward the vehicular intrusion that prevents the outsiders from being granted free entry to their well-guarded compound. With flaring nostrils, the woman takes ownership of the rifle that is handed to her by one of her subordinates, approaching one side of the chain-link gate they’d fixed between the stacks of automobiles and pressing her back against the accumulation of crushed shells. “I’ve been told you have three hostages” the woman’s voice proclaims, her face held toward the direction of the community’s entrance, but she refuses to speak from out of her makeshift cover. “You’ve been well informed” Lou replies, standing ahead of his peers, but closest to Marta, with his rebar staff in hand, each of his friends holding the barrels of a rifle to the back of their captives, whose hands are tied behind their backs and knees are embraced by the ground. “What’s your play here?” Darla questions back after nothing more than a few seconds, looking into the distance as she’s met with silence at first, not brought upon by hesitancy, but rather the shrug from the man she speaks with. “There’s not much of a play here. I’m willing to jot this all down to being one massive misunderstanding” Lou answers, curling his bottom lip outward as he stares in the community’s direction, “you give me back my friends and I’ll give you back yours.” “We’re missing four people. From what I’ve gathered, you only have three hostages” Darla replies, opting not to waste much time between each comment, “and even if it were that simple, we have all ten of your friends. It seems like a pretty bad trade to give up ten people for four.” Smirking, Lou stares at the ground for a moment as he calmly lets the tip of his staff rest against the ground, humoured by the idea it seems his adversary has cultivated. “Are you under the belief that I’m here to make a deal with you?” the handicapped traveller wonders aloud, holding a deep squint in the direction of the community’s entrance. “You took my friends hostage, and now I’ve taken yours hostage. As far as I’m concerned, you’re lucky to even still be alive” Lou doubles down, commanding an attention from the woman that she hadn’t expected to give. “This isn’t a negotiation. This is me giving you a chance to keep your little operation here intact” the man continues, the beard and overgrown hair that he adorns now matching the mannerisms he presents to the group that stands in his way. “I don’t take kindly to threats” Darla interjects, only for her comment to immediately be addressed by the man opposite her walls. “Oh, lady. I don’t want you getting the wrong idea here. That isn’t a threat, that is a warning” Lou responds, lifting his dagger off the ground as he approaches the compound’s entrance. “Do you know what kind of shit we have seen out here? Can you even imagine what we’ve done along the way?” the man continues, gradually drawing closer to the community’s entrance with his bo staff draped upon his shoulder. “I don’t need to know what you’ve done or where you’ve been to know what the situation looks like right now” Darla answers, speaking with such speed that she fails to notice the footsteps drawing nearer to her. “Here’s how this goes... You have three people to trade, and we have ten. If you want your friends back, you’ll need to come up with more” the community’s shot-caller explains, leaning further into the wall of vehicles as she stares into the distance, “I’d suggest you-” Pressing his nose through the gaps in the gate’s structure, Lou bellows out a long, one-note whistle that immediately captures the middle aged woman’s focus, the drawn out tune dropping one note before continuing on for as long as the original and ceasing entirely. “I’ll do you one better than that” the one-armed stalwart replies, having stepped far enough ahead of his group to the point where only he and those around the woman can hear what’s being calmly spoken. “I’ll offer you a piece of advice that my friends gave to people who weren’t willing to listen back on Vancouver Island” Lou draws onward, standing with the slightest lean as he stares Darla in the eyes, her figure having approached that of her visitors now that his proximity makes it impossible to hide. “You can settle in here and wrangle up all you can, but it won’t make much of a difference. At some point, all it takes is one bad harvest” the man explains, allowed to speak through the silence that the woman provides him. “No amount of guns, or protection from the dead, or protection from the living, or fuel, or water, or safety will change what happens when people start starving” Lou assures, a conclusion that is as difficult to argue against as it always has been. “I’ll go out on a limb here and assume that you’re the person in charge. What do you think will happen when people can’t feed their families or themselves? What happens when hunger is a bigger threat than the dead ever could be?” Lou queries, watching the slightest shift in Darla’s face takes shape, though he can’t decipher what emotion is represented in it. “I’m sure you already know that we were trying to get to Calgary before you so rudely interrupted us, but maybe it’s a good thing that you did” the man proposes, lifting his eyebrows in a show of changed outlooks. Turning back toward his group, Lou allows his staff’s end to press into the ground with every step as if it were a cane, returning to the side of those that he’d walked up to the front gates alongside. “It’s dawned on me over the last few days that we might be better off building a community instead of a little home in the field. Our odds of making our trip to Calgary worthwhile might be better off that way” Lou explains, looking toward Jules with a smirk as he does so. “If we go run off and get you whatever supplies you need, it’ll only be a matter of time before you run out” the stalwart continues, turning back toward the woman once he’s returned to his remaining friends. “We’ve brought two sides together into one before, there’s no reason we can’t pull off the same kind of magic again” Lou quips, settling on presenting his case with as much certainty as he can manage, aware that exchanging supplies worth seven lives is not feasible. “Come with us. Let’s put this brief spat in the past and build something no zombie or person can tear down” the spokesman for his miniscule allegiance remarks, failing to come up with anything more to barter with. Curling her lip, Darla glances off to the side with a squint before shaking her head, displeased with the proposal. “I find it disappointing for someone who carries himself like an intellectual to present his case with such oversight” the woman proclaims, making it clear to those on the other side of the fortification that her mind has been left unconvinced. “You imply that a bad harvest and starvation is a situation uniquely possible for us as if it weren’t just as likely that you’d be the ones to come up dry in Calgary come summertime” Darla proceeds, shaking her head with a shrug, “besides, you’ve got no more security out there than we have here. Couple that with the fact that such a massive convoy could never make it in a reasonable enough time to not be met with hardship and your offer just comes off like a complete joke.” Looking toward the ground, Lou’s face takes on a sorrowful dissatisfaction that’s retained throughout the silence that succeeds his proposition’s declination. “Since it seems like you only came here with that crappy offer, I’d suggest you and your friends go out and scavenge up whatever you can before-” Darla carries on, waving off the survivors to do her bidding before being cut off, her response shot down by the man who cares not to hear it any longer. “I didn’t come here to make you that offer because I thought it was a good one” Lou remarks, his added emphasis prompting the woman across the obstruction from him to roll her eyes and react exhaustedly at his continuation. Still looking at the sand-covered pavement, the handicapped spokesman pulls in a heavy breath before lifting his rebar staff off the ground, letting its weight settle in his hand as an intense anger within him converts itself into an uncomfortable serenity. “I came here with that offer ‘cause it’s the only one that you’re going to get” Lou clarifies, puckering his lips as he loses himself deep in thought, the refusal he was met with reminding him of the stakes that are up for grabs. Specifically centring his mind upon Ally, a profoundly wicked and vile train of thought surrounds him, eating his better judgement alive and instead, directing his end of the interaction down a much darker and rather inhumane path. “If you think poorly of the choice I’ve given you, so be it. It’s your call, but you’re going to want to accept it. You’re going to want to pack up everything you can carry and join us because it’s far better than the alternative” Lou continues, raising his voice only to the point where he knows every set of ears within his near distance can overhear. Letting his breathing steady, the well-journeyed traveller embraces a heinous mindset that he hasn’t experienced since before he’d lost an arm. Returning to the fixation that had embattled him before he’d even left the state of California, the stalwart reaches a headspace so brutal that, the last time it had been visited, a school had been forced to burn amidst an inferno that ended the lives of two people and rendered him a cripple. “Ma’am, you’re either going to come with us to Calgary... or I’m going to slaughter you” Lou proclaims, looking the woman in the eyes as his face takes on an unwavering maliciousness that surprises even the survivors on his side of the altercation. Keeping his voice at the same pitch, the staff-wielding slayer steps back toward the subject of his aggressions with his rebar weapon in tow, slowly placing one foot in front of the other as he speaks. “I’ll lure every last zombie in this entire place directly to you. Then, I’ll syphon every last drop of gas out of every single car you have and use it all to light every acre of your sorry-ass beachfront property on fire” Lou asserts, dismissing the lone attempt that Marta makes at calling out his name as his advancement persists. “Then I’ll strip every last one of your men of their guns and brutalise them until there’s nothing left” Lou continues, again refusing to give into the sound of his name being uttered from the lips of his protege. “And I’ll make sure to keep you alive until the very end so you can see the result of the choice you made. So help me god, I’ll show you such unimaginable evil that you will beg me to kill you just to make it stop” the man furthers, growing more aggressive with each syllable uttered. “LOU!” Marta barks for a third time, unable to break through to the man whilst equally incapable of doing anything, her responsibility still set on holding her hostage at bay. “And when I kill you, it will not be quick. I will wait days just to prove to you that you made the wrong choice. For every second you keep breathing, I’ll make you admit just that same thing out loud for my own damn pleasure” Lou draws nearer, spit flying from his lip as he breaks out into a yell. “Allow me to make myself clear right this instant. None of that will be necessary, and it damn sure won’t be out of mercy...” Lou howls, disregarding Marta’s fourth attempt at talking him down from the enraged ledge that he tempts the fate of gravity with by declaring his intentions beyond any doubt, “...I will butcher you and all of your loved ones like cattle because I FUCKING CHOOSE TO!” No longer sharing any further space than the chain link gate that divides them from each other, Lou and Darla’s faces exist within as few inches as the obstruction will allow them to. Though she’d now made a fifth attempt at calling out her mentor’s name, Marta’s efforts to quell the handicapped traveller’s anger find themselves successful by default, her irate friend’s transgressions having been fully expelled. Refusing to back down, Lou’s mean mug holds firm upon Darla for the near-minute that follows his declaration, only pulling away when the man himself retreats for the six souls occupying the space behind him. With a bitter look of disgust at the disrespect and foul behaviour she is responded to with, the community’s leader grimaces at the man whose demeanour she’s taken aback by, forcing her to look away as her own frustration takes charge of her internal thought. Not fearing those he leaves behind, Lou turns his back fully toward the compound he’s issued his warning to, returning to a set of angry faces knelt along the ground and a trio of awe-stricken visages that wield the weapons keeping them there. “Screw the deal, you can have your people back” Darla calls out, prompting the man across the lot from her to stop in his tracks. With a curious glint in his eye, Lou’s face fails to wear the conviction that would otherwise be sported upon earning his way, gauging the situation as accurately as his peers do, believing something about the comment to be amiss. “You give us back the three men you have on the ground right there and we’ll give you back your friends... all ten of them” Darla proclaims, drawing surprised and bewildered stares from her own men at the offer. Noticing the out of place look in Lou’s face, the three free members of his the community’s adversaries begin to mimic the puzzlement of their spokesman. Pressing his eyelids closely together, Jules’ sights wander past the lone wanderer whilst Terry’s head turns slightly toward his left side. With a slight part in her lips, Marta finds the off kilter posture in the woman who speaks as not befitting for a proposition as clear cut as it’s made out to appear. “We haven’t killed any of you, however. From what I can see, it doesn’t seem like you’ll be bringing Percy back alive and well...” Darla carries on, the set up for what she suggests immediately bringing a smile upon Lou’s face that doesn’t appear present in any of his friends. “...For that reason, somebody needs to be punished for that.” “What kind of punishment are we talking about? You gonna lock one of us away like you’re probably doing with our friends?” Jules challenges, watching the community’s spokeswoman shake her head almost immediately. Not offering a word to accompany her refusing gesture, Darla watches as Lou’s head lowers toward the ground, his rebar-carrying hand placing itself upon his hip as her lips part to speak. “Execution” the heavy-set commander answers, raising looks of concern out of three of the four survivors, the last of whom continues to wear the smile that accompanies the turn of his head back in the direction he’d just departed from. “One of you has to die for your crimes...” Darla declares, doubling down on her proclamation as her eyes lock with Lou, his humoured grin carrying itself in the woman’s direction as the community leader’s finger points in his direction. “...and it has to be you, Lou” Darla concludes, immediately sparking a verbal uproar over the three survivors that remain in support of their friend, refusing the woman any chance at assuming they’d capitulate to her demand. “I will make it quick and painless, but it must happen if you want to be reunited with your friends” the woman shouts, disavowing the outrage that’s thrown in her direction by the young members of the rival faction. Not uttering even one word, Lou simply returns his amused visage to the woman who calls for his death, unphased by the proposition she’s given them. “I will give you twenty four hours to make your decision... But no more than that!” Darla concludes, stepping away from the gate that her enemies of war stand on the opposite side of, climbing into the van that had brought her to the scene as it prepares to depart, “either Lou here will die, or all of your friends will!” Given no other option but to remain in their places, the four foes to the community that had remained quiet through the outbreak until now keep their presence felt against the heads of their prisoners. Shaking his head as he watches the commander ride off into the larger, quartered-off neighbourhood from afar, Lou stares into the night without giving consideration to the issue, his mind already having been made on how to respond long before this evening became marked as meant to be his last. == RISE and REVOLT == Enduring Northern Canada’s bitter evenings and uncomfortable afternoons for days at a time, the passenger-filled Wrangler and Silverado follow the tracks through the snow-covered mountains, keeping to the path laid out for them through the unforgiving wasteland of a deep-winter hellscape. Through sleepless nights and tiresome journeys, the survivors scrape by with as much energy as they can muster, barely making it to one pit stop and roadside fueling station after another.
Mostly spent in silence, the various attempts at breathing life into the dejected group do little to move those within either car, whose drivers work off of an hour or two of sleep each night in the name of moving forward. For other reasons, those tasked with simply enduring the long wait toward their eventual destination mostly remain awake as well, watching as strips of forest, seemingly no different from other swaths of woodland, pass by their windows. After four days of the same, treacherous march, a light appears in the form of a town almost no bigger than a small village, which to the occupants of each vehicle, might as well shine like the lights of New York City. “I see an Esso...” Sonya murmurs aloud, watching as the variety of trees that had surrounded the majority of their journey appear to pull away, making room for an expanse of life that, whilst it doesn’t appear to be present, is represented in the remnant construction left behind. “What does that mean?” Josie immediately wonders aloud, wearing defined bags beneath her eyes as they keep toward the snow-covered track, her face moving toward her passenger. “An Esso! I see an Esso!” Sonya proclaims with joy, sparking a newfound leash on life upon her sister and the man her head rests against, both Terry and the woman behind the steering wheel finding difficulty in understanding the motivation behind the seismic event-like eagerness. “Use the fuckin’ English language, Sonya! What the fuck does an ‘Esso’ mean!?” Josie questions aloud, having fully been snapped out of her half-focus, half-inquisition by the reach that the passenger takes toward the wheel. *honk honk* “Dude, what are you doing!?” Josie shouts, swatting her passenger’s enthusiastic hands away from the horn that now catches the attention of the truck they follow. “An Esso is a gas station!” Sebastian raises his voice to reply calmly, feeling the car shift with the excited bounce of the younger Golden sibling’s chair, “the fact that there’s one here means this is probably more than one of those pitstops we’ve been finding over the last few days.” Collectively pulling off of the tracks and rolling to a stop at the gas station’s fueling centre, the pair of vehicles close in on their next genuine stopping point, embracing the gentle snowfall that begins raining over the low-populated town. “I have never been more excited to see a gas station in my entire fucking life!” Sonya proclaims, the first to disembark from a vehicle, carrying her makeshift weapon as she journeys around the hood of the car, closing in on a corpse that rounds a corner. “Sit your ass down, prick!” she orders, burying the nails of her pieced-together weapon into the frosty, rotten face of the corpse she bludgeons, smack-talking the dead before spitting on its lifeless body. “Someone’s been cooped up in that Wrangler for way too long” Jules jokes, climbing down from the Silverado as he wipes at his eyes, his expression wrought with the exhaustion you’d expect from a man who’d spent nearly sixty-six hours of the last seventy-two traversing the Canadian wilderness. “You’re goddamn right, I was! Now, I’m free and I’m full of energy!” Sonya excitedly chirps, running across the fueling station as the other tired members of the group watch on. “I’m pretty sure she swiped one of my caffeine pills” Josie amusedly quips, hearing Courtney’s younger sibling grunt as she again whacks upon a roaming straggler, too tired to let out a noteworthy laugh, but presenting a breathy chuckle as best as she can. “You’re goddamn right, I did!” Sonya proclaims, speaking freeing and allowing her voice to travel for as far as the expanse of land will take it, “now where the fuck are we!?” As if she were a kitten in a room full of elderly cats just wanting to settle down and take a nap, the younger sibling watches her younger sister shake her head with a smile, walking past the energetic survivor with a humoured look on her face and approaching the service station. Shattering the window with her sleeve-covered arm, Courtney steps into the small mart and gives a half-hearted check at the empty interior, highly doubting that someone’s final moments before death could’ve been spent surrounded by bottles of oil and wiper fluid. “Alright, from the looks of it, we are in...” the older sister proclaims, unravelling a paper map before looking toward any print that appears to be scrawled upon more boldly than the others. “Huh... Ain’t that ironic?” the woman finally mutters aloud after a pause, drawing an immediate concern out of a man near the back of the reunited group. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Please tell me we haven’t just driven in a circle!” Terry asks with horror, watching the squint and refusing shake of Courtney’s head quell his concerns at once. “We’ve been driving for days. No, you moron, we didn’t drive in a circle!” the woman chirps, turning the map’s face toward the folks she’d travelled alongside, “we’re in Golden. I said it’s ironic ‘cause it’s my last name.” Walking up to her sister, Sonya sets her sights upon the directory’s layout whilst the American side’s leader questions aloud. “Alright, how far away from Calgary is that?” Terry inquires, watching the younger sibling’s eyes somehow widen even further than they already had been. “We’re still in B.C!?” Dropping his head, Lou presses his lips together whilst Adrian looks toward the heavens, letting out a sigh as he leans against the Silverado’s exterior. His own patience having been tested, Darnell drops to a knee on the ground and presses the side of his hand against his face. Visibly bemused, Christina looks toward the ground and shakes her head before walking off, refusing to set her eyes upon Ally, who sits on the seat she’d occupied in the truck, one foot pressing atop the side bar whilst the other dangles freely. Clearly dissatisfied, Sebastian’s face fails to fall like many of the others, a bob of his head from one side to the other making it clear that he feels as though worse fortunes could have befallen them. “Fuck, man. How big is your stupid, fucking country, bro!?” Jules asks aloud, souring his face as he rolls his eyes, slapping the air as he spins around dejectedly. “Clearly big enough for us not to be in Calgary yet” Sebastian responds, drawing a chuckle out of his girlfriend from afar, only for his mind to keep toward the reassurance he’d cleared the air to offer, “but this isn’t a bad thing. We’ve got a marker on how far we’ve got left to go, we can fuel up, and we get some sleep.” “I’d like to stay here for a week. Maybe a month if possible” Sonya chirps, pointing the tip of her spear toward the Wrangler she’d just climbed out of less than five minutes ago, “for the love of god, I just don’t want to step into that deathtrap for as long as I can.” “Then let’s start taking care of whatever corpses are walking around out here and find a place to lie low for a bit” Jenn responds, stepping between a downtrodden Lou and his bystanding protege to retrieve her baseball bat from the flatbed. “Why would we need to lie low?” Elsie queries, following the woman whilst shaking her tomahawk as if it were a maraca. “Because little miss happy hands over there decided to blare the Jeep’s horn for the world to hear” Jenn rebuttals, gesturing her bat toward Sonya, who takes ownership over the sarcastic pseudonym by moving her hands and feet in a playful dance. “Fair enough” Courtney responds, pointing toward the sky with a finger that she swirls in a circle, “let’s see if the tankers under these machines have run dry yet and find a nice little residency to chill out in.” Earning a few rolled eyes via the proclamation, the grounded paramotorist retreats for the arm that her boyfriend extends, wrapping it around her as the crew begrudgingly return to their vehicles, knowing the second journey to be a much shorter, more temporary one. Separated into two halves by the river that runs directly through it, the small town of Golden remains connected by only a pair of bridges, one being of the rail variety from a track the survivors hadn’t taken. Both being blocked off by a group of vehicles somehow stacked atop each other, only the asphalt-paved river crossing sports a passage from one half of the town and into the other. Triggered by the sound of the distant blaring, a group of vehicles drive through the fence that had been erected between a pair of arranged cars, its door being pulled open by forces who call the quiet district home so those behind the wheel of their own rides can venture into the quartered off portion. = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = “Are we looking for anything in particular here?” Sebastian inquires, looking through the windows of the Wrangler that remain intact, watching as one small, residential house after another passes them by without seemingly being stopped at. “A house big enough for all fourteen of us would be nice” Josie replies, keeping her eye out just as the Canadian group’s leader does, holding back her doubts that such a finding will be uncovered, “at least, that’s what I think they’re looking for.” “That’s alright, we can just-” Sonya replies, leaning toward the driver’s seat before being quickly shoved back by the driver. “Keep your hands off the horn, jumpy” Josie demands, earning a pair of rolled eyes from the lady in the passenger seat as she keeps her foot lightly pressed upon the gas pedal. After a few further minutes, the Silverado ahead draws to a stop along the side street of a home with just a bush in the yard and a minivan parked in the snow-covered gravel driveway. Departing their vehicles, the survivors reunite once again whilst Terry and Jules approach the front door, hopping over the wooden gate that separates the front yard from the parking lot. “Home sweet home, I guess?” Courtney queries, looking at the modest residential plot through squinted eyes, not taking it for even as much as her claim would suggest. “It’s gonna be fine for a day or two. We’ll catch up on whatever rest we can, grab whatever loot we need to stack up on, and get back on the road” Sebastian replies, a conclusion that he and the American side’s leader had already agreed upon. “How much further do you think it’ll be before we get to Calgary?” Adrian wonders aloud, purposefully keeping his eyes on the fellow Canadians that his journey is shared with. “It’s taken us four days to cross through the mountains. We still haven’t gotten to Banff yet” Courtney answers, leaning against the Wrangler’s door as she stares into the cloudy, yet bright sky. “At the rate we’re going, I’d say we still have another week to go” Sebastian concludes, immediately finding the spirits of Sonya to lower, her sigh accompanying the bow of her head as she leans against the Jeep’s hood. “I didn’t just hear what I think I heard, right?” Ally queries, walking in the opposite direction of her now ex-boyfriend as he ventures alongside Marta, politely stepping through the home’s gate instead of hopping above it. “Yeah, we’ve got a week or some to go” Sebastian doubles down, watching as the remnants from the Silverado draw closer, allowing the four that had departed in favour of checking out the home to do so without interruption. | “Anybody home?” Terry calls out, walking alongside his fellow, two-limbed former student as they enter a corridor lined with different rooms, most of whom remain free to enter with open doors. “It’s a good sign that it doesn’t smell like death, huh?” Jules wonders aloud, armed with a knife he’d snatched from the kitchen whilst his friend wields the weapon their former classmate had owned. “I’ll take a clean-smelling home over one filled with bodies any day of the week, brother” Terry reassures, taking aim with the barrel of his weapon as he turns the corner toward a bedroom, its interior fitted with bunk beds and painted a light shade of blue. “I know we should’ve been doing this the whole time, but keep your eye out for guns” Jules states, offering a reminder that brings a nod over his partner, “they may be Canadian, but there has to be a few pistols around every now and then.” Having stayed back and waited for their friends to scope out what’s left of the home, Lou and Marta look around the living room and adjacent kitchen without expecting to find much. Decorated modestly and not seeming to offer much in the way of personability, the building appears lined with some undisturbed furniture and modern decor, wooden coffee and end tables accompanying a cedarwood countertop atop the halfway between the two rooms. “There’s only one floor, right?” Jules calls out, awaiting an answer from his friends at the end of the corridor as he steps out from the bathroom. “Uh... I don’t see any way into a basement or an attic from here, so we should-” Lou begins to reply, approaching the pair from the communal area before the sound of a sudden whirr beyond their building interrupts him. Though the disturbance is unusual, no sudden onslaught of noise rings out from afar enough to bring about any sudden cause for action, the sound of car doors opening and slamming shut being the only thing that appears unusual. “What the hell are they doing out there?” Terry asks curiously, assuming the noises to have been brought about by their peers, their individual re-entry and re-exits from the Wrangler and the Sivlerado being what he pins the blame on. “I have no idea” Lou mutters back, standing in place just like his protege does, staring in the direction of the living room without making the first move. Drawn by his curiosity, Jules squeezes through the man and woman that cut him off from the parlour and walks up to the windows, staring through the semi-transparent blinds that hang between himself and the glass dividers. Unable to make out what’s being said, the approaching survivor’s ears make out the sounds of audible remarks, ones that are too dull to be made out coherently, but carry themselves to the tune of anger. Following Jules’ lead, Lou walks in the man’s shadow as the area in which his peers reside draws into view, the picture of what unfolds just beyond the home’s front gate becoming clear to them before it does for Marta and Terry just a metre and a half behind them. “Who the fuck are they!?” Jules exclaims, watching a convoy of men and women armed with rifles surround the group that occupies the side yard. “Marta, they’re coming into the house! Look o-!” Adrian attempts to howl, kept from screaming any further warning as he’s struck in the back of the head with the rear end of a hunting rifle, his attempt at providing those within the residence a head’s up thwarted by the unnamed survivor who assaults him. Forcing the lingering survivors that had stayed near the well-travelled vehicles into a set of vans, the assailants who’d taken advantage of the unified group’s lowered guard send a fleet of men hurrying toward the home’s entrance. Specifically watching as Ally’s throat is taken into the possession of a man’s hand and forced to surrender into the getaway vehicle, Lou’s every instinct bypasses the stinging pain in his neck as he races into action, cutting off the locals that draw nearer. “Ally!” the silver slayer barks, dashing through the front door before cracking one of the pursuers over the head with his rebar staff and throwing his boot into the man that had travelled behind him. “Duck, Lou!” Terry proclaims, having followed his friend into the embrace of combat before raising Halston’s gun, opening fire on those that had snatched their group and killing the two men his one-armed ally had yet to reach. “Ally!” Lou exclaims, lunging up from the ground he’d dropped toward upon Terry’s vehemence, and chasing after the van whose doors close upon his continued run. Having dragged every member of the visiting group into their vehicles, the locals scurry away from the survivors they’d been unable to surround as easily. “Jesus Christ! Drive! Drive! Drive!” an older woman exclaims, looking on in horror as the one-armed wanderer sprints, horrified by the ease in which her people had been disposed of. Giving his best effort, Lou’s run finds itself incapable of matching the horsepower of the local fleet, Terry leading both Jules and Marta into the street that now clouds with snow at the surprise attack. Refusing to give up his chase, the silver slayer dashes through the wintery slush kicked up by the vans until the moment it rounds the corner, taking with it Ally’s face, which had pressed against the rear window in defiance of her captors. “Ally!” Lou continues to scream, firing his boots into the accumulation of snow that has hidden the road beneath it until he no longer can, his body throwing himself forward as he loses his balance, refusing to surrender until the moment he dives into the winter mix. Struggling to catch up with the man whose run had been fueled purely by adrenaline, the three survivors that had evaded capture leap through the mountain of snow between themselves and their laid-out friend. “Follow them! We’ve got to follow them!” Jules exclaims, watching Terry stop at Lou’s side before attempting to hurry past, the outstretched hand of the group’s American leader preventing him from doing so. “They’ve got our people and they’ve got guns! We can’t go getting ourselves killed!” the shot-caller from the continental forty-eight proclaims, watching as his friend’s eyes widen furiously. “They’ve got our fucking friends! We have to go after them!” Jules barks back, violently shoving back the hand of the man who’d held him off from continuing to run. “Alright, nigga! What the fuck do you think we’re gonna do!?” Terry shouts back, shoving his fellow survivor backward before watching Lou attempt to stand, only for the stinging sensation in his neck to prevent him from getting off both knees, “you think we’re gonna just drive after them and slap box to the death, huh!?” “I’m not gonna just stand back and watch them drive off with our people, T!” Jules screams, throwing his entire weight behind a shove that drops the American side of the group’s leader into the same ground that their one-armed friend had collapsed into. “You dumb motherf-!” Terry proclaims, itching for a fight that Marta refuses to let him have, her hand thrusting against the side of his face before she turns around and pushes the other man backward. “Will you quit being alphamales for one goddamn second and chill the fuck out!?” the lone wanderer’s protege howls, splitting her attention between the men that surrender themselves to the fact that they can’t settle their issues with the woman standing between them. “We’re not gonna settle this by fighting each other, you stupid bastards!” Marta barks, watching as Lou retrieves his bo staff from the ground and attempts to step forward. “Sit the fuck down, asshole!” Marta exclaims, refusing to hold back in efforts she deems necessary as she kicks her mentor’s leg out from beneath him. His silent attempt at continuing to pursue their group’s snatchers thwarted before it can even get underway, Lou’s face collides with the cold, mushy puddles the van had left in its wake, bested by his protege in a moment where it’s arguably most necessary. “We can’t let them get away, Marta!” Jules exclaims, watching as the woman marches out ahead of Lou and continues to shove him into the ground, refusing him the continued attempt at marching after those they’d never catch up to. “There’s no other town remotely close to here, Jules! They couldn’t have gone far!” the woman barks back, struggling to refuse her pain-ridden mentor an attempt at getting back to his feet. “That’s exactly why we have to go after-! AHH!... That’s exactly why we have to go after them!” Lou declares, forced to fall to his knees once more through the agonising pain, which is strong enough to drive him back to the ground, but not from finishing his proclamation. “No, Lou! We’ll wait until sundown for them to start a fire or turn on some lights or something!” Marta declares, finally uttering comments that convince her mentor to begrudgingly settle down from his adrenaline spike. “Until then, we stay together and try to figure out how the fuck we get our family back!” the woman concludes, turning her eyes away from the distraught face of her mentor and toward the only two survivors that accompany them. As displeased as each other, Terry and Jules wear their sombre and bitter expressions as they walk in opposite directions of the other, using their stroll as a way to get rid of the frustration that fires through every inch of their bodies. | “What do you mean you brought back people, Darla!? Like actual people!?” a man questions aloud, following the middle-aged woman whilst wearing a white cardigan and a pair of rectangular glasses. “Yes! Of course I mean actual people, Don!” the woman shouts back, her light red locks tied into a bun that sits at the back of her head, stepping out of the car port that the pair of vans park within and walking past a group of men with rifles who lead their victims into the adjacent home. “How can that even be possible!? We haven’t seen new people since the town shut down!” Don proclaims, following after his jean jacket-wearing wife as they walk around their home, attempting to approach from the front. “They drove in!” Darla rejoinders, wiping off the railing at either side of their front steps now that the snow has stopped for the time being, “we found them parked outside of a home with a truck and what I’m pretty sure was a Jeep.” “Darla, honey, that can’t be possible!” Don counters, entering their home with the most awe-struck face worn, “we finished blocking off both ends of Highway 1 three months ago!” Agitated, the woman sheds her jacket and throws it upon a couch in the living room, their stroll brings them to a stop in, turning back to face the man who calls her claims into question. “I don’t know what to tell you, Don. You heard their horns! If you’re so eager to find out how they got in, go down and ask them yourself!” Darla proclaims, throwing her hand in the direction of the entrance to their basement, finding little other course of action to be preferable in her husband’s eyes. “Okay, we’ll just drop it then! Forget about how they got in here, just tell me what you know about them!” Don exclaims, waving his hands toward the woman’s face so as to suggest they move past the irritating discourse. “Other than the fact that there were two or more people with them that we couldn’t grab, I don’t know anything about them” Darla answers, distressed over the situation as a whole, “one of the guys called out for a girl named ‘Marta’, but that’s all I know.” “What happened with them? How did you not get them too?” Don questions, hurriedly moving on from one question to the next, trying to obtain whatever information can be divulged. “Because they killed the people we sent after them” Darla finally replies with something other than a tone of vocal outrage, setting a new course for the discussion that her husband follows suit with. “What?” the man queries, watching as his wife frees her chin-length hair from the tight ponytail it had been fitted into. “Randy from across the street, Jimmy from the diner, and Lucas and Perry Mayhew” Darla names, pressing her palms against her hips and pushing down upon the love handles that spill out from the one-size too-small jeans that do little justice to her thighs, “there were people inside the house, so we sent them in. They killed them all just like that.” “Oh my god. How- why would-?” Don inquires, finding himself troubled to come up with a reply fitting for the tragedy that he’s become privy to, only for his wife’s vehement shake of the head to be paid back. “I don’t know, Don. I’m waiting for the guys to offload them into the basement so I can figure out what’s going on myself” Darla answers, walking past the man and reaching for the cellar entrance’s door knob, “maybe we’ll be able to get a clue about where the hell they’re coming from.” Granting herself entry into a narrow staircase, the woman in her early-to-mid fifties begins descending the carpeted steps one after another to the sound of aggravated groans and reluctance. “Is everyone off the truck?” Darla questions aloud, ducking beneath the level in which the main floor turns into the cellar’s ceiling to find ten survivors seated along a wall with their hands bound behind their backs. “Everyone is accounted for, but none of them are willing to talk” an average-sized black man responds, pointing the barrel of his hunting rifle at the concrete ground, receiving a satisfied nod of approval from one half of the home’s primary tenant, who grabs a folding chair from the side of the room. “Thank you, Pete” Darla responds, dragging the legs of the seat along the ground before opening it, seating herself against the back of the throne that she rests her folded arms atop. “We don’t usually get visitors coming through these parts of town. At least, we haven’t since everyone lost their minds” the woman explains, surveying the crowd of detainees lined up for her eyes to fall upon, their various looks of dissatisfaction or outright rage made potently clear. “We’ve blocked off both ends of the highway, so none of us are really sure how you even managed to get in here. It shouldn’t be possible, and that’s the case for a reason” Darla concludes. As the only person refusing to show either a look of inherent anger or complete disgruntlement, Sebastian’s face soon takes the centre of their captor’s attention, her eyes locking upon his own. “We only have what we managed to save when looters started running amuck. We don’t take kindly to them coming back around again. We also don’t take kindly to them killing us” Darla explains, putting on a smile as fake as her attempt at hospitality. “Then again, the people who killed us are not you. They’re likely your friends, but they’re not you specifically. That’s the only reason we didn’t shoot you all dead along the ride” the woman continues, shaking her head as she again investigates the group as a whole. “For that reason alone, I’m willing to hear you all out. I want to know who you are, why you’re here, where you come from, and most importantly...” Darla speaks, coming closer to her point, “...who did we leave back at that house?” With various faces looking toward each other, the kidnapped group of hostages stare amongst each other whilst only one refuses to avert his eyes. “Now that I’ve made my desires clear, I believe it’s time to begin...” Darla ends, locking eyes with a straight-faced Sebastian, whose unwavering glare holds firmly upon her with no sign of relent, intriguing the woman enough to provoke a wide grin out of her, “...and I think I’d like to start with you” she utters, pointing out the Canadian leader. == RISE and REVOLT == Cautiously leading the charge over the pile of snow that coats the ground beneath a thin layer of ice from the rain that had fallen hours earlier in the day, the Silverado draws nearer to its destination. Both Terry and Darnell having pinned a tarp against the shattered windows on the driver’s side of the Wrangler, it too slowly crunches the wintery mix beneath its all terrain tires, the woman in control of its wheel remaining persistent in fighting to keep it on course.
Wrapped in a pair of blankets- one having belonged to the mentor who’d willingly surrendered it to her- Marta defies the rocky terrain and rests her head against a suitcase, her closed eyes affording her the luxury of sleeping through the challenging journey. Remaining wide awake and shielded from the winter by only a sweater he’d pulled from a bag in one of the crates across the flatbed from him, Lou watches as the snow-covered mountains pass him by, the day beginning to fall into night. With the fortune of being protected from the harsh elements by the windows of the truck’s cabin, Jenn stares through the window of her passenger’s side as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Lowering from its undisturbed and content visage, the woman’s eyes catch a glimpse of the green street sign that her ride drives beyond, quietly reading the name “Halston Avenue” inside of her head before letting her sights fall disappointedly. Pulling off of the main road, the collection of vehicles descend upon streets no longer covered by asphalt, their dirt surfaces covered by the same snow that the British Columbia streets hide beneath. “I can take over whenever you need” Sonya remarks, watching as the Wrangler’s navigator lets out a prolonged yawn, shaking her head before her lips can return to the warmth of each other. “I’ll be good” Josie rebuttals, reaching into the centre console to retrieve a transparent, orange bottle that she proceeds to rattle, “I snatched some caffeine pills from whoever owned the condo we stayed in.” With a smirk, Sonya shakes her head in dismissal before returning her stare toward the open road ahead, impressed with the ease her fellow survivor had managed to lift the medications through. “Alright, we’re closing in on the tracks!” Jules remarks, looking toward Ally through the rear-view mirror whilst taking notice of the Wrangler’s headlights a few metres behind. Aware of what the warning entails, the rifle-wielding brunette looks over her shoulder and gently taps the back window with her knuckles, gaining her boyfriend’s attention. Quietly thrusting her open palm forward, the woman gestures toward the man in the flatbed before silently setting her eyes back upon the path ahead. Holding onto the shake of the vehicle as it climbs over the abandoned metal tracks, Lou replicates the same gesture his girlfriend had directed him a few times over. Only ceasing his efforts once Josie flashes the headlights a handful of times, the man sinks back into his place along the vehicle’s back. Having spent nearly the last hour zoning out to bypass the chill, the stalwart is watched by Adrian as he settles back in for the what’s left of the ride, both men nodding to each other. As the hours pass, the slow crawl that both vehicles make through the Canadian wilderness leads them to a bridge that crosses the Columbia River just as Christmas day comes to a close. Putting their faith in the elevated passageway’s structural integrity, the survivors hold onto whatever aspects of their vehicle are enforced enough to withstand their grip, the arduous march finding them safely led across just as the clock rolls past midnight. Having stopped for a brief moment to syphon whatever abandoned vehicles line the roads of a town called Revelstoke, the survivors wander through the area with their guard raised, eyes kept out for both the undead and any survivors that may linger. “Let’s give ourselves about an hour to get what we need. We’ll travel in groups of four or five. One will syphon, the others keep a lookout” Sebastian proclaims, looking throughout the collected group and awaiting their breakaway unions. “Alright, fine. I’ll go first” Terry remarks, having watched on as the various survivors look toward each other without wishing to be the first to speak, “I’ll run with Jules, Josie, and Elsie.” Finding no argument from anyone, the man takes it upon himself to divide what remains into their own pairs, wanting to not waste more time than they have. “Lou can go with Ally, Marta, Adrian, and Jenn” he continues, pointing out each, “Sebastian, the Goldens, and Ally’s friends will stay together.” “That works for me” Sebastian replies, retaining possession of one jerrycan before handing off another to Terry. “No, no, no. You’ve only got one hand and you’re one of our best fighters” Terry interrupts, extending his hand toward Lou, who’d approached the pair of leaders to take ownership over the third canister, “Adrian, you’ll take the last can.” Seeing no issue in the matter, Marta’s father steps forward as Lou passes him by, their shoulders briefly colliding as they cross paths. “Ah, shit!” the well-travelled wanderer grimaces, dropping to his knee as he immediately reaches for his neck, the sudden shift sending a sharp pain travelling down his back. “Woah, woah! Are you alright!?” Marta hurriedly questions, immediately hurrying away from Jenn’s side to attend toward her mentor, accidentally stepping ahead of Ally, who’d initially set out to set her issues with the man aside and come to his aid. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m good” Lou reassures, the remark being one that immediately fails to convince Terry, who walks up to the survivor’s side and gently takes him by the arm. “Are you sure you’re alright, Lou? I don’t want you going out there and running into trouble you can’t handle” the American side’s leader comments, only to be politely brushed off by the man. “I’ll be fine. I’ve made it this far without two hands, a little stinger isn’t gonna do anything losing an arm hasn’t” Lou defiantly proclaims, punching the snow that his pointed staff had fallen into as he retrieves the weapon, carrying himself back the way he came. “Alright then” Terry begrudgingly retorts, hesitant to believe the man that’s followed after by Marta whilst Ally quietly surveys the pair from afar, left with little choice but to accept the slayer’s answer. “I don’t know what fucking time it is, so we’ll all meet back here at sunrise” the American shot-caller proclaims, waving off the split crowd of survivors and sending them off in different directions, looking to salvage what they can from the quiet town that no longer utters a word. = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = Dropping like a sack of potatoes as the sharpened end of a rebar staff rips through the eye socket it had entered through, an ice-covered and surprisingly-fresh zombie’s corpse plummets into the snow just beyond a coffee chain store. “We’re all clear. Check the doors!” Lou proclaims, walking away from the chain restaurant that both Ally and Marta approach calmly, returning to the parking lot that the remaining members remain in. Slamming their closed fists against the front doors before pulling at the handle that refuses to budge, the women await whatever response inside they are unsure of whether or not they’ll receive. Spitting fuel into the snow that’s risen to halfway up the tires of a mid-nineties era Subaru, Adrian waits for the trickling of gasoline to fall from the tube he’s buried deep within the vehicle’s tank, hoping as the others do for as quick of a fill as they can manage. “We’ve got zombies!” Ally calls out, prompting both Jenn and Lou to centre their attention upon the coffee shop’s entrance, their readied stances facing the dead that press against the door. Joining the brunette in retreating from the building’s entrance, Marta steps away as the fight-ready survivors square up. Hurling a stone through the windows of the building’s front, Jenn frees the corpses a way to spill into the parking lot, a pair of black railings stretching down a ramp that lead to the pair. Much fresher than most stragglers are around this time of the year, the trio of wandering biters speed walk down the concrete slope and hurry for what they approach just as they would with any other meal. Crushing the first corpse over the head with his rebar post, Lou steps aside to allow his fellow survivor a chance at swinging for the fences. “You’re turn, buddy!” Jenn proclaims, having bludgeoned the second traipsing roamer with such force that her baseball bat rings within her palms as if having made contact with a ball outright. Launching himself forward as if throwing a javelin, Lou leaps off the ground for a brief moment as his staff drives through the throat of the final zombie, taking it toward the ground without actually finishing it off. “Make it count, Jenn!” the one-armed man proclaims, holding the corpse steady as the sharpened end of his staff rests in the concrete, the roamer positioned as if it were laying down just an inch off the ground. Shaking the cramp from her hand, Jenn swirls her bat around by her side with confidence as she approaches, throwing herself forward as she swings the weapon at the ground, disfiguring the corpse’s already putrid-looking skull beyond what could be considered human-looking. With ease, Lou rips his staff free before bumping fists with his zombie-slaying friend, their approach carrying them in the direction of the girls who had purposefully taken positions off to the side. “I didn’t get much, but it’s still better than nothing” Adrian remarks, stepping through the coffee shop’s front doors whilst swirling the slight amount of gasoline in the jerry can he soon leaves atop one of the booth’s tables. “We’ll have plenty of time before the sun comes up” Marta responds, walking around the store’s front counter before checking the various cabinets and drawers kept from public view. “So this is what you Canadians lose your mind over, huh?” Jenn queries, spinning her bat in loops as she traipses through the commons area of the shop, looking around the room with an unimpressed visage. “The only reason Tim Horton’s is considered as uniquely-Canadian is because it failed every time it tried to go somewhere else” Adrian retorts, pulling out a chair he soon occupies with his feet atop the accompanying table, “I always preferred the McDonald’s coffee anyway.” Passing the conversation by, Lou follows his protege around the counter before noticing his girlfriend wander off a few paces ahead. “You need any help?” the man inquires, watching Marta look up to him as she kneels upon the floor, digging through whatever cupboards lend themselves to her eyes. “I’m all good, how about you?” she questions back, watching her mentor gently shake his head in refusal before walking by. “No issues here. Let me know if you need anything” he answers, passing a glance toward the baseball bat-swinging woman and the resting, jerry can-carrying man in the dining room before following the trail of his lover. | “No, no! Avoid that one!” Josie proclaims, pointing at the truck parked in front of the motel they travel around as Terry sets his gas canister down beside it. “That can you’ve got is carrying strictly-diesel fuel” the woman explains, watching her friend’s confused expression look toward her at first, “the Silverado consumes a different gas than the Wrangler. The truck you’re at doesn’t take diesel and you don’t want to start mixing the gases.” Lifting his hands in surrender whilst his peers break into yet another private room, Terry reclaims possession of his mostly-empty canister before following after those he travels alongside. Immediately checking the bathrooms and closet for any would-be threats, Elsie and Jules assure the other half of their crew that the coast is clear. “The last room’s all good!” the latter of the two proclaims, retreating for the room’s entrance whilst the blonde beside him sparks a smile. “That’s perfect! Josie and Jules... get some sleep” Elsie proclaims, catching the ears of the figures that approach. “I’m all good. I’ve got-” Josie attempts to rebuttal, only for her explanation to be refused by the woman, who remains adamant in the demand she’d made. “I don’t care what you have or what you need. The two of you are driving, so the two of you will get some rest while you can” the woman, whose hair has been newly re-braided, doubles down. “We’ll be back for you when the sun starts to rise. Until then, settle in and close your eyes for a bit” the blonde woman declares, having spent the last ten minutes trying to convince the pair of drivers to do as instructed. Having finally succeeded, Elsie shuts off the room’s entrance and smiles toward Terry, every other unoccupied flat’s front door having been left open. “I guess it’s time for us to find some fuel, huh?” she quips, jutting her chin toward the direction they had initially entered from, setting the pair’s destination toward the gas station she’d purposefully ensured they would pass in order to settle the others into a brief nap. | Dropping a fifth corpse atop a pile of bodies they’d stacked upon each other on the front yard, Sebastian and Darnell stand upright once more and gather their breaths. “That’s fucking tragic, man” the latter survivor remarks, dropping to a knee whilst the leader of the group’s Canadian half watches on. “At least peace can be made knowing they made the decision themselves” Sebastian responds, looking toward the front of the residential home’s wooden exterior, white paint having purposefully stained its brown finish to warn those travelling beyond it of what lies inside. “FAMILY SUICIDE. 5 DEAD INSIDE. SHOTGUN. HEAD. DON’T ENTER” the scrawling’s read, the list of comments stacking on top of each other, forming five lines that read from top to bottom, each as grim and discomforting as the last. “I hope they did” Darnell rejoinders, pointing toward a pair of faces that appear much younger than the ones piled on top of them, “the only people that’ll ever know for sure are at our feet.” Finding it difficult to argue against the conclusion that the man comes to, Sebastian nods agreeingly before letting out a sigh, his eyes taking in the direction of the home’s carport, finding Christina’s watchful eye holding upon them from the patio just above it. “Hey, Sebastian?” the old community-based survivor wonders aloud, reclaiming the Canadian leader’s attention from the home itself. “I just wanted to apologise for what happened with Dawn” Darnell confesses, holding a disheartened look on his face as the man opposite him looks on, “we didn’t know what she was planning. If we did, we would’ve tried to talk her out of it.” “Woah, man. I don’t blame you” Sebastian quickly counters, shaking his head in the man’s direction as he assures him of such a claim to be the truth. “I know you don’t, but that doesn’t mean that some others do” Darnell responds, an argument that the man he speaks with finds more difficulty debating, “you seem more willing to hear us out, though. I get why the others don’t trust us, and I don’t have a problem with it. I just want to make it clear that we didn’t want that anymore than you guys.” “Darnell, I believe you” Sebastian reassures, watching the man hang his head and nod, relief appearing through the breath that leaves the man’s nose. Turning back toward the home, the Canadian watches as the woman with a much less pleased expression turns back for the home, retreating from the patio with a scowl. | “Knock, knock” Lou murmurs, watching his girlfriend turn back to face him, her attention caught by the man’s voice. “Hi” she answers simply and without enthusiasm, acknowledging her boyfriend’s presence before looking back toward the abundance of things left behind in the office she assumes had belonged to the coffee shop’s manager. Aware of the standing that he resides within at this moment, Lou remains quiet for a moment as he watches his girlfriend sift through the things stationed across the work-covered desk. “I deeply regret what I said to you back at the lodge” the man confesses, looking at the woman’s back as it remains facing him, “you know that, right?” “Not necessarily” Ally answers without much hesitation, picking up a ceramic ‘World’s Best Boss’ mug before tossing it into the corner of the wall-leant workspace, surprised to find it not shatter. “Ally, I was just-” Lou attempts to rebuttal, calmly proceeding to present his point before finding the woman’s interruption preventing him from doing so. “I don’t know the other people” she confesses, turning back to look at her boyfriend with a disheartened look in her eyes. Closing his mouth as the words he’d attempted to offer evade him, Lou watches his girlfriend’s eyes wander toward the corner of the room as she clarifies her statement. “All of them. Darnell, Christina, and Dawn. I’ve had a handful of conversations with them for the last few weeks, but that’s about it” Ally doubles down, looking into the eyes of the man that stands across from her, his curiosity having peaked. “The only reason we’ve been grouping together is because you and your friends are joined at the hip. It’s more of a defence strategy than anything else” she admits, leaning against the workspace she’d inspected for the last minute. “Dawn isn’t my friend anymore than the others are. She didn’t tell us she was running off because none of us really know each other” Ally continues, watching as her boyfriend approaches with a look of loss in his visage. “Why did you tell me that they were your friends the other day?” Lou inquires, finding the woman’s confession to be odd for someone who’d argued otherwise days before. “What did you expect me to do? I just found you all of sudden, out of the blue, and here you are with this new group of people I’d never met before” Ally responds, keeping her voice low enough to prevent the others they’d momentarily left behind from listening in. “I don’t know them. I don’t know how long you’ve known them. I’d never met them in my life” she continues, extending her arm toward the dining room’s direction, “and the second I find you, it’s like you’ve lived an entirely new life.” “I don’t understand. Is.. is it a bad thing that I found new people?” Lou wonders aloud, a puzzled squint carried in his eyes as he struggles to understand the point his girlfriend seemingly attempts to make. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, I’m just saying that it’s a bit jarring” Ally rejoinders, allowed to speak through the silence that her boyfriend purposefully offers. Hanging her head, the woman responsible for ending Dawn’s life just one night prior allows her thoughts to settle, an effort that Lou takes notice of and tries his best to stay quiet through. “I lost a lot of hope that I’d ever see you again after we all made it to Vancouver” Ally concedes, redirecting her line of sight from the ground and toward the face of the man standing in the doorway between herself and the restaurant’s working station. “I couldn’t stop reminding myself of how hard it was to just find a boat. When we got to land, everyone made the call that we were just going to settle in until Jenn and Halston caught up with us” she recalls, tightly wrapping her palm around the desk’s edge as she sits atop it. “I knew there wasn’t any other way off that island. I kept thinking to myself that there was almost no chance they were gonna get as lucky as we did the first time around” Ally explains with a shame-filled smile, shaking her head with disgust in the memory of how strong her doubts had grown, “eventually, I thought about how grim the whole situation was. I at least knew that Jenn and Halston were on the island, and I still figured there was no chance in hell I’d ever see them again.” Shaken and sorrowful in the recollection that’s brought to the forefront of her mind, Ally allows her fingertips to touch the underside of the desk, feeling the cork-like material its underbelly is composed of. “Then I got to thinking about what that meant for you” she moves on, watching Lou’s head fall slowly, disappointed in the trajectory the comments appear to head in, “I didn’t even know if you were still alive. I was just hoping you were out there somewhere, but it...” Again coming short of finishing her thought, Ally feels the salt of tears begin to form in her distressed eyes, the sombre defeat that grips her the way she grasps the desk becoming impossible to avoid. “I figured there was nowhere else you could’ve washed up if you’d made it off the Euronam. And if I had figured it was nearly impossible for Jenn and Halston to ever make it to us...” she draws further, locking eyes with Lou as he looks up toward her, “...I figured I’d never see you again.” “But you did” Lou quickly reassures, watching as the tears begin falling down his girlfriend’s face, her laughter and smile replying to him despite its influence not being of the pleasant variety. “Yeah, I did. I figured if Jenn and Halston ever made it back, and if they’d ever found you and brought you along with them, you’d go back to the hotel the others made the call to wait for them in” Ally chuckles, wiping the tears that stream down her face, “maybe you’d find the note I left.” “And I did!” Lou replies, leaning his staff against the wall before resting his arm upon his girlfriend’s side, his reassurance again bringing a joyous-appearing visage over the woman. “You did! You did, and you came east, and you found me!” Ally explains, nodding along with the man, his bobbing head motivated by the odds-defying lengths they’d successfully navigated whilst hers is driven by a depressing recognition, “...and so did your new friends.” “Why does that matter!?” Lou whispers in a hiss-like pitch, shaking his head at a loss for why any of what his girlfriend says would be considered a bad thing. “Because they’re a part of someone that, until a few days ago, I have never met!” Ally responds with a smile, her teary eyes only growing more watery the longer she speaks, trying her best to present a chipper and positive visage despite being stricken with a self-torment that she just can’t manage to shake. “Don’t get me wrong, they seem like great people! I’m happy that you found a group that you can love like family! A group that you can love like us!” Ally doubles down, assuring the man of the pleasure she takes in the company the man has accrued, “but they’re also a never-ending reminder that we’ve become new people since that ship went under.” “Why is that a bad thing?” Lou inquires, continuing to hear good things be spoken by the woman without being able to understand how she can say them from such a place of defeat. “It’s not a bad thing” Ally answers, pausing to regain her composure as best as she can whilst looking the man in the eyes, swiping at the trail of tears down her face as she forces herself to muster a smile. Lowering her voice to a near whisper, the woman places her hands against each side of her boyfriend’s face, looking him in the eyes as she tries to keep her emotion under check. “I ran off from Terry and the others because I didn’t want to be stuck waiting like them” Ally confesses, offering an explanation that the man had already begun coming toward by the remarks she’s paid in the seconds leading up to now. “I went on for some time until I ran into Val. He and the others took me in, and I felt like I finally had a chance to become someone new” she continues, pulling in a deep breath amidst another pause before letting it free in one, large exhale. “I did not get anywhere near as far as you did, baby” Ally declares as another tear runs down her face, “you have become a completely new person, and I feel like the same old Ally. That’s not a bad thing, it just means that I feel like...” Freezing in time as her lips come together only to pull apart again without a reply, the woman finds herself growing silent as the words she hoped to find throughout her speech appear to have never been discovered. Shaking her head, the sorrowful brunette tries to smile past the pain that roots itself deep within herself before looking back toward her boyfriend’s face. “I feel like I know myself as much as I know you, Lou...” Ally concludes, the grin she’d made her best effort toward putting on officially proving to be as unconvincing as the idea of their longed-for reunion had been, “...and I don’t really feel like I know you that well anymore.” “I’m no different today than I was before you and the others got in that damn lifeboat, Ally” Lou reassures, watching the remaining tears squeeze through the eyelids that his girlfriend presses together, her head shaking in refusal to the claim that he makes. “I met new people. That’s it. The only thing that’s different is the fucking facial hair and the cramps in my damn neck...” the man reassures, softening his voice to as close to a silent whisper as it can reach, “...that’s it.” “No, no. It’s not. It’s more... than just the facial hair, or the arm, or the metal stick you’ve got, it’s... more...” Ally argues back, refusing to fall from the stance she’s taken. “You’re a leader. Not just because you’re the most-fitting out of a group of high schoolers, but because you’re a real fucking man now. You make the hard calls, and you do the messy jobs” she proceeds, having found her verbal stride as she leaps from one point to the next in quick and confident succession. “Those people out there respect you. They value you, and they look up to you. You are a made man in their eyes, and that’s not to say you weren’t to us, but you are so much more than you were when we were getting drunk in the music room a few months ago” Ally hurries, defiantly holding her opinion in the face of her boyfriend’s adamant refusal. “I would love to get to know that man, Lou. I look forward to getting to know you all over again, but the point... is that... I don’t know you, Lou” she concludes, pulling the man’s face back toward him as it attempts to veer away, not wanting to go along with the woman’s conclusion. “I don’t know you like I used to. And even though I haven’t changed nearly as much as you have, I feel like you don’t know me like you used to either” Ally reassures, forcing the man to look her in the eyes, “I don’t think it’s fair to keep trying to pretend like that’s not true.” “It isn’t true” Lou declares, standing as firm in his judgement as Ally abides by her own, shaking his head from one side to the other as his girlfriend bobs hers up and down. “It is. The good thing about it is that we have all the time in the world to get reacquainted with each other” the woman remarks, doing all that she can to not leave her side of the defence riddled with the feeling of open-ended sorrow. “But we shouldn’t try our hand at that with the idea that there isn’t much ground to cover. We shouldn’t try and pretend like just a few days will make all things right” Ally continues, running her hands through the lengthy locks that her boyfriend sports. “I don’t understand what you’re suggesting then” Lou responds, clearing his throat as he lets free a sigh, “do you want us to just pretend like we’re strangers? Meet up for coffee in the morning and reintroduce ourselves all over again?” Laughing at the man’s proposal, the woman loses herself in the man’s eyes without outright declining the man’s suggestion, watching as his face sways with his shaking head. “We don’t have to be strangers in order to get to know each other again” Ally speaks in a whisper, again swiping at the tears that run down her face as she frees a heavy sigh, “let’s just agree to do this as if we were really old friends who got in contact again and decided to ease back into things.” “Like what? Like we’ve been apart for three years instead of three months?” Lou rebukes, still unwavering in his disinterest in abiding by the proposition presented to him, his disregard for it doing nothing to change the decision his girlfriend had made to start from scratch at a peaceful crossroads. “We’re just gonna go back to being, what, acquaintances?” he queries, starting to find himself coming to a realisation over what such an overture entails. “Does that mean...” Lou wonders, coming around to the specifics of what’s to unfold in the new approach he and the woman opposite him have seemingly set themselves up for, “...does that mean we’re breaking up?” Still forcing herself to wear as reassuring of a smile as she can manage, Ally looks into the confused and genuinely hurt face that her now seemingly ex-boyfriend adorns, unable to do much more than extend her hand as if to shake that of the man’s. Saying nothing, the woman sets aside her words in knowing that she likes their deal just as little as Lou does, unable to say anything without feeling like she’ll burst into tears. Left with only the gesture to receive his answers from, the survivor stares at the palm before pressing his lips together, slowly and begrudgingly lifting his fingers toward Ally’s. Briefly shaking on the arrangement, the pair allow their grasp to fall from each other’s, letting the woman step past her friend and exit the office she’d initially stepped into for space. Looking at the now-empty space that his ex-girlfriend had occupied just seconds ago, Lou sits with his thoughts for a few seconds as Ally traipses through the coffee shop, walking beyond the dining room and stepping into the larger expanse of the quiet town, holding her emotions back until she can be alone. In shock, Lou gradually turns back the way he’d entered, placing one foot in front of the other and re-entering the hallway with the strongest look of disbelief on his face. Before long, his eyes lift from the red tiled floor and toward the woman who stands by, an equally uncomfortable visage held in her eyes. Not needing to say a word in order to show that she’d heard most, if not all, of the conversation that had been endured, Marta stares at her mentor just as he looks toward her, their saddened expression holding firmly upon each other’s. Unable to move at first, Lou reaches into the office and depressingly retrieves his rebar staff, taking another few seconds before walking beyond his protege and into the larger coffee shop, carrying on with the day without much of another choice. == RISE and REVOLT == “We’re not moving” Jules replies, standing two metres ahead of his friend with both hands raised, a calm and unimposing tone carried through his voice. “Don’t talk either... Not unless I tell you to” Dawn responds, watching the men look away from her with different expressions of displeasure, their tongues pressing against the roof of their mouths and lips parted slightly with the subtle shake of their heads.
“This isn’t the way you want to do this, woman” Jules continues to speak, disavowing the order that he was paid by the seemingly hobbled gun woman in favour of trying to talk sense into her. “I told you to shut up” Dawn remarks once more, stepping away from the heavily damaged exterior of the hatchback with a noticeable limp. “The others will have heard the crash” Jules carries on, shrugging at the direction of the visually disgruntled survivor, “if they walk out here and see you pointing a gun at us, that’s not going to be a good look fo-” “If I have to warn you again, I’m gonna pull this trigger” Dawn interjects, growing tired of hearing the foremost American’s voice beyond the point she’s willing to stand it. “What’s going on!?” Adrian whispers toward Sebastian, watching as the man hurries back into the condo building itself in a hurry. “Dawn’s group tried to take one of the cars!” the man retreating with Courtney’s hand held in his own proclaims, dashing to their shared room in search of aid. “No we didn’t! We’re right here!” Darnell proclaims, stepping through the door to his group’s own room with Ally and Christina not too far behind, their appearance initially surprising Sebastian. “Marta and Lou just got back. Dawn’s car rammed into theirs” the man explains, releasing Courtney’s hand to allow the woman to hurry back to their room before turning toward the now concerned father. “Marta’s fine, but I’m pretty sure Lou’s in a bad way” Sebastian explains, looking at the relief that strikes Adrian’s face before patting him on the shoulder and passing by, “she’s got Jules and Terry at gunpoint right now.” Hearing the comments that are made, Ally stands in the hallway whilst Darnell and Christina race in the same direction that the other group departs from, running off to address the actions of their fellow group member whilst their third wheel stays behind. Looking around the mostly-empty lot, Dawn inspects her surroundings to find little of use, the only things catching her eye being the undamaged car she’d passed over and the running Wrangler she’d mangled. “You, the black guy in the back, go get that other car and bring it to me... Slowly” the woman explains, keeping herself as close to the damaged hatchback as she can to avoid whatever secondary attack the unified group she’d attempted to do wrong may launch. “I’m gonna need to go get the keys off of Sebastian. He’s the one who has them” Terry answers, presenting the woman with a dilemma that she finds very little ways around. Snarling, Dawn scans the area for another moment before looking toward the Wrangler, seeing the damage that was done to its back half before glancing at her damaged hatchback, comparing the two before stepping forward. “Get out of the car!” the woman proclaims, taking aim of her weapon toward Marta before finding her sights becoming immediately blocked by Lou’s body, which climbs over the centre console to shield his protege. “Look in the backseat” the wounded, one-armed figure remarks, preventing the woman behind him from speaking as he comments, noticing the eagerness in which Dawn limps toward him. “Get out of the car!” the woman barks again, only to receive just as much hesitation from the man as she received the first time around. “Look in the backseat” Lou repeats, paying no mind to the weapon that’s held at him, one that eventually becomes the only subject of interest from the attempted thief. “I’m not gonna tell you again” Dawn remarks, stopping her progression toward the vehicle and steadying her aim of the weapon, ready to pull the trigger if not given what she wants. “Let her take the car, Lou” Marta remarks, wrapping her arms beneath the man’s own and pressing her hands against his chest, trying to pull him as far away from the firearm as she can manage. Agreeing with the vehicle’s passenger, Dawn nods her head approvingly as she takes a lone step forward, “listen to the girl and give me the-” *pop pop pop pop* Struck by bullets twice in the lower back, once in the shoulder and a single time through the neck, Dawn hobbles forward and immediately loses her grasp on the pistol, her face having scrunched instinctively once splattered with blood from her own exit wounds. Crashing into the Wrangler for a second time, the woman’s body leaves streaks of gore across the vehicle’s damaged shell before dropping to her knees and collapsing to the ground. Bracing for dear life, Marta finds herself crammed into her seat by the body of her mentor, who had upped his efforts the second rounds had begun to fire off, pushing himself against his protege to take whatever gunfire may be headed her way. Kneeling close to the ground without anything to defend themselves with, Terry and Jules throw their arms over their heads before watching Dawn’s body collapse in the near distance, triggering the end of the sudden gun battle. Gasping for air as he throws himself against Marta, Lou watches as his attempted assailant plummets into the earth, dropping dead exactly where she stood without a clue as to how it happened. Joining their Wrangler-seated friend in inspecting the area, Terry and Jules direct their line of sight toward the front-facing windows of the rear-most flat, taking notice of the face that hides behind the smoking barrel of a rifle. Collectively averting their eyes from the scene of chaos, Lou and a cover-emerging Marta join the men that stand in the open parking lot in staring at the soul who’d spared them from looming danger. Pulling her finger out from the trigger guard and letting the aim of the weapon’s barrel fall toward the ground, Ally pulls her sights away from the victim she’d considered a friend just hours prior, locking them onto those in the Wrangler before guiding them toward Terry and Jules. Clearly disgusted with what she’d done, Ally lets out a sigh that makes the frown she wears appear to fill with a slight assurance. Having taken a seat on the window sill to clear herself a shot on the woman who’d attempted to leave them all behind, the apparent leader of what now becomes a group of three ducks back into her room as quickly as she’d leant out of it, pulling her gun through the open glass panes before closing the window outright without offering more than the exhaled breath. = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = Holding the end of his shortened arm with the freed hand on the opposite one, Lou spends the waking moments of a new day leaning against the condo’s painted siding and watching the remaining members of Val’s community dig a pair of graves. Having done his part in returning the body of the pair’s leader to them for a proper burial, the present, yet distant-minded survivor instead sits with the thoughts that cloud his mind, aware that there is one woman missing from the gravedigging. Watching the work be done without having any intention of helping out, Lou instead finds his motivations carrying him elsewhere, following the lead that the rest of his group had hours prior to the sun rising. Returning to the building’s insides, the man’s captivated mind draws him past the room that the majority of his group occupies, paying not one word to Josie, who stands in the open doorway and watches him stroll along without interfering. Knocking upon the door at the far end of the corridor, Lou waits out the seconds that proceed, hearing the footsteps within draw closer to the room’s entrance. Wearing a pair of sorrowful eyes and a dejected visage, Ally stands before her boyfriend’s figure without uttering a word, her thumb and palm wrapping around the wooden obstruction’s side as she stands by, patiently expecting the man across from her to speak first. Without doing so, Lou carries on into the room, stepping past his girlfriend and granting himself entry that the woman doesn’t argue against. With an equal hush, Ally pulls in a deep breath for whatever interaction is bound to proceed before closing the door. “Why?” the man wonders aloud, only allowing his voice to fill the air once he hears the entrance’s mechanisms shut into place, assuring him that the conversation that they’re bound to have will be heard only by themselves. “That’s a stupid question” Ally answers without much in the way of emotion within her tone, walking through the foyer she’d stood beside and into the adjacent kitchen. “She was your friend and you shot her dead” Lou retorts, a conclusion that the woman had already come to without the need of bringing it up. “Would you have rather I let her shoot you?” the visibly irritated survivor wonders aloud, wrapping her hands around the kettle that she’d seated beneath the sink’s faucet. “You know what my answer to that is” Lou quickly responds, watching as his girlfriend’s face lifts toward him, her hand guiding the container she carries toward the stove. “I know the answer to your question as well as I’m aware of what I did” Ally rebuttals, “I don’t need a reminder.” “I want to know why you did it” Lou hastily questions back, having entered the room empty handed and with a clear wonder hanging over his head like a rain cloud over a small town. Wearing her frown the way a survivor of war wears the wounds that their conflicts had scarred them with, Ally turns the dial on the appliance’s top and steps away, keeping her eyes from the figure of the man who questions her motivations. “She was your friend. You knew each other before we’d found each other, and-” Lou doubles down, continuing to ask the question that his girlfriend appears very disinterested in answering, her distant eyes accompanying the walk she takes past him and into the nearby hallway. Stopping himself from talking as Ally ventures past, the empty-handed visitor watches the flat’s only tenant dip into a room near the end of the passageway without letting him finish. Hanging his head, Lou listens to the sound of a bag’s zipper being adjusted in the distance as he makes an attempt at keeping his cool, aware of the distance that his girlfriend places between himself and the inquiry he raises. Trying his best to convince his better intentions to sit with the uncertainty that her actions had left him with, the man’s mind fails to persuade the man to exit the same way he’d entered, his need to know why she’d act as she had proves too strong to dissuade. “You didn’t waste a second to pull that trigger. All I want to know is why” Lou remarks, rounding the corner to find his girlfriend folding a small pile of t-shirts, tucking them away into the open bag that sits on the ground. “I’m not interested in having this conversation, Lou. Don’t bother me with it” Ally rejoinders, continuing to keep her line of sight from the man at her door, “unless we’re gonna fuck, there’s no reason for us to be in the same room as each other right now.” “Unless you want to hit the open road being unable to look at each other without feeling like there’s a massive elephant in the room, then yes, there is” Lou retorts, hearing the violent breath that his girlfriend lets fire through her nose before continuing to receive no reply. “You gave me this entire talk the other night about how these people are like family to you, only to shoot one of them dead nights later” the man continues, his refusal to let the talk die driving his girlfriend mad. “With how persistent you are, it’s starting to feel like you’re asking to be the next person I kill” Ally comments, focusing her attention squarely on the task she’s set for herself, giving little care into the rebuttals she offers now. “Would you?” Lou almost instantly asks, watching as his lover’s eyes fire toward him, her attempt at angrily folding the final shirt of the pile ceasing just as the final syllable of the inquiry is raised. Disgustedly extending her bottom lip farther than the one above it, Ally stares at the man who’d asked her such a vile and insulting question with the disbelief she believes is warranted. “How could you ask me something as sick as that?” the woman counters, frozen in a look of bewilderment at the unchanged expression her boyfriend wears. “Because, had one of the people in my group been in the place that Dawn was in, I wouldn’t have opened fire on them like that” Lou responds, shaking his head with a shrug of loss, becoming aware of the hurt that his inquiry had caused only after voicing it. “I get that she was waving a gun around, but that didn’t stop me from trying to reason with her” the man continues, the uneasiness that he feels within his core motivating him to try and best backtrack on the disparaging quandary. “Well then, I’m so fucking happy that you’re such a smarter and more compassionate person than me, Lou” Ally calmly quips back, justifiably throwing the man’s claim back into his face out of a place of pure bafflement. “That’s not what I meant” the man responds with a lowered face, knowing it not to matter now that he’s already dug himself into the hole he occupies. “I don’t give a fuck” Ally rebuttals, locking eyes with the man who quietly makes the call to not speak any further, her voice continuing to come across with a poised respect that hadn’t been duplicated exactly as presented by the one-armed stalwart. “She stole the car. She went out, stole the car, and tried to leave. She didn’t just leave you and your little Canuck buddies, she tried to leave Darnell, and Christina, and I as well” she speaks further, discarding the shirt into the luggage. “Dawn made her own goddamn call. Who’s to blame for it? I’m not sure I really give a damn, Lou. At the end of the day, she tried leaving us all out to dry” Ally concludes, stepping away from her bag with her finger pointed toward the direction they’d both entered from. “I made the call that I made. I saw someone who chose to not be with us threaten someone I love” she doubles down, looking into her boyfriend’s face as she draws closer to him, “so, like the traitor they were, I killed them.” Repulsed by the way in which he’d approached the conversation, Lou hangs his head in shame without knowing how to reply to the woman’s answer, feeling a sickened revulsion in his stomach that ties itself into knots. “I didn’t mea-” he attempts to comment, only for his voice to be dominated by the continuation of his girlfriend’s own, her finger holding firm in the direction of the condo’s communal space. “I don’t want to look at your goddamn face right now, Lou” Ally bites, her face wearing a furious glare of contempt for the way in which his accusation was levied, one that the man understands entirely. “You’ve got your answer. But the fact that you’d even suggest that I’d...” she clarifies, a tear falling down her cheek as Lou forces himself to look her in the eyes. “...Just get out” Ally finishes, ceasing her point before turning away from the man and retreating back toward her luggage sorrowfully, hoping that the man she wishes to leave will find it within himself to do as she pleads for him to. Pressing his eyelids shut, Lou lowers his face with shame and pulls out from the room, walking to the flat’s exit as he’d been requested to whilst his girlfriend stays behind. Trying to fight off the pain that she’d been left to stew in, the woman who’d spent the final hour of the prior day ending the life of her own friend struggles to keep herself contained for as long as necessary. Only giving into the distress that suffocates her mind once she hears the flat’s door close shut, Ally crumples over onto the bed and buries her face into the mattress, shoving it as far into the cushioned support as it takes to silence the open sobbing that she can no longer hold back. | “I was grasping at straws with the hatchback alone. I wasn’t convinced that thing would’ve made it very far on the tracks” Sebastian explains, shaking his head in refusal at the damage done to the vehicle Dawn had attempted to steal. “That means we’re down to a truck and blind hope in Josie’s abilities to get the Wrangler road-ready again” Adrian responds, his arms crossed and eyes squinting into the distant, cloudy skies whilst Terry stands beside him. “If Josie can’t get it done on the Jeep, then we’ll be stuck here until more people start getting picked off” the American side’s leader comments with a sigh, provoking a disturbed shake out of Adrian’s head. “I don’t even want to think about that after the shit that bitch tried to pull on Lou and Marta last night” the father responds, a conclusion that the once cabin-owner doubles down on, patting his friend on the shoulder as he steps past. “How is it looking?” Sebastian queries, leading the men along a trail of tire tracks that lead to the vehicle with a mangled back half. “Well, it won’t look too pretty, but it doesn’t seem like there’s much structural damage aside from the shell” Josie answers, speaking from beneath the vehicle that she shines a torch light around the underbelly of, “the axle is out of alignment, but there doesn’t seem to be too much more damage than that.” “Can you fix it well enough to drive?” Adrian inquires, not needing to understand the issue to know what the collective hope is. “I can take a chance and hope that Val’s people and the artists in town are all dead. Scope out the place for a garage I can snatch some shit from and fix this thing up” Josie answers, crawling out from beneath the messed up vehicle, “that’ll take a day or two at least if all goes according to plan.” “Is there any choice we’ve got that will let us leave today?’ Sebastian questions with a squint in his eye, watching as the woman dusts herself off once returning to her feet. “I mean, yeah. We could all pack into the truck and hope to find another car in driving shape between here and that train station we’re headed to” Josie answers, not finding it to be as unreasonable as some others have made it out to seem, “but, as far as the Jeep’s concerned? It wouldn’t be safe.” Placing his hands onto his hips, Terry turns away from the woman whilst the men he’d approached alongside take on their various expressions of displeasure. “I’d rather not take any chances with whatever’s going on back in town” Sebastian responds, aware of the same conclusion that Josie’s shrug indicates. “I guess we’re gonna have to learn how to get along then” the mechanic replies, looking the Canadian decision-maker in the eyes as she speaks. | “How long?” Sonya wonders aloud, stepping through the hallway that leads to the flat’s living room. “Darnell said about an hour, so we shouldn’t be staying here for much longer than that” Josie replies, loading protein bars, rolls of tape and other small supplies into her knapsack whilst Elsie watches on. “I'll let the others know” the younger Golden sibling replies, sliding her second arm into the strap of her own bag as she makes for the door, leaving the room to only the pair of inhabitants. Already having packed her own small bag, Elsie traipses into the kitchen and does a final check of the cabinets and drawers whilst her friend hangs back, tossing her compiled belongings onto a chair in the corner of the room. “So, we’re all going in one car, huh?” the blonde inquires, watching as Josie approaches the window at the back of the room, its vantage point affording her a look at the snow-covered, rolling hills that sit beneath a rather gloomy Christmas day. “We don’t have much of a choice but to get along now” the mechanic responds, clapping her hands as they swing by each of her sides, the time between the present and their departure not being capable of running out fast enough. Nodding in the background, Elsie continues to look into one cupboard after another with a lone question on her mind, one that she’s not quite sure how to bring up, but has all the opportunity to do so in the moment. Occupying the room in silence as they attend to different responsibilities, the girls take toward the hush over the room in separate approaches. Whilst Josie waits out the clock that ticks down to their withdrawal by taking in the scenic surroundings she will likely never see again, Elsie endures the uncomfortability that comes with her desire to ask one inquiry that has sat itself at the front of her mind for the last few days. “Do you remember that hike we went on with Darnell and Christina the other day?” the blonde comes out and wonders aloud, watching as the person she raises the question toward turns back with a lifted eyebrow. “Yes?” Josie replies without certainty, finding the question that’s raised to be rather odd and unbefitting at the moment, “it’s kind of hard to forget something that literally happened the other day.” “I know, I... Yeah, I know” Elsie stammers, leaving her knapsack to rest just beside the sink, the blonde marches around the corner and leans against the bunk beds situated off to the side. “When Darnell was talking about his mom, and about what happened to his brother, I noticed this look on your face” the woman continues, watching Josie’s eyes begin to fall at the recollection of the conversation that had taken place that night. “I don’t mean to intrude or anything. It’s just that I think there was something about it that caught your mind a bit” Elsie explains, seeing the nod that her friend initially reacts to her with, “I just wanna let you know that I’m here for you in case you want to talk about it.” Parting her lips with a smile, Josie laughs at the offer that’s presented to her, knowing it to be true, but finding it almost as cliche as anything can be. Looking toward the ceiling as her smile remains, Josie thinks about the words she wishes to use as she draws her mind back around to the tale that Darnell had fed them along their journey, unable to fully convince herself that it was true. “My brother was a mechanic. He opened up his own shop back home maybe a decade ago. Bought an old garage a few blocks from where we grew up” the woman confesses, confident in the trust she has with the woman she speaks to. “Whenever I didn’t want to go to school, I’d pretend to be sick and my mom would drive me down a few streets so my brother could look after me” she continues, wearing a grin as she remembers fonder times than the ones she endures in the present day. “She said that if I wasn’t interested in getting a good education, I should go visit my brother and see how the uneducated lived life” Josie laughs, leaning against a wall opposite the side of the room Elsie sits on the bottom bunk of. “My brother wasn’t a very good student. So, when he was old enough, he got a job in a shop on the other side of town. He learned a bit, worked his way up, and saved enough to buy his own shop” she continues, allowed to speak freely without fear of interruption. “No matter how hard my brother worked, mom always thought of him like he’d never accomplished anything. He may have bought his own shop, but he never walked out of school with a degree. It never sat well with her.” Watching on with a slight squint in her eyes, Elsie leans forward with her arms draped over the tops of her thighs, looking in the direction of the woman who continues to carry a smile toward the ground that her sights lock onto. “My brother didn’t care, though. To him, he’d earned the right to consider himself a made man. He made good money, knew good people, and that was what mattered” Josie concedes, finally looking across the room, “I wanted to be the same thing one day.” Curling her lips upward, Elsie’s pleased demeanour begins to fall into one of uncertainty as she watches the light in Josie’s eyes begin to falter, falling along with the woman’s pupils. “Whenever my mom would send me down to him, he’d teach me, little-by-little, the skills he’d learned since he started working. After about three years, he started trusting me to do the smaller jobs. Oil changes, standard checks... the basics.” Though she speaks of accomplishments, Josie’s face fails to wear the pride that would seemingly accompany the remarks made, instead sporting a dejected hanging of her spirits. “Then he died a few years ago. It was pretty much how you’d expect a story like his to end in the movies” she concludes, shaking her head defeatedly, “a young black man makes something of himself, gang violence takes over the neighbourhood, and the young black man catches a stray bullet in a gunfight.” Surprised at the haste in which her friend’s retelling concludes and in the manner which its end if composed of, Elsie lifts off of her knees and holds her apologetic expression toward a refusing Josie. “I know, I know. I haven’t told many people that, but I’ve gotten the same ‘I’m so sorry’ from all of them” the woman remarks with a forced smile, not having opened her vulnerabilities for the purpose of drawing sympathy, “just do me a favour and...” “I wasn’t going to say that” Elsie responds, shaking her head as the woman across from her remains silent. As opposed to finishing her thought, the blonde lady returns to her quietude, having assured her friend that the same reply would not be given and leaving it at that, a correction that puts a renewed smile on Josie’s face before it bows toward the floor once more. “Anyway. I got home and my mom broke the news to me. She said he’d been in trouble with some local guys and they went after him purposefully” Josie explains, shrugging off the declaration as one she knew had not been true as far back as when it was first made. “I asked her last year why she lied to me, and she said she didn’t know how else to tell me what happened” the woman concludes, seemingly less affected by the lie than it seems she should be. “I’d moved to a different state a few months after it happened, but I still came around for holidays and birthdays” Josie recalls, guiding her eyes toward the peaceful hills that bare the weight of the Canadian winter atop them. “When I asked her why she’d lied to me, she said it was the safest way she knew how” the woman confesses, letting out a prolonged sigh as she watches the sunlight break through a slight gap in the storm clouds above. “She thought that, if she told me he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I’d get really down in the dumps over it. She worried I’d think less of life if I knew it could just be taken away without doing anything wrong” Josie explains, finally returning her sights to the woman seated across from her, “I held a bit of resentment toward her until then for making my brother out to seem like a thug. But after, I appreciated her a lot more for trying to just make sure I kept my head up.” Mustering the ability to return a faint smile, Elsie watches her friend reciprocate the expression and shrug, unsure of what more can be said. “That’s it. That’s my story” Josie concludes, waiting for a moment for the blonde to stand out from her seat and cut across the carpeted floor, walking up to the survivor and pulling her in for a hug, their arms taking each other into the embrace and lifting their collective morales. | Pushing their various crates of food and goods toward one side of the truck bed, Lou and Marta make room within the rear side of the vehicle for Adrian, Sebastian, and Courtney to join them. “How’s your neck?” the lone Simard child wonders aloud, watching her mentor wince in pain at every prolonged movement, his sigh of relief flooding the air once he earns the chance to sit down and settle in for the ride ahead. “Not in a bad enough shape to keep me from moving” the lone wanderer responds, passing the woman an appreciative grin, the nod that he receives from her assuring him that the answer is fair enough for her to accept. Crammed against the door just behind the driver’s seat, Ally looks toward the truck’s bed through the corner of her eye, seeing the warmth shared between her boyfriend and his protege whilst Darnell’s frame leans against her, making room for Christina and Jenn to join them. “Are you sure this thing is gonna be able to make room for three more people?” Terry inquires, inspecting the vehicle that Josie and Elsie occupy the front-most seats in, seeing very little room to work with. Looking around, the passengers of the vehicle survey the interior for room that doesn’t exist within the back, the variety of goods that line the entire side opposite those in the flatbed leaving room there sparse as well. “Hey, Josie. How far do you think that Wrangler would be able to take us?” Jules calls out, preferring not to wrestle for room through a journey that they expect to take days at the very least. “If you treat it like a lover, it could take you the entire way to Calgary” Josie answers, calling back from the Silverado’s driver’s seat, “but it’ll give you one fucking hell of a fight. That shit’s not something you’re gonna want if we’re crossing a bridge or driving over some ice.” “How about this. If you were one of us having to squeeze together and make room, would you rather spend the whole trip crammed up like we are or take your chances with the Wrangler?” Sonya questions aloud, watching Josie quickly unbuckle her seatbelt and free the driver’s seat for anyone else to claim. “I trust myself more than I trust most of you behind the wheel of that thing” the mechanic proclaims, throwing her thumb in the direction of the open seat. “Since I’m sure we’ll end up carrying this bag of ass as far as we can anyway, I’ll drive the Wrangler and someone else can lead the way in the truck” she proclaims, watching an eager Jules lift his hand into the air, volunteering to take over. “In that case, I think Courtney and I should go in the other car with Sonya” Sebastian remarks, a conclusion being drawn that not a single vote of opposition is cast toward. With the groups appearing to be set for departure, Terry begins following Josie toward the Wrangler before stopping halfway, looking back toward the truck as Jules climbs into the driver’s seat. “Hey, hold up just a second!” the man proclaims, catching the attention of those both in the truck and heading away from it. Having drawn the attention toward himself, the American side’s leader pauses for a moment before looking toward the Wrangler, struggling to bring himself to say what he’d intended. “I, uh... I think I’d be more, uh...” the man proclaims, pressing his hand against the back of his head as a flood of guilt comes over him for holding up the departure for the reason he does, “...I’d be more comfortable if Darnell or Christina went in the Wrangler too.” With eyes from both the flatbed and the truck’s front seat taking toward the bench between them, the pair of survivors called out look toward Terry for a moment before a reply is offered. “Why should w-?” Christina wonders aloud, looking back toward the man through the parted window before falling silent, gestured to do so by the hand of the man beside her. “No problem, I’ll come with you guys!” Darnell proclaims, taking it upon himself to set the example for his side of the group in playing nicely, “after what happened last night, it’s totally understandable!” “You shouldn’t have to go with them just ‘cause of what D-” Christina rebuttals, finding herself interrupted by the man that doubles down on setting the precedent. “It’s only for the car ride and we’ll be right behind you guys. It’s only fair” Darnell responds, beginning to move toward the exit that Ally momentarily climbs down from, freeing a path for her friend to depart. Being passed by the man without a word uttered to her, Ally steps back into the vehicle and passes a momentary look toward Christina, who glares at her with disgust that’s given no verbal explanation. Accepting the sourness that she’s stared at with, the brunette settles back into her seat and prepares for the truck to begin moving whilst Darnell journeys across the lot, joining the survivors that split away from the Silverado as all appears to fall into place. Slowly rolling out of their parked positions, the pair of vehicles descend upon the mainroad and officially begin their journey toward the home they wish to make for themselves, knowing the distance between where they start and where they’re meant to end to be vast and unrelenting. Collectively unsure of what’s to be expected now that their sights have been locked upon the Canadian prairies, the divided groups settle in for the long haul, hoping for the adventure to pay off accordingly. == RISE and REVOLT == “How much longer are we gonna sit around and wait for them to play nice?” Jules questions aloud, seated a lone metre away from the fireplace that the group’s luxury condo meeting ground is fitted with. “Unless we’re all gonna pack up our shit and run off into the night, it seems like that’ll be up to them” Elsie responds, standing beside a door to the flat’s mountain-overseeing porch with her arms crossed.
“Ally’s not gonna do that to them. Leaving them behind isn’t on the table” Lou assures, a conclusion that the blonde woman with the tomahawk had already come to. “Exactly. So we might as well not even bother asking that question, Jules” Elsie finishes, a statement that prompts the subject of it to bow his head. “What if we try extending an olive branch to them? Try doing something that shows them we’re making an effort?” Josie proposes, looking around the smaller-than-usual assortment of survivors. “That’s what we’re doing. It’s the only reason why they’re here and not out getting slaughtered with their friends” Terry responds, a conclusion that he finds a challenge from across the room. “I don’t think they see it that way” Adrian responds, standing beside his daughter, who occupies the other side of the roaring fireplace from Jules, “the only reason they’re here is because Ally is too. This is less about them than it is about her, and they know that.” “Well, what more do they want? What more can we even do?” Jules queries, watching as the father’s eyes relocate toward his person, “they’re lucky to even be alive. Even if it is ‘cause of Ally, they’ve got a free ticket away from danger. Ain’t that good enough?” Though he asks the rest of the group, his eyes inevitably focus in on the one-armed stalwart across the living room from him, reaching the handicapped trooper before the conclusion of his comment can even be made. “It’s obviously not good enough. Unfortunately, not much else is” Josie replies, leaning back into the wall she sits against, “I don’t know what else we can do, though.” For a few seconds, the group remains within a palpable sensation of silence, one that provokes an effort of deep thought to come over those looking for answers in places where not much of one can be found. “If we-?” Elsie begins to ask, suggesting the first thing that comes into her mind before finding herself interrupted by the tapping of knuckles that interjects. “Alright, which one of you assholes ordered takeout?” Terry chirps, standing up the moment that he watches Lou rise off the chair he’d taken, pointing his finger at the limited few that stay seated, his attempt at making a joke of himself finding minimal success, “come on, my cooking was not that bad.” Leaving behind a few smirks and amused shakes of heads, the American leadership follows his longtime friend to the door and peers past once it opens. “I know my presence probably isn’t appreciated right now, but I come in peace” Darnell remarks, immediately lifting his hands in surrender as he calmly states his case, not making a move unless asked to. “What do you want?” Terry immediately questions, assuming control of the conversation that Lou doesn’t immediately appear interested in running. “To start getting all of our groups to get the hell along. That’d be nice” Darnell answers, watching as the doubtful roll of the American’s eyes initially react to him. “You’re here, aren’t you? Was us bringing you along not good enough for those asshole friends of yours?” Terry retorts, watching as the well-intentioned survivor wears neither a face of grievance or pleasure. “I’m not here to start trouble. I don’t like this ‘you versus us’ bullshit anymore than it looks like you do” Darnell confesses, taking a step back before placing his hands out at either side, “I’m here alone. This isn’t a game, I just came here to talk.” “Then start talking” Terry quickly rejoinders, only to watch Lou turn back and glance at him from over his shoulder, the silent look that he receives from the handicapped man at the door gesturing for him to lower the guard they’ve raised. Not needing to take much of an effort in deciphering what was meant, the confrontational survivor bows his head and steps back, allowing his friend to open the door the rest of the way and allow the Canadian opposition entry. “Look, I get why they’re being pricks about this. I don’t like it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get it” Darnell admits, stepping into the room with his hands held out, showing those within that he comes in peace. “Then tell us why. I get that it was cruel to cut the dude open, but it’s not like we didn’t have a reason for it” Elsie remarks, helping her peers embrace the discussion at hand by approaching it calmly and without judgement. “Because Val deserved better than that” Darnell answers politely, stopping his progression just before he can reach the centre of the room, addressing those that surround him. “Look, most of us only knew the dude for a little bit, but it’s less about how close we were to him and more about who he was” the visitor continues, pausing as Lou and Terry return to their original places within the parlour. “When the artists forced us to run off, Val always made sure that he and some others went back and reclaimed the bodies of whoever we lost” the man continues, allowed to speak without interruption by a room hesitant to cut him off. “He thought it was respectful. We were still alive, and the people that weren’t were lost so we could keep going” Darnell proceeds, gradually allowing his eyes to take from one side of the room to the other, “he thought they all deserved a proper burial for that.” Watching a few different expressions come over those he speaks with, Darnell’s eyes gloss over the lone wanderer who sits beside him, his face taking toward the carpeted floor. “If I’m being honest, I’m just as upset as the others are. The only difference is that I don’t see a reason to keep holding onto that grudge” the man confesses, only re-earning the line of sight from Josie and Adrian, others remaining averted elsewhere. “Of all the people that deserved that kind of respect, it should’ve been Val” the well-spoken guest concludes, finally reclaiming Terry and Elsie’s eyes as he does so, “it doesn’t sit well with us that the only person who didn’t get it... was him.” Remaining held upon the floor, Marta, Lou, and Jules keep their sights held elsewhere before the latter-most man speaks up, offering a mindset that diverts from that of the man who’d approached them. “I don’t really want to be ‘that guy’ here, but this whole conversation is ridiculous” Jules proclaims, gaining the unobstructed line of sight from all but one of the room’s occupants. “If it was one of us who died, you and your group would care just as much about how we feel as we care about the way you do” the man doubles down, uttering a comment that doesn’t sit well with most of the collective group, “besides, it’s hard to give a damn when two of your friends are so damn difficult to like.” “I get it. Dawn’s a hardass and Christina’s a pessimist. I don’t have the brightest outlook on many things either, and I know we’re not easy to get along with” Darnell confesses, stopping as he looks back to the man he addresses. “Bro, I know so little about you that I’m not even sure which one of those girls is which” Jules interrupts, a remark that most of the group finds reason in, “I don’t even know your name! We barely even know you people, how do you expect us to care!?” “My name is Darnell, and I don’t expect you to care” the man quickly answers, refusing to raise his voice in an effort of ensuring the peace is kept. “That doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to try” Darnell adds on, watching as Jules’ expression lights up as if he’s eager to defend himself, only to prevent him from doing so, “I get that some of you think bringing us along is enough, but that’s not how the others see it. I only expect you to try because it’s you people that want us to get along.” “And you don’t!?” Jules quickly rebuttals, putting aside the prior defence he’d wished to utter in favour of presenting the question aloud, the rest of the room going as quiet as the tension that lingers is. “I, personally, would like to get along with the people I have to work with to survive” Darnell counters, allowed to continue speaking through the greenlight that the other side of the conversation’s patience acts as, “the others, though, will take a little bit more convincing.” “Well, when the others decide to be grateful that we didn’t ditch their asses in the cold... You let us know” Jules replies, allowing his displeasure with the other half of the travelling survivors to present itself stronger than his will to iron out the kinks in their new union. “Go ahead and let them know that we’re leaving this place when the sun comes up” the American wanderer remarks, climbing off of his seat beside the fireplace, “if they don’t want to get along, they can stay here.” Irritated by the feeling that the conversation did little to service the discovery of a solution, Jules marches for the room’s exit, leaving without another word as the rest of his friends stay behind, sitting within the presence of the calm visitor. = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = “I’d rather not be anywhere near those assholes right now” Jenn confesses, taking a trolley by the handles and pushing it along the asphalt parking lot that Courtney joins her on. “Yeah, but we’re staying on different sides of the building” the paramotorist replies, carrying a plastic crate full of canned goods over her shoulder as the wheels on the metal bin rattle against the ground well after the sun has gone down. “Being in the same building as them is bad enough. Just thinking about that pissy-faced prick aggravates me” a foul expression-wearing Jenn confesses, closing in on the trio of vehicles that her fellow survivors had managed to narrow their options to. “We appreciate your help anyway” Courtney replies, watching as her boyfriend approaches the parked cars from the opposite direction, carrying a jerry can in his non-dominant hand, “waiting for morning to do this didn’t sit well with us.” Passing the woman alongside her a half-smile, Jenn begins to pull at the rolling trolley and slowly guide it to a stop, leaving it stationed beside the open trunk of a green hatchback from the nineties. “We’ll have enough gas to make it to the station tomorrow. I’m not sure how much more fuel we’ll burn carrying all the people and supplies that we’ve got, but hopefully it won’t be a lot” Sebastian murmurs, setting the can beside the vehicle it will inevitably be emptied into. “That works for me” Courtney responds, grunting as she tilts her head to the side, transferring the crate of metal cans into the hands of her boyfriend, who quickly lowers it into the vehicle’s trunk. “We have settled on leaving tomorrow, right?” Sebastian inquires, holding his breath so as not to be too loud when placing down the container of supplies, “it’d probably be best not to fill the cars up now if we’ll be staying any longer.” “That’s what I’m hearing, but it looks like you can ask the others that yourself” Jenn murmurs, prompting the couple to look toward the building their peers reside within, watching as the staff-wielding resident of it approaches. “Heading somewhere, Lou?” Sebastian inquires, looking past the vehicle’s shell to find the man in question marching forward with his face held toward the ground. “Yeah. I’m hiking back down the mountain” the young man responds, surprising those that he nears closer to, “I’m hoping there’s a chance we can bury the hatchet with the assholes Val was leading. I need to go back and grab his corpse in order to find out, though.” “The sun just set, like, an hour ago. Are you sure it’ll be safe to head down there?” Courtney responds, yet to strike upon the concern that rests upon her boyfriend’s mind. “Not only that, but how long has it been since you slept?” Sebastian doubles down, watching as the young survivor shakes his head with widened eyes, “wouldn’t it be better if you got some sleep before we went out tomorrow?” “It’d probably be better if I could sleep at all, let alone through the night” Lou corrects, tucking his weapon beneath his arm as he leans against the hatchback, “we’ve got to find an olive branch to give these people. Letting them give Val a proper burial might be that olive branch.” “Are you sure?” Jenn challenges, tilting her chin toward the ground despite keeping her eyes glued to the man that stands before her, “sure enough to take on the danger that comes with this little adventure of yours?” Shaking his head in refusal, Lou pulls in a deep breath before actually replying, conceding to the uncertainty that lingers over his decision. “Not at all” the man admits, looking back at the brunette with a shrug, “but, if it pays off, I’ll be glad I took it.” “In that case, let me do you a favour” Sebastian replies, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and retrieving a key, one that flies through the air and into the survivor’s hand. “You’re more useful to us in one piece than you are in several pieces. Save yourself some of the danger and take that Jeep over there” the man remarks, gesturing toward the coverless Wrangler near the end of the trio. “Are you sure we have enough gas for this?” Lou queries back, only to watch Sebastian chuckle and shake his head in refusal. “I’ve got no idea, but I’m sure it’ll get you there and back at the very least” the man who’d tossed him the keys responds, “if there’s a chance this will work out, I’m willing to sacrifice some gas to make that happen.” “You’re not in much of a position to refuse it anyway” Jenn remarks, leaning against the handlebars of the trolley as she looks at her friend, “how else are you gonna manage to carry the dude’s body all the way back up here?” “Probably with her” Courtney quickly answers, pointing toward the direction in which Lou had come from, the first member of the four survivors to take notice of the young woman that follows after her mentor. “I know you’re going off to grab Val’s corpse, Lou” Marta proclaims, having taken notice of the man’s absence whilst being left in the dark over the reasoning just as the rest of the group had been, “you may not have told us, but you better not have thought I wouldn’t have noticed.” “Go get some sleep, Marta. Sebastian’s letting me take the Jeep he rounded up, I’ll be fine on my own” Lou replies, only for the young woman to dismiss his advice exactly as he’d expected her to. “Good. In that case, we shouldn’t need to worry about being gone for very long” the protege retorts, smirking toward her mentor as she passes him, approaching the Wrangler with sights set on the gas canister near it, “besides, if my sleep mattered, you wouldn’t have woken me up for training at sunrise.” “Marta, I’ll-” Lou attempts to rejoinder, only to be kept from continuing any further by the voice of his friend a few paces off to the side, her amused tone catching his ear enough to silence him momentarily. “Don’t bother fighting the girl, Lou. You know she’s not letting you run off alone” Courtney interjects, locking eyes with the survivor as he takes notice of the paramotorist’s smile, aware of the hopes that the older woman holds in what such a journey could bring on. | Looking deep into the depths of night whilst occupying the well-lit patio of an empty condo, Jules keeps to himself and braces against the bite of the winter air before glancing over his shoulder at the sound of a second presence. Opening the door to the room he’d assumed the porch had belonged to, Terry looks in to find his friend standing on his lonesome, taking in the sights of the snow-covered hills their building sits at the bottom of with a bottle of vodka in hand. “Damn, where the fuck did you find booze at?” the visiting man inquires, hearing his friend’s quiet chuckle react just a second before watching the air that rests ahead be filled with the breath that’s expelled. “Check the drawers, man. This place has got a ton of shit, it’s just that nobody decided to check it out until now” Jules laughs, hearing the footsteps grow closer before they join him on the exposed terrace. Allowing the bottle to fall into the possession of friendly hands, Jules clears his throat before pulling away from the bannister, having spent a long enough period of time on his feet to justify taking one of the patio’s empty chairs. “I hope you know that you weren’t wrong back there” Terry remarks, a conclusion that his pal had already come to many hours before, “they wouldn’t have cared if it was one of us.” “I know, bro” Jules reassures, letting out a long sigh as he leans back in his seat, embracing the cold and rigid straw material that makes up the chair as if it were within the warmth of the Caribbean. Nodding, Terry takes his swig from the bottle before remaining in silence for another few seconds, staring into the cloudy sky that he can just barely make out the direction of moonlight from behind. “We still gotta give it a shot, bro” the American group’s leader doubles down, again voicing a conclusion that his friend had made peace with prior to his arrival. “I know, bro” Jules answers again, closing his eyes and leaning back with arms leant over each side of the seat, allowed to continue like that for a few further seconds before Terry turns back, setting sights upon the man he’d known longer than almost anyone else. “At least we’re not the only black dudes around anymore” the liquor-wielding survivor declares, lifting the bottle to his lips whilst hearing his pal’s laughter give way through the quiet air. “We’ve got ourselves a fellow brother, brother” Jules jokes, his eyelids still pressed together and face still taken toward the terrace’s roof, “we’re really making the most out of our civil rights, ain’t we?” “On god, bro” Terry assures, lifting the bottle toward the air before downing yet another swig, drinking to the proclamation they take a momentary solace in. Nodding, Jules allows his eyes to open after he takes in a heavy breath, freeing it all at once before setting his sights upon the mostly-featureless hill their side of the condo faces. Pressing his hip against the porch’s side, Terry lets the bottle come to a gentle rest on a nearby table, his arms crossing as his body remains directed toward his friend, whose eyes gaze beyond the Canadian mountains. “What’s got you up so late at night?” the American leader queries, knowing there to be a reason for his fellow survivor’s purposeful need to quarter himself off beyond the altercation they’d had with their less-than-friendly acquaintances earlier in the day. For a moment, Jules doesn’t reply, his silent stare into the wilderness being all that is shown to the man that presents him the question. “I just want it to matter, bro” he finally confesses, gently swaying his head from one side to the other as he looks ahead, keeping his sights held firmly upon the rolling hills just barely beyond his reach, “we’ve got nobody but each other now. No family. Not aunts or uncles. No mom, no sisters, no brothers.” Falling to the ground, Terry’s eyes retain the curiosity they had held when he’d first entered the flat, his ears keeping cemented upon the words that leave his friends lips. “I don’t know where they are. We’re not gonna see them ever again, I know that for sure. Maybe they’re dead, maybe they’re alive, who knows? Not me” Jules explains, sitting with the weight that this realisation leaves him to experience, its mass pressing upon his chest and making it harder to breathe easily. “Everyone we grew up with is gone. Whether they’re dead or not, we’re never gonna see them again” the man continues, wearing a deeper squint in his eyes whilst the man he speaks to continues to look at the ground that supports his feet. “We’ve only got each other. Once we go, that’s it. Once we start losing each other, that’s it” Jules explains, his voice lowering the slightest amount, barely able to be noticed, “and we’ve still made it this far without them. We still got here without them.” With his arms still locked together and body still pressing into the bannister, Terry’s face carries upward, taking his sight alongside it as his eyes fall upon the man opposite him. As if it were on instinct, Jules pulls his attention away from the hills and returns it to his friend, who patiently waits for him. “I just want to believe there’s a reason we’ve gotten as far as we have, y’know?” the seated survivor wonders aloud, trying his best to present a grin, “I want it to matter.” Feeling both the pride of accomplishment and the daunting emptiness that comes with such vapid loneliness, Terry’s face lightens itself by lifting the corners of his mouth upward. Not having anything to respond with, the man who’d taken it upon himself to serve his friends when neither Lou or Jenn could now wears that pleasure as a badge of honour and that void as a caution for what could always be around the corner, kept from dwelling on it for too long as engines roar in the near distance. | Having deconstructed a tent to use its nylon covering as a tarp to wrap Val’s body in, Lou and Marta retreat from the again-vacated campground under the power of their vehicle, riding out the uneven terrain that its wheels drive over. “That was easier than I thought it was going to be” the man’s protege murmurs, resting her forearm against the open window of her passenger’s door as she steadies herself in the rocking seat, fighting against the motion of their ride. “It was a hell of a lot easier without having to hike all the way down here and do it myself, that’s for sure” Lou jokes, having rested his rebar staff just beside the corpse that their Wrangler now acts as a hearse for. Looking to his right, the man lets his eyes momentarily fall upon Marta before taking back to the road, a genuine smile left to overcome his face at the sight of her. “Thanks for coming along to help” the man remarks, prompting the woman to look in his direction with an equally satisfied visage. “I was happy to” Marta assures, watching the man nod back to her as he attempts to navigate the forest they traverse, nearing the open road they hope to be embraced by the steadiness of. Tapping her fingers along the passenger door’s exterior, the young woman follows whatever environment falls beneath the guidance of their headlights, allowing the space between herself and her mentor to go without comments for the time being. After a few minutes of jolting back and forth with the weight of the roughed-up Wrangler, the pair find their journey coming back around to the even, snow-covered, slightly-icy terrain that they’d pulled off of to enter the forest. Not needing to talk in order to enjoy the company of the man she’d grown close to over the prior few weeks and months, Marta simply gazes around at the quiet earth that surrounds them, absent of people and traffic in ways that it never had been before the dead came back around. Inevitably being stolen by the display that sits upon the vehicle’s centre console, the young woman’s eyes take a brief glance at the time and date that sits along the top of the screen. Forced to look back once more, Marta leans in her chair and inspects the numbers and letters for herself, surprised to discover what they signify. “Is this your way of telling me you want to turn on the radio?” Lou inquires, humoured by the woman’s sudden fixation on the display, smiling at her surprised visage. “Is that the right date!?” the woman wonders aloud, pointing at the time that reads the day just beside it as she turns to face the driver, “is it really Christmas Eve!?” With a quick read of the numbers presented to him, Lou pouts his lip and shrugs back, not really caring one way or another. “I’m pretty sure it is” the man answers, splitting his line of sight between the road ahead and the woman that accompanies him, “even if it weren’t, there’s nothing to keep us from pretending it is.” Locking eyes with the woman whose hair blows back from the Canadian winter air, Lou shares a similarly jubilant simper to the one that’s dawned upon his protege’s face, their joy taken simply from being within each other’s good graces. “Happy almost Christmas then, Lou” Marta remarks, watching as her mentor laughs, nodding as he keeps the vehicle as close to the side of the road as he’s meant to, unable to see the lines that had been painted for him to follow now that they’re beneath snow. “And happy almost Christmas to you, Marta” Lou replies, watching as the woman leans back in her chair with a smile, lifting her left hand to swipe the strands of hair that fly back and tuck them behind her ear. Implying that their destination rests only a few minutes away, the GPS directs the single-handed driver the way in which he’d wished to go, essentially presenting the pair with a countdown of the time they have left together. “What are you gonna do when we get to Calgary?” Marta inquires, looking toward the man whose eyes keep upon the road whenever possible, taking notice of their journey’s near-end and wanting to spend it talking as they normally would when out hunting. “That’s a good question. I’m not really sure, to be honest” Lou answers, struggling to find many answers worth offering, “what about you?” Watching the world pass them by through the windowless opening in her door, Marta shrugs at the question, having just as little to offer as her mentor had seconds prior. “I don’t really know either” she confesses, leaning her head against the leather upholstery as she catches the faintest glimpse of the ski lodge in the near distance, saddled atop the mountain and seated beneath the cloud-covered moonlight. “When I was a little girl, I always thought I’d just do the thing that seemed like what every girl did. Find a husband, pop out a few kids, live in a neighbourhood with a white picket fence and wait for them to go to college” she continues, staring out at the world as her mentor passes a glance toward her. “But none of that stuff can really happen anymore. So, I’m pretty much in the same boat as everyone else” Marta concludes, ending her hope for the future on a rather sombre note. “Why not?” Lou questions back, intrigued by the approach that the young woman beside him has taken, finding it oddly pessimistic for her to hold. “Why would I want that anymore?” Marta challenges, looking toward her mentor’s direction with a humoured gleam in her eye, “look at the world we’re in. Even if it was possible to have a family in it, where exactly would I raise a kid in it?” “Why not Calgary? That’s the whole reason we’re going there” Lou responds, shaking his head as his eyes meet his protege’s own for a brief moment, eventually being reclaimed by the turn that he slows the Wrangler down to take. “Maybe other people will stay out in these big cities fighting the dead and looting for scraps, but that doesn’t mean we have to” the man assures, dismissing that life as not being of his interest, “we’re going somewhere worth building a life in.” “How realistic is that, though?” Marta questions back, ceasing the tapping of her fingers on the outer side of the door in favour of pressing them against the shell, holding on firmly as the car pulls onto the road that leads up Silver Star Mountain. “What happens if the place gets swarmed by zombies? What happens if people like those freaks with the red paint come to take it from us?” the woman questions, requesting answers that had yet to be demanded of them to come up with. “We’ll build fences. We’ll build walls and close off our place from outsiders” Lou replies without much thought, defaulting to the same answer that most would give the question. “Maybe we’ll find more people along the way. Maybe what we’ll build will be less of a small little camp we all live in and more of a town” he continues, speaking a much grander vision into existence for his protege to metaphorically chew on. “A town? You want to build a post-apocalyptic utopia, Lou?” Marta questions back with a smile, amused by the prophecy that her mentor presents him with. “Yeah, why not?” Lou retorts, slowing the speed at which they drive in order to more-cleanly navigate the slopes that they ascend, “it’s perfect. You’ll be able to start your family, and I’ll be able to figure out whatever the hell I’m meant to do there. Everyone else can live the dream they’d always imagined before shit fell apart.” “I see, I see. The grand vision of the almighty silver slayer is to craft a new society, from what it appears” Marta jokes, sharing a laugh with the man that her attention soon falls solely upon, a slight squint carried in her eyes, “so, what will you call this immaculate utopia, Lou?” Still wearing the smile that his protege’s presence had brought upon his face, the driver lets the muscles in his face ease as he focused on the pathway they’d yet to finish travelling, losing himself in thought. For a moment, Lou lets his eyes take toward the lodge that draws closer and closer with each metre they journey through, inspecting the variety of colours in their differently-painted composition as he considers the inquiry. “Well... There was this one place in Greece that I remember learning about back in history class” the driver responds, turning the final corner that separates them from the condo the rest of their group resides in, “I don’t know why, but the name just stuck with-” “Watch out!” Marta exclaims, holding onto whatever aspects of the car her limbs already attach to as a pair of headlights shoot toward their direction, rapidly closing in the distance between themselves and the Wrangler. Acting on instinct, Lou slams his foot against the brake pad and turns the steering wheel as far to the right as his limb’s limitations will allow him, sparking his protege from bearing the brunt of whatever collision appears to be inevitable. Having thought to do the same, the driver of the vehicle that hurries forward violently crashes into the back half of the returning Wrangler, violently jolting both Lou and Marta in their seats, the sharp right that the driver had taken now turned into a tailspin in the opposite direction. With a horrifying screech, the cars pull apart as quickly as they had made contact, the rubber of their tires grinding against the parking lot’s surprisingly clean surface for as long as the rides drag on. Coming to a rest, Marta lowers her guard as quickly as she’d naturally raised it, her brace lessening once the Wrangler comes to a complete stop. “Get them! Get them! Fucking get them!” Terry exclaims, running after Jules whilst Sonya and Jenn follow their lead, gradually joined by the members of their camp that hurry into the front lot. “Are you okay!?” Marta hurriedly asks, hearing her mentor’s groans and taking the wincing that his visage locks into as a suggestion otherwise. “Back up! Back the fuck up!” Dawn proclaims, aiming her pistol through the shattered window of the driver’s side door, preventing Jules from continuing to chase after them with the threat she wields. “I’m fine” Lou groans, letting his hand fall from the steering wheel and take toward his neck, the muscles within it having been pulled by the aggressive jolt their ride had been forced to spin with. “Are you fucking crazy!?” Jules howls, lifting his hands in surrender as Dawn attempts to press her foot against the gas pedal, failing to receive a response from the stalled hatchback she’d attempted to steal. “Back the fuck up!” the thief exclaims once more, prompting Terry to lift his hands in a display of peace just as Jules had, hissing as quietly as he can toward the woman who’d attempted to tail them, trying to keep them from making their presence noticed. Retreating on the command of those who stand within range of Dawn’s firearm, Jenn and Sonya caution Sebastian and Courtney, who had followed their lead, to stay back. Grimacing, Lou surrenders to the comfort of Marta’s hands, which pull him closer toward the passenger’s seat and hold him as far down as can be managed, wanting to ensure they have as much protection and cover from the woman with the weapon. “I think Dawn’s trying to steal the hatchback” the young woman whispers, trying to keep their presence as unassuming as possible to avoid being targeted with the pistol as sitting ducks. Forced to stand at gunpoint, the pair of black men worriedly look toward the mangled Wrangler and the drivers that huddle together within, not having heard a peep from the pair. “Marta, or Lou, or both, are hurt” the leader of the American side of the group mutters, keeping his voice low enough for only his friend to hear. “I know. They’d be stepping in if something wasn’t wrong” Jules assures, watching Dawn climb through the shattered window with continued aim of her gun. “Jenn and Sonya pulled back. It’s just us out here, bro” Terry whispers again, receiving a nod from the man that stands before him, the conclusion one that he’d already come to just as others had been prior. “Alright, then. It’s ironic that we’re alone out here, but I guess that’s also fitting” Jules humours, shrugging back to the man as Dawn’s feet collide with the ground, her stance corrected. Passing a glance toward the vehicle she’d struck amidst her attempt at fleeing, Dawn notices the pain that appears to be worn on the one-armed driver’s face, the arms that he resides within belonging to a young woman that Lou purposefully positions himself in front of. Considering the pair to be a threat that is neutralised well enough for the moment, the thief sets her attention upon the men that she holds at gunpoint, their displeased expression holding firmly upon her as she issues a warning. “Don’t move” Dawn grumbles, pressing her hand against the hatchback’s mangled exterior, supporting herself as she attempts to regain her balance and formulate whatever fall-back plan she’d not initially felt would be necessary. == RISE and REVOLT == “This isn’t right, Lou” Ally utters, standing beside the man that she speaks to as he laces up his winter boots. “If you’d like to go out and find yourself a corpse wandering in the woods, be my guest” the man answers, parting his pinky finger and thumb as far as he can manage to deepen the knot as best he can, “I’ll warn you ahead of time, though. If you find one, they’re probably one of the people that left this place last night and didn’t make it very far.”
“I really don’t appreciate how dismissive you’re being about this” the woman rebuttals, watching as her boyfriend throws the strap of his prosthetic over his head, letting it hang halfway up his back. “What do you want me to tell you, Ally? We’ve got to do whatever we can to survive and we’re not always gonna like that” Lou retorts, stepping up from his place atop the air mattress they’d hooked up on just one night prior, fixing the ever-expanding locks of hair that fall over his shoulders. “That doesn’t mean we should be cutting Val’s body open and slathering him all over some coats” Ally counters, a comment that her boyfriend only sighs at in the seconds that follow it being voiced. “It’s like I said, Ally. We’ve got to do whatever we can to survive and we’re not always gonna like that” Lou repeats, reclaiming his rebar staff as he turns to look at her face-to-face, “you’ve already lost way more than half of your camp. Are you really interested in losing more?” “If this were one of your friends, you’d be hell-bent on not stepping foot away from this camp until they were buried” Ally rebukes, countering the man’s point with one of her own. Being met with nothing more than a silent stare, the woman locks eyes with her boyfriend and refuses to budge from the stance that she’d taken, not being dissuaded from her position through his stoic demeanour. “Don’t tell me that I’m wrong. You would’ve buried Fink if you could. You would’ve buried Vinny, and Wyatt, Halston, Theo, and Lee and everyone else if you could’ve” she doubles down, again staring into a face that meets her with total silence. “If it were any of the people you met when we were apart, you’d still go out of your way to give them a proper burial” Ally continues, refusing to bend the knee to believing anything else, “you’re a good person who can see that this is wrong.” “I see that this is necessary” Lou wastes no time in responding, allowing his girlfriend to finish speaking before interjecting with his own thoughts. “I see that we’re about to hike a mountain for a whole damn day without more than a few protein bars and some water. I see that we’ll be fucked if we don’t make it all the way up there before the sun sets” he continues to assure, “and I see no reason to have to worry about the zombies along the way if we can do something about it.” Taking her turn to stare at the man in silence, Ally’s irritation is kept at bay as their eyes remain glued upon each other through the long, quiet interaction. “I’m sorry that your friends are dead, and I’m sorry we’re not giving them a proper burial. Aside from that, I don’t know what you want me to do” Lou doubles down, pulling his locks of hair free from the prosthetic case’s strap that holds it down, “he’s already been cut open and I don’t have a time machine. What’s done is done.” “Tell me that you understand then” Ally quickly counters, letting her eyes fall toward the man’s chest before lifting back to his face, her expression still carrying the obvious look of displeasure, “tell me that you understand why I’d be so against this.” With the slightest furrow in his eyebrows, Lou keeps his stare held toward the woman’s own before looking off to the side for a second, considering the words he’d use to respond. “He’s your friend. I don’t have to have liked him or known him in order to see that, Ally” Lou replies, nodding to his girlfriend before turning his body toward the tent’s vestibule, “of course I understand.” Watched on by the woman his discourse had been spent with, the one-armed soldier marches through the nylon flaps and across the snow-covered field, the sun that begins to ascend within the sky providing just enough light from behind the clouds it’d been hidden behind. “This is fucking appalling” Dawn murmurs, standing beside Christina with her arms crossed, purposefully speaking loud enough for the passing stalwart to overhear. Going without a reply, the women continue to stare at Lou, who pays them no mind as he continues walking, dismissing their comments as he closes in on the members of his group that surround the body they mutilate. “Are we almost ready?” the lone wanderer instead queries, calling out to those that lather one makeshift poncho after another in the remains of the community’s former leader. “Just about” Courtney replies, holding her breath for as long as she can whilst wincing at the sight of the deceased man’s innards falling like slop from the clothing’s material, “you sure your girlfriend and her holier-than-thou buddies are good as they are?” “They’ve got a problem with all of this. They’re gonna abstain from dawning their big guy’s guts on their shoulders” Lou replies, aiming the tip of his weapon toward the maimed corpse laying on the ground. “I can’t say I blame them” a foul-smelling Sebastian responds, kneeling before the cadaver he’s spent the last hour or so digging his hands into, “I know it’s necessary, but... goddamn.” “We all have to do what we have to do” Marta interrupts, dawning a plastic cover over her faux leather jacket, her hair tied into a bun so as to keep it from contacting the viscera. “I’m not a fan of smelling like shit either, but here we are...” she doubles down, extending a cotton blanket that she’d personally turned into a gorecoat toward her mentor, “...not being given much of a choice.” With a frown and flared nostrils, Lou gingerly takes the piece of material from his protege and begrudgingly puts it on, having always hated the stench, but having gone long enough over the past few days without smelling it to react just as he had the first time he’d dawned guts. “I know the rest of you aren’t pleased with this, but I’m still asking...” Jules speaks up, wearing a denim jacket stained with the blood of Val’s body as he turns toward the man’s subordinates, “...you coming?” “We don’t have much of a choice, do we? We either hike back up the mountain with you or stay here and wait to die” Christina replies, meeting the man with a visual displeasure. “Well, you’d rather worry about the dead than wear your friend’s guts on your clothes...” Jules retorts, shrugging as he meets those on the opposite side of his moral ground with sarcasm, “...forgive me for not putting it past y’all to choose waiting here and dying instead.” “Shut up, Jules. We’re going with you” Ally responds calmly, the hostile vigour in her voice made clear to her former classmate, who curls his lip and silently turns away. “I’m not gonna put up with this annoying-ass bullshit. We’re either gonna get the fuck along, or we’re gonna have some problems” Terry interrupts, taking a stance at the front of the newly-unified group as Sebastian finally finishes off the final gorecoat. “The people that are gone are not coming back. The people that are dead better fucking not come back. And the people that are still here and alive better stay that way” the American leader doubles down, refusing any room for an alternative, “whoever has a problem with getting along is gonna stay here and wait to meet their maker. So, I better not hear one-fucking-person bitch and moan from this point on if you’re coming with. Everyone got it?” “Let’s quit talking about this shit and just get moving, alright?” Christina interjects, the first to turn her attention toward the mountain they’ve yet to climb whilst gesturing toward the sun’s direction, “we’re burning daylight as it is. Let’s go.” Being met with a few conceding nods of agreement and shrugs from those they’d barely known for longer than a cup of coffee, the community’s member watches on as their staff-wielding frontman leads the charge, the first to embark upon the journey. Leading by example, Lou begins the march that leaves his footprints in the crunchy snow that scatters the ground, followed on by the final residents of the compound that bid it adieu in favour of what’s hoped to be literal greener pastures. One by one and in quick succession, the Canadians, Americans, and Val’s descendants break from the places in which they’d waited in various different bundles of clothing, taking advantage of the early-morning sunrise to leave their woodland home behind. = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = “Urgh!” Sebastian exclaims, thrusting his elbow through the driver’s windshield of a sedan and triggering its alarm, an issue the gorecoat his still-bloody hands had crafted leave him little concern with. “This is the most dignified breaking and entering attempt I have ever seen” Courtney remarks, earning a slight chuckle from the man whose sleeve-covered and glass-coated arm now reaches through the newly-created opening. “I was a bit of a rebel in my younger days” the man sarcastically replies, not much older than the woman who accompanies him, “I was a jaywalking fiend that shouldn’t have been trifled with.” As he makes his amusing comment, Sebastian’s thumb presses against a button beside the steering wheel that prompts the hood to pop upward, his attention set upon the various aspects of the vehicle now left for his disposal. “Yes, you carry all the intimidation of a middle aged maths teacher. Trifled with? You shall not be” Courtney quips, watching as the man smirks whilst reaching forward, disconnecting the battery and silencing the car that had screamed at him for all to hear. “Those mounties should count themselves lucky that they could never catch me” Sebastian replies with a purposeful lack of confidence, his chin lowering, “they’d never have known what they were up against.” “Yes, you were such a bad boy” the man’s girlfriend reassures, walking into the man’s warm embrace before pressing her lips into his own, sharing a kiss that ends with her head resting against his chest. “It’s a blessing and a curse” Sebastian replies, playing around with the humour at his own extent as the brief exchange of pleasantries comes to an end, set elsewhere in favour of spending the time that they have together. “You’re just a blessing in general, Seb’” Courtney responds, fully letting the shared laughter at her boyfriend’s expense subside, allowing the weight of their interaction to settle in. Having freed their arms from the gorecoats that their noses have grown accustomed to the stench of, the pair of lovers in a world filled with such lovelessness and cruelty stand in silence as one, taken into each other’s grasp as they spend a few seconds within the silent embrace of each other. “I’d say the same about you, Court’” the man whispers, resting his chin against the top of the woman’s head before watching a few figures advance toward their temporary residence in the distance. “Alright, we’re ahead of schedule. For everyone’s sake, we should probably take advantage of that” Sebastian remarks, kissing his girlfriend on the forehead before returning toward the vehicle they’d intended to search. | “Alright, this is the last one. The building’s completely clear” Jenn remarks, stepping out of the bathroom of the condo they’d entered with a metal pipe in hand. Looking around the mostly empty and seemingly never-occupied residential space, the increasingly dark-haired survivor searches for the woman she’d walked in alongside before finding her figure on the patio in the back of the room. “Did you hear me?” the woman wonders aloud, calling out to the as-of-yet unresponsive survivor that had joined her, a sour expression worn and an eye roll paid back. “All clear, got it. Thanks for letting me know” Dawn responds, holding a bitter and unpleasant tone in the voice she uses to address the American, one that’s not only noticed, but laughed off at first. “What kind of stick do you and your little friends have up your asses?” Jenn inquires, watching as the other woman’s face glides toward the right, veering away with what the newly-brunette woman can only assume is another eye roll. “Alright, we cut your friend up so we wouldn’t have to worry about the dead. We’re guilty as charged” the young adult questions aloud, watching as a distasteful stare is paid to her by the stalwart that gradually spins around to face her. “Can you stand there and tell me you haven’t done things you weren’t proud of just to stay alive?” the American-born holdover of a now-deceased era questions, at first receiving just a subtle shake of the head. “You wouldn’t have cut him open if he was your friend” Dawn retaliates, a gesture that immediately prompts the woman opposite her to hang her head, “you may not have known him, but we did. We knew him, we liked him, we cared about him.” “Ma’am, you say that as if we stuck a knife in his heart and started slathering ourselves in his insides while he was still alive” Jenn responds, lifting an unbothered eyebrow in the survivor’s direction. “By that same logic, your friend was the one responsible for eating the tall guy and not the zombie he’d turned into” the American continues, watching the disturbed, yet well-restrained visage continue to grow more sour at the words she speaks. “None of that matters, though. Terry made himself very clear back at the camp. What’s done is done, we’re all on the same side now, and it’s time to move on” the woman that Lou had once requested lead the American group in the event that he couldn’t explains, picking up a knapsack she throws over her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s let the others know this place is cleaned out” Jenn concludes, turning her back toward the survivor in an attempt to leave, “maybe they’ll have found some food to m-” “You’re the gay one, right? The one who lost her girlfriend after your boat went down, right?” Dawn interrupts, her question prompting Jenn to freeze in place, her eyelids narrowing the second it’s asked aloud. “What if it was her body that my friends and I were covering ourselves in? Would it be so easy to write off then?” the survivor questions further, seeing no change in the younger woman’s demeanour, “would you accept the excuses, or would you want to give her a proper burial?” Her face wearing an anger that cannot be seen by the soul who begs the question that produces it, Jenn stands in a silence strong enough to bring an audible quiet over the room they share. Grasping the cylindrical weapon she’d entered the room carrying with every last ounce of her might, the American wanderer forces herself to release the tension in her fingers as the weapon remains at her side, the muscles in her arm having wanted to join her legs in taking toward the opposite woman. Barely directing her chin toward the opposite woman’s direction, the departure-prepared survivor glances over her shoulder to find a placid and undaunted opposition awaiting the answer to her inquiry. “Yes... it would” Jenn lies, convincing herself to wear a smile that fails to appear as persuasive as she’d like it to be. “Feel free to rewind time and bring her back to the dead to prove me wrong” the brunette retorts, aware that her claim cannot be fought any better than it is to be defended. “Before you go, however, I’m just going to issue you this warning one time” she proceeds, turning her body the rest of the way toward the opened patio doors before lifting her pipe toward Dawn’s direction. “There are a million ways to get away with murder in this world and even more places to hide a body. There are no consequences for it and nothing to dissuade any of us from committing it...” Jenn concludes with a sadistic grin, “...keep that in mind the next time you bring Halston up.” Leaving her comment off in the same breath that she uses to follow through on her departure, Jenn marches for the front door that she leaves open after stepping through it. Left behind with only the remarks to keep her mind occupied, Dawn stares at the parted entrance before looking at the ground, sitting with the declaration that had been made without much in the way of motivation to dwell on it. | “It’s a shame you were never much of a skier” Adrian remarks, walking around the living room of a cottage whose tenants likely hadn’t been present for months leading up to the dead rising. “Why? It’s not like we would’ve come up here any more often then we did for a Canucks game” Marta replies, taking advantage of her father being the person she’d assigned herself to travel alongside by occupying a seat on a plastic tarp-covered chesterfield and kicking her feet upon the nearby coffee table. “Sure we would have” her father corrects, doing so with a chipper attitude in his voice, one that accompanies him toward the window that overlooks the mountain’s southern-facing slope. “I used to be in the ski club when I was in high school. We’d travel out here every month during the winter season” Adrian mutters, watching as his daughter stretches her arms out along the sofa’s supports, “if you’d been into it when you were younger, I’d have been more inclined to come out here myself.” Rolling her eyes as she leans back in her seat, Marta allows the man to retain whatever beliefs he chooses to whilst the man peers out from the home. “With all these cars that Sebastian’s setting off, I sure hope he finds a few with some goddamn gas in them” Adrian mutters, peering past the curtain that had obstructed his view of the parking lot-bound couple whilst overhearing his daughter’s chuckle in the background. “As long as I don’t have to drive, I don’t care how many cars he wrangles up or how much gas is in them” Marta replies, crossing her right foot over her left as it sways from one side to the other. “Why? You don’t like driving?” Adrian queries back, watching the woman’s aghast reaction take back to him. “You think I want to be the one behind that goddamn wheel from here until Calgary!? No-fucking-thank you!” she proclaims, sharing a further laugh with the man who hangs his head with a smile. “Strap a fan to my back and have me fly from an island to Vancouver? I’m fine with that...” Marta doubles down, reassuring her father of the stance she’s hell-bent on maintaining, “...but bore me to death with a twelve hour, or however long it takes, drive!? You can fuck right the hell off!” “You’d get behind the wheel if Lou asked you to” Adrian corrects, a conclusion he reaches that his daughter doesn’t argue against. “Okay, yeah. If Lou wanted me to drive, I’d bite my tongue and do it” Marta responds, lifting a finger amidst the pause to make clear the fact that her point has yet to conclude, “but knowing Lou, he’d prefer to be the one behind the wheel if he had the choice. So, as far as Lou asking me to drive goes, I’m pretty sure I’ve got nothing to worry about.” “You’re probably right. I’m just poking fun at you” Adrian concedes, a gesture his daughter had already come to, but doesn’t react accordingly with. Retaining her playful and unseriousness demeanour, Marta reaches beneath the plastic wrapping and retrieves a pillow that she hoists in the man’s direction, the ease in which he casually moves to the side in an effort to evade the projectile prompting his offspring to roll her eyes. “How’ve the two of you been, by the way?” Adrian queries, allowing the light-hearted banter to settle as he moves the various knick-knacks that had littered the coffee table’s surface in an effort to free himself a space to sit. “We’ve been fine” Marta answers, shrugging at the question whilst her father lowers himself onto the hardwood furniture, “why?” “You know why” Adrian responds without taking long to answer, coupling his hands together atop his left thigh, forced to sit at an angle that forces him to look over the same-side’s shoulder to face his daughter. “We’ve only been around the others for a few days, but it’s felt like a lot longer than that since I’ve seen you and Lou in the same room” the man continues, speaking his mind in a polite way that leaves his offspring little reason to enact a defence against the claim. “I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew what would happen if he ever did find Ally” Marta replies, looking toward her lap as she addresses her single parent’s concerns, a puckering of her lips accompanying the gentle sway of her head. “Besides, it’s not like he would’ve felt the same way about me if he’d never found her. He’d have gone to his grave assuming she was still out there somewhere” the young woman reassures, forcing herself to smile, “...and she was.” “You didn’t actually expect us to find her, did you?” Adrian wonders aloud, asking the question with a raised eyebrow and smug grin as if the answer were truthfully less straight-forward than his daughter makes it out to be. “As a matter of fact... I did. I know it’s easy to say that with the benefit of hindsight, but I’d known it the second I found his friends at the hotel” Marta reassures, the confidence in her visage surprising her father, who her words genuinely convince. “He’d found everyone else. He’d found them at different times, in different places, and for different reasons. I don’t think there’s any coincidence more ‘in your face’ than that is” she concludes, shaking her head with lifted eyebrows, “I knew it was only a matter of time before he found her too.” Though he believes the claim that his daughter makes, Adrian finds himself nonetheless taken aback by the honesty in which she provides. “As much as I wish he and I could feel similarly about each other, I don’t want to keep him from being happy. I’d rather he finally find her after all this time than live the rest of his days without closure” Marta confesses, shrugging as if the rationale she sports were just common practise, “I’m not gonna be the selfish bitch that puts my needs ahead of his.” Though still in pleasant spirits, the face on the young woman drops a slight amount to match the well-hidden disappointment such an action has left her with. Watched on by her father, Marta lets her eyes fall toward the ground as the back of her head slowly comes to a rest on the cushioned seat she sits against, following the various patterns of the well-designed carpet that stretches from one end of the living room to the other. “You’ve become a great kid, Marta” Adrian remarks, his voice catching his daughter’s ear enough to draw her eyes toward him, the stare she leaves him with being accompanied with a hush that allows him to continue speaking. “I'll always wish you could’ve grown up in the same kind of world that I did, but that will never change how happy I am to see the young woman you’ve become” the man concludes, putting a smile on the girl’s face, “I’m so damn proud of you.” Through the slight part in her lips, Marta’s white teeth become visible through the room that’s lit by only the dying light of the day’s nearing end. Pulling her legs back and letting her feet drop to the floor, the young woman leans forward in her seat and wraps her arms around the man responsible for raising her in such a well-spoken way, resting her chin upon Adrian’s shoulder as he matches the gesture, receiving his offspring’s praise and appreciation whilst offering his own. | “I’m gonna be honest, Lou. It’s right about now that I’m starting to miss that old pain in the ass you brought along” Terry remarks, sliding his spatula out from beneath the burger patty he sets upon the bottom bun the friendly-faced, one-armed slayer extends toward him. “Since when the hell have you ever not liked burgers?” Lou questions back with a squint, grinning to the same man who playfully nods toward him. “Since I started being the one that had to make them” the man jokes back, receiving a quiet nod of approval to the man who pats him on the shoulder, sending him on his way with the cafeteria tray that his meal sits atop. With eyes setting upon the assortment of wooden tables that line the main floor of the proper ski lodge, Lou finds himself met with a scene that he takes a self-disappointment in for not having anticipated on his own. Without the command of the man who’d instead placed his focus upon making a dinner capable of human consumption, the divided group’s that Terry had demanded to play nice with each other do anything other than that in places that they occupy. At a table near the lodge’s main window, Ally sits with the stragglers from Val’s camp whilst purposefully averting her eyes, pretending to inspect the wider public area just beyond the building’s grounds for as long as her boyfriend remains standing. Taking up two full tables a few dozen metres across the room, the combined forces that he’d known gather with each other whilst staying intentionally reserved. Receiving scornful glares from those in Ally’s group aside from his girlfriend herself, Lou begins quietly approaching his larger collection of friends with a frown on his face, their expressions of displeasure reading as loudly as his do. “It’ll be a process. As long as they don’t end up dead in the next few hours, they’re not gonna have much of a choice but to play nice” Jules comments, moving aside for their friend to join. “We’re not missing anybody, are we?” Lou questions aloud, disregarding the optimistic outlook that his friend presents him with in favour of putting the conversation as a whole as far away from his focus as he can manage. “Terry’s finishing up with the cooking, Sebastian and Courtney are syphoning off gas outside, and I’ve got no idea what Jenn’s doing” Elsie replies, being stared at by the man she speaks to as she skewers a slice of her hamburger. “What the fuck are you doing?” Lou asks aloud with unusually wide eyes, watching as the blonde lady looks up to him for a moment before looking toward her peers, their confusion as clear to understand as hers is. “What?” she responds, watching as the man’s pupils take their dagger-like sights away from her face and toward the meal that she prepares to take a bite of. “Tell me that I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing” Lou rejoinders, again prompting the woman to look around for assistance in what’s being done wrong, “tell me you’re not eating a hamburger with a goddamn knife and fork, Elsie.” “Huh?” she proceeds to wonder, leaning her chin forward before inspecting her plate, overhearing a small raucous of laughter from either direction. “Holy shit, she is!” Jules laughs, covering his mouth to politely hide the bite that he’d yet to finish whilst Josie shakes her head in feigned disappointment and Adrian lifts his hand over his eyes. “What’s wrong with eating a burger with-?” Elsie wonders aloud, watching Lou’s face light up with amusement before switching the course of her rebuttal to a more comedically-defensive note, “you know what, leave me and my utensils alone! I don’t tell any of you how-” Kept from speaking any further, the woman’s attention travels just as that of the rest of her group’s does, their ears taking to the distant sound of a door slamming shut and a pair of boots loudly approaching from a lower level. Regardless of which end of the lobby they occupy, the divided groups sit in undisturbed silence as they stare toward the direction of a ramp, its incline being travelled by the blonde-brunette mix who needs nothing further than footsteps to make her presence known. Refusing to make a comment, light-hearted or otherwise, the unified group of Vancouverites watch on as one of those who had yet to join them rounds the corner, appearing in full with very obvious intent carried through her stroll. Bypassing her own group entirely, Jenn marches toward the opposite side of the lobby just as Terry departs the kitchen, having returned to the front counter for the pot of sauce he’d left for any and all to use just in the nick of time. “What’s going on?” Sonya whispers, not receiving an answer through the deafening silence before Lou steps away from the table, recognising the poise in which his friend walks to be one that he wishes to keep as contained as can be managed. The first to follow the lead of their friend, Jules, Marta, and Adrian climb out from their seats and lend support to the same man that Terry takes after as well, preparing for a conflict the moment he watches the one-armed stalwart rise. The first to step out from her seat on the recluse foursome, Dawn climbs to her feet the minute she sees the scowl that the foremost approaching woman wears, joined by both Darnell and Christina. Collectively unsure of what’s about to happen, the latter pair keep their guards raised whilst looking toward Ally, who remains the only one of her group confined to a chair, eyes colliding with the brunette that draws nearer. “I don’t care who you’re dating or how long we’ve known each other, Ally. Telling anyone about my business that doesn’t already know is not your place” Jenn proclaims, kept from continuing to march by Lou’s hand, which forcibly takes her by the arm and holds her back. “What are you talking about?” the seated member of the now-empty compound queries, having realised that she was the cause of the woman’s anger without understanding why. “You! You told this debbie-downer fuckface over here about Halston!” Jenn shouts back, grimacing in disgust at Dawn, who remains undisturbed and silent. “What does that have to do with anything?” Ally asks aloud, carrying the same calm and lost tone of voice that she’d initially opened the conversation with. “The fact that she threw it back in my face a few hours ago!” Jenn exclaims, pointing her finger at the woman who now shakes her head in refusal. “I told her to move past us using Val’s body for the coats and she had the balls to ask me if I would’ve done the same to Halston” the increasingly-brunette survivor proclaims, attempting to walk beyond Lou’s reach the second Dawn attempts to offer a rebuttal. “Stand the fuck down, Jenn! Don’t make me tell you a second time!” Lou shouts, yanking the woman back and stepping in front of her, speaking beyond his normally composed volume whilst much of the room aside from Dawn goes quiet. Nostrils flaring, Jenn concedes defeat and begins to simmer as Ally pulls her fellow member of the camp aside, trying to hash out their own conversation separate of those they’d seated themselves away from. “I’m fucking pissed, Lou...” Jenn whispers, forcing herself to keep her voice low as the man follows suit, trying his best to assure her that he’s on her side, “...if that little cunt with the permanent bitch face mentions Halston one more time, I swear... I’ll-” “You won’t do anything, Jenn...” Lou interjects, pointing his finger at the woman and pausing, her eyes speaking an intense anger at being told off, only for the emotions that hide behind them to change when the one-armed survivor finishes his thought, “...you won’t do anything. And the reason for that is because, if she ever speaks of Halston like that again, I’ll stab the little prick in the heart my goddamn self. Do you understand?” Silenced and vindicated, Jenn’s boiled-over anger subsides in the same moment that her friend pledges his allegiance to her, the reassurance that’s offered affording the issue to resolve within her mind on the spot. With a nod, the new brunette begins stepping back, conceding the ground that Lou had demanded she leave behind before turning away, walking in the same direction she’d entered. With one sight of the altercation subdued, the handicapped survivor’s eyes take toward his girlfriend’s direction, the other end of the conflict appearing to settle in the same moment. Frustrated and with a disgruntled shake of the head, Dawn marches for the building’s exit opposite the one Jenn heads toward, watched on for a few seconds by Ally, whose eyes eventually swing back toward her boyfriend’s. Without uttering a word to each other, the two survivors stare into the other’s eyes and allow their discontented postures to do the speaking on their behalf. The first to pull away, Ally sets her sights on the woman that she’d directed away, following after Dawn whilst Christina and Darnell follow shortly thereafter. “You good, man?” Terry wonders aloud, gently placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder with hopes that the answer is the one he hopes for. “Yeah...” Lou responds with a deep and noteworthy sigh, nodding as he turns back, watching as the cook of their collective dinner’s hand slides off of his person, the people he speaks to noticing the irritation that remains within his demeanour, “...I’m good.” == RISE and REVOLT == “Will it start a fire?” a concerned resident of the camp inquires, presenting their question to the sickly man who stands off to the side and on his own, his eyes sliding toward her direction and away from the billowing smoke. “I don’t k-” Val attempts to reply, shaking his head toward the denizen who asks, only to be interrupted by the further questioning from a man just beside her.
“What about the dead? How long will it be until the creepers that are headed toward that thing come for us?” he wonders aloud, watching as Val’s eyes meet his own, lips parting without offering a reply to accompany the continued shake of his head. “Screw the dead! I wanna know how long it’ll be until the people who kept shooting at each other start coming for us!” a second woman proclaims, her higher-pitched voice sparking a collective worry over those she stands beside. “I don’t know, I don’t-” Val murmurs, overwhelmed by the mass onslaught of the community’s residents that draw nearer, gradually stepping back so as to create distance between them and himself. “Where are we going to go!? It’s not safe here!” a third woman proclaims, catching the ears of the soul who’d sparked this line of questioning, who turns back from beside the outspoken gentleman to voice her agreement. “You’re right! We need to start moving!” she assures, gestured to step down from her hurry to flee from the illness-laden leader, who extends both hands toward her with the hopes that she’d calm. “We can’t stay out in the open like this! It’s not safe and we don’t have enough protection!” a second man from within the mass gathering proclaims, prompting Val to roll his eyes with grief, beginning to worry that the massive panic that’s captured the collective crowd is beyond control. “Everyone, just calm-” the man pleads, only to be kept from finishing as the people erupt into a momentary, yet effective, projection of refusal. “We’re not calming down, Val! We need to get out of here!” the first man shouts back, taking his place at the front of the frenzied mob as a responsibility to voice its shared decision. Turning the community away from their varied presentations of horror and onto a less-pleasant, yet, unified front, the man begins a wave of agreement. Watching from off to the side at the people that aren’t theirs to contain, Sebastian and the combined forces of both American and Canadian survivors watch on as the sickly leader struggles to gather his bearings. “Everyone, hold on for a second! This is not the time to gang up on Val, alright!?” Bruno proclaims, stepping up to his friend’s side as the man clearly struggles to process the verbal displeasure that battles with the effects of the flu he’s been afflicted with. “Do you want us to wait until there’s nowhere to go, Bruno!?” the first man reasonably questions aloud, backed by the populous’ collective agreement as they shout in his favour. Only able to reply with “no”, the large frame of Val’s aid is kept from speaking any further as the community’s leader stumbles backward, falling into the snow as he loses his balance beneath the weight of the intense resistance his people put up. Dropping to a knee to assist his friend, Bruno’s shifted focus and the curiously sick state that their leader resides in prompts the compound’s tenants to grow even louder in their dissatisfaction, allowed to continue doing so before assistance finally arrives. Having seen enough of the uncivil uproar for one evening, Sebastian grits his teeth and steps forward with balled fists, channelling the anger that projects his voice further than it otherwise would reach. “Everyone, shut your fucking mouths!” he howls, projecting his tone upon the sea of humanity that now finds a new figure to direct their disgruntlement toward. As capable as they know the man to be, the combined forces only having arrived at the camp days prior look on with surprise as the white-haired survivor takes the centre of attention, addressing those that don’t fall beneath his lead as if they did. “If you wanna walk out into the mouth of hell tonight, be my guest!” Sebastian barks, throwing his hand into the direction that the flames had ripped through the sky in, wearing a visage of pure impatience and irritation. “No one knows what the hell’s going on down there, but if you want to volunteer to put your life on the line and find out... Go ahead!” he continues, a still-rabid community setting their displeasure toward him. Wearing a disgusted face, the man who’d taken advantage of the ‘fight or flight’ reaction of the compound begins to step forward, his rage driven toward the unfamiliar Canadian with a tested temper. “You don’t get to tell us what to do!” the man exclaims, marching toward the unphased and unmoving man that now earns his full attention. Out of concern, Courtney begins stepping forward to approach her boyfriend, worried that the confrontation may turn physical. “Go back to your friends and stay the fuck out of our-!” the unnamed, anger-fueled survivor commands, throwing his palm in the direction of the onlooking group of North Americans before losing his balance beneath the obstruction that catches him by the ankle. Slamming into the compact snow before angrily turning onto his back in an effort of picking himself up, the bitter member of the community is forced to show his hands in surrender as a pointed tip holds itself between his eyes. “Threaten my friend again, and I’ll do the same thing to you that I did to those savages you’re so afraid of” Lou warns, standing with perfect posture as he looks into the eyes of the paranoid resident, his grasp on the rebar weapon allowing a perfect centring of its end toward the man’s face. “That’s... enough!” Val hurries to shout, trying to catch his breath as he’s helped to his feet, offering the slightest assistance from the beast of a man he relies on more than anyone else. “Stand down, Lou” Courtney assures, interlocking her fingers with Sebastian’s own whilst pulling him away, the service of both men in question to the outburst having been paid. “I’ve never forced anyone to stay here that didn’t want to!” Val bellows aloud, directing his sights toward the frenzied residents of the community whilst the silver slayer retreats, the shoulder of his shortened arm hosting the hand that Ally rests upon it. “If you want to leave... just leave” the man sighs defeatedly, shaking his head as it falls whilst watched on from anyone within earshot, the proposition raised bringing a hush over the community. Having sat up from the place in which Lou had held him at the point of his staff, the man who’d sparked this raucous reaction of hostility now sets his focus upon those he’d served as the voice of just seconds prior, their brief glances toward each other making the temptation levied clear. = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = “It’s on us. We shouldn’t have held out long enough for the sun to go down” Darnell remarks, refusing the dismissal of blame onto anyone other than themselves, “we thought we could get lucky and we didn’t. It happens.” Shining her flashlight upon the snow that appears softer than it lets on, Josie keeps her eyes as frozen upon the ground as the wintery mixture is, keeping to herself as the air grows colder. “We’re still coming back to camp without anything to show for it” Christina responds, shaking her head with displeasure as she leads the charge, planting within the ground footprints that the others try and fit their shoes into the shape of. “It won’t go over well, but we’ll handle it” Elsie reassures, continuing to play the optimist as her ears keep toward the conversation being had, her eyes, however, remaining elsewhere. “We’ve still caught enough over the last few days to hold ourselves over for tonight. We’ll just make sure our hunt tomorrow is more fruitful” Darnell doubles down, presenting a claim that brings more comfort over their pale skinned track-setter than she’d entered the discussion with. Finding the air to have gone silent as the words that were made to be shared have expended themselves, Elsie’s only focus now resides upon her friend, who she watches the journey of with a close eye. “How much longer do you think we’ll be in the camp for?” the blonde woman wonders aloud, not wanting to continue journeying through the forest in silence regardless of how close to their destination they’ve become. “For as long as it takes our groups to get along or be run off” Christina responds, gently laying her boot prints into the snow to ensure a graceful and well-balanced step, “knowing the luck we’ve been having, it’ll probably be the latter.” “I’d say it’s less luck that’ll run us off than it is the fireball that just went up a few hours ago” Darnell corrects, a proclamation that the woman ahead of him nods in agreement with. “Let’s pick up the pace then. We don’t wanna walk in there and find the place overrun” Josie declares, finally adding something to the conversation for the first time in multiple kilometres. | “Are you sure you’re alright with this, boss?” Bruno wonders aloud, standing beside his seated, hunched-forward friend as the members of their community begin to walk off, one after another disappearing into the forest with hopes that their chances of survival elsewhere will be better. “I’m not keeping... anyone here... that doesn’t want... to be here” Val doubles down, his health having clearly seen better days than the ones he currently fights through his ailment in. “I get that boss, but...” Bruno reiterates, watching as countless residents stack warm layers of clothing upon themselves and pack bags with whatever belongings they’re willing to travel, “...they’re all leaving.” Doing his best to fight for each breath that grows harder to come by, Val pulls himself upward in order to lock eyes with the tall reinforcement he’s counted on since their initial meeting, shaking his head with lips pressed together. “That’s their call” the man responds, his voice sounding weak and the energy that he replies with appearing frail. “They’re still your people. We’ve known most of them since we crossed the border. We’ve fought wars together, and now...” Bruno proceeds, looking toward the community’s leader with a questioning glare, “...you’re just watching them leave?” Pulling breaths between his clenched teeth, Val looks toward the puffy accumulation of snow that scatters their makeshift campground, able to make out its slightly-blue tint through the moonlight that shines upon it from overhead. “I’d rather watch them leave... then watch them die” the man confesses, making a claim that prompts Bruno to look away, staring into the woodlands that most of his peers continue journeying into. “That’s all that’s happened. They just... keep... dying” Val sighs, struggling with his fight of sparing those he cares for from certain death to such an extent that he gives up entirely. “The border... the towns... the artists... we just keep... dying...” the man confesses, closing his eyes as he leans back, pressing his head against the uncomfortable restraint of the seat that he’s been forced to take refuge in, “for once... I’d just like us... to sleep... in peace...” His words failing to get anywhere with his friend, Bruno looks on with sorrow at the man who tilts his head back in an attempt at falling into a soft and soothing slumber, choosing not to fight him any further than he has. With a frown, the giant of a survivor takes a seat within the compact snow and crosses his large legs, coming down to the resting level of his compound’s leader whilst waiting into the night for whatever change is bound for them to occur. | “I’m gonna go get some things in order. Make sure we have everything we need in case we have to make a move fast” Ally remarks, taking her boyfriend’s chin within his hands before pressing a kiss to the side of his face. “I’ll go see what I can get out of Sebastian and the others. Maybe there’s a plan in the works we haven’t gotten to touch on” Lou responds, offering his girlfriend a quick embrace as they pull away, rubbing her lower back as they part ways, “I won’t be too far.” “You’ll know where to find me” Ally replies, stepping away from the well-travelled stalwart before making toward her tent, preparing for the time to leave that she knows is just over the horizon. Left to his own vices, Lou hangs his head for a moment as his eyes take toward his friends’ side of the camp. With a slight liveliness in his face, the energy that his visage had presented falls in one, single moment once his stare collides with the woman he’d entered a quiet interaction with earlier. Suddenly wrought with the same look of guilt that had taken shape hours prior, Lou begins a slow and arduous march toward his protege, incapable of expecting a sudden eruption to save him from having to face this conversation head-on. “Hey, buddy” Marta comments, beginning the process of tearing down the tent that she and her father had occupied since arriving at camp whilst the older man pays a visit to the same people her mentor had intended to reach. “Hi” he replies with an obvious lack of comfort, drawing closer to the woman that wears a small knapsack over her shoulder, “do you need, uh...?” Unable to finish his question, Lou watches his protege’s head turn toward him and flash a smile, appreciating the offer whilst shaking her head. “I’ve got this. Thanks, though” Marta responds, quickly returning her eyes toward the task at hand, dismantling the structure with care and caution. As uncomfortable as he is, the silence that falls over the pair brings a need over Lou to fill it, though he struggles to come up with something of value to offer in doing so. “Your heart belongs to Ally, not me... remember?” Marta questions instead, locking eyes with the man for a moment whilst shedding the nylon coverage held up by posts and hooks. “I don’t have to like it ‘cause that doesn’t matter. You’re not inclined to love me back, and you’re not inclined to walk on eggshells just to keep me from being upset” she continues, stating a case that doesn’t please the man anymore than it pleases her. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Marta” Lou restates, a conclusion he’s both offered before and one that remains as true as when it was once spoken. “I don’t want to have this conversation, Lou. What’s done is done, what’s been said has been said, and what will be is what will be” Marta rejoinders, shaking her head as she remains hard at work whilst holding up her end of the discussion. “Instead of constantly bringing it up, let’s just agree to pretend like I’m not a slave to my heart and go back to being friends” the woman explains, reaching a conclusion she can only hope to find common ground in. Looking on with disappointment, Lou feels that same guilt within him that he’d suffered with the prior night, its momentary dismissal for the first minute or so of their conversation now proving to have been just a temporary lapse. “I can’t expect you to be okay with that, Marta” the man concedes, watching as a smile lights up her face, another dismissive sway of her head from one side to the other being given. “Goddamnit, Lou. Can’t you just give me this one thing?” Marta bites back, speaking with more composure than her question would suggest, stopping the man’s comments in their tracks. “I’ve already told you this before. I can’t lose what we have” the woman explains, pulling free an entire side of the bivouac that she allows to freely fall to the ground, “things may be weird between us now, but we’ll get past all of that eventually. When we do, let’s, please, go back to how things used to be?” Opening his mouth to speak, Lou finds himself failing to convince himself that the retort he’d wanted to make is worth uttering, instead leaving him in a fleeting, statue-esque stand still. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he finally wonders aloud, watching the woman let free a sigh of relief as she approaches the remaining half of her temporary residence, wearing a prideful grin that gives her mentor the slightest amount of solace. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes... one million times yes” Marta says with a pleased face, extending the fist she balls her fingers into, “all I want is for us to be okay. Ally, or no Ally. Our group, or no group. I just want you and I to be okay.” Relaxing in the place that he stands, Lou settles with the woman’s claims and takes them at the value she wishes for them to be received, his hand gently guiding her hand down before walking up to hug her. Going along with the embrace, Marta lifts her chin onto the man’s shoulder before patting him on the back. “Alright, bud. You’ve got no more excuses now. Pretty much everyone on Ally’s side of the camp is gone” the woman concedes, delicately pushing the man toward their group’s remnants, “when Elsie and Josie get back, it’ll only be so long before daylight hits. When that comes, I’m pretty sure we’ll be heading out for the road. Now go figure out where we’ll be laying our roots down.” “Okay, okay! I will! Geez!” the man amusedly replies, sharing a laugh that, for the first time since they’d encountered those they share the camp with, feels normal to have with each other. Shining her pearly whites, Marta turns away from the one-armed figure before putting her sights on the opposite side of the bivouac, listening as her friend’s footsteps grow further away. Watching as her breath fogs the air ahead of her, the young woman’s face loses the light that it had presented just seconds prior as it begins to descend back into the glum state it’s occupied for the prior few days. Losing her smile as the act she’d put up falls, Marta’s eyes become sad and her mouth forms a slight frown, one that speaks volumes to how she truly feels as opposed to what she wishes her friend to see. | “What the fuck is this thing?” Jules queries, approaching the jacketed survivor that kneels before a discarded metal bin, the toolbox she digs through taking more of her attention than the question asked of her. “Huh?” Sonya wonders aloud, looking back as she scavenges whatever she can from the loot left behind by those who’d decided to try their fortunes elsewhere within the Canadian landscape. “This stick you’ve built here” Jules replies, picking up the weapon that had been crafted by the medical student’s hand, taking notice of the sharpened tip before anything else. “You just answered your own question... It’s a stick” Sonya replies, turning her back to the friendly American in an effort of resuming her inspection of the tin’s contents. “It’s not just a stick anymore, is it?” Jules responds, gently swaying the device from one side to the other, hearing the various objects within the box his fellow survivor rummages through as they clash together. “I sharpened the tip into a spear” Sonya replies, quickly retrieving an almost-finished roll of electrical tape and pair of rusty screws, “then I started asking around to see if people had any shit they didn’t need. Someone gave me some nails, so I hammered them into it.” “And what’s the wire for?” Jules questions, baffled by the contraption that his friend had created for herself, aware of what it’s purpose is for, but not sure of why it’s fitted with so many different features. “When I don’t want to hold it. I asked Marta for the wire she copped off the woman over there and turned it into a strap” Sonya replies, fitting the small and seemingly innocuous objects she’d lifted from the abandoned belongings into a pocket on her own knapsack. “So, you’ve made a spear that you can use as a baseball bat with nails. And when you’re tired of holding it, you can throw it over your shoulder?” Jules queries, slowly rolling through the weapon’s features as if confused by them. “You told me to modify my stuff so it’s easier. Now I have a weapon that’ll save me time” the woman concludes, reclaiming the object from the man who’s more than pleased to part with it. “I can stab the dead, I can puncture them with nails, and I can carry shit without leaving this thing behind” Sonya concludes, giving the man a nod as she passes by, his wide-eyed expression presenting her with a surprise. “It may not be the most normal thing you’ve ever seen, but it’ll be efficient” she assures, carrying on with her look-through of the camp as Jules watches on, holding back an amused and bewildered chuckle from the humour she leaves him with. | Neatly folding a sweater that she stuffs into her bag, Ally prepares her belongings for whatever venture she’s bound to find herself in, her spirits having lowered from where they would normally rest. Though it had faced the fears of being discovered by adversaries that are nothing less than brutal, the community that she’d become part of now finds itself nearly non-existent, the compound that had hosted it now doing so simply with the expectation of being abandoned. “Ally!” Christina calls out, emerging with the others from their long journey through the burning daylight and thick of evening, seeking out the first familiar face she can find. “Guys! They’re back!” the woman proclaims, setting her bag to the side before walking for those that have returned, their empty hands the farthest thing from consideration in the moment. “What the hell happened to this place!? Where’d everybody go!?” Josie questions aloud, the next to wander through the treeline whilst Darnell and Elsie follow suit. “They’re gone” Marta answers from afar, the next-closest resident within the range in which they speak. “What do you mean ‘they’re gone’?” the lone male hiker rejoinders, finding the task of accurately deciphering the comment to be impossible, “where the hell did they go?” “The explosion spooked them off. They wanted to leave and Val let them” Ally answers, greeting what remains of the community’s members whilst Marta welcomes back the members of her own group. “Why did he let them go?” Josie quickly wonders aloud, keeping her voice low enough for only Elsie and the only Simard daughter to hear. “I’m not sure. He said he’d never forced them to stay so he wasn’t going to now” Marta answers, shaking her head at a loss of what else to say, “just Val, Bruno, and the woman over there- Dawn- decided to stay.” “We didn’t catch anything while we were out there. Is anyone going to care about that or can we just drop it?” Elsie inquires, taking over the lead of the discussion as Josie steps past, redirecting her sights toward the tent she knows her group to occupy. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be leaving this place when the sun rises. Unless we start going hungry in the next few hours, I don’t think anyone’s gonna give a shit” Marta replies, politely exchanging a nod to the blonde woman as she continues past. “Josie, wait up!” Elsie calls out, leaving Adrian’s daughter to continue readying herself to leave whilst catching up to the woman who journeys forward. Stepping out of their bivouac, Adrian and Courtney emerge from within whilst Jules and Sonya approach the returning group from opposite sides of the camp. “What the hell was that thing? We turned around and headed right back for camp once we heard the explosion” Josie remarks, addressing the men that exit to greet them. “We’re not sure. All we know is that there’d been people out in town shooting at each other for hours. Then we saw the explosion and the gunfire stopped” Courtney replies, taking the lead for the man who explains everything that followed. “The other campers got pissed and said we should leave. Val said they could leave if they wanted to, and so they did” Adrian explains, throwing on the coat he’d shed when entering the group’s tent, “that must’ve been an hour ago at this point.” “So, where do we go now?” Jules wonders aloud, beating Sonya to the group by a few mere seconds, wasting no time when within a reasonable distance to raise the question. “The others are still trying to figure that out. Most of the ideas we’ve got just lead us right to where the bombs went off” Courtney answers, her bottom lip quivering as the cold air takes its toll. “What about the ones that don’t?” Elsie queries, tucking her fingers into the back pockets of her dry, yet cold, denim jeans. “There’s only two really. Lou saw a ski lodge some ways up the mountain and figured we could shelter there for a bit. That’s probably our best of those choices” Adrian responds, looking past the newly-reunited hikers as his daughter draws closer. “What’s the other one?” Marta asks aloud, following the tracks that the tomahawk-wielding duo had left for her smaller feet to fit into. “Well, to put it mildly... A long shot” her father answers, briefly looking toward Sonya as the woman finally catches up, “Bruno mentioned something about a track a few hours walk west. He said it was the one the train service used to reach the prairie provinces.” “Can you Americanise that for us, please?” Elsie politely requests, drawing a light chuckle and side-eye from her closest friend of the bunch. “The prairie provinces are Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba. We’re in B.C, so the closest one to us is Alberta...” Courtney answers, her reply being granted the approving nod of the Simard daughter’s father, “...that’s where Mrs. Lou Jack’s family has their cabin in Calgary.” “So we’re settling on that? Calgary is where we’re putting all the chips on the table?” Josie reiterates, wanting assurance from those that look around toward each other, none of the souls that surround them willing to suggest anything else. “At this rate, I don’t think we know for certain that there’s anything still standing for us to get to other than Calgary” Adrian replies, seemingly providing the core group with the deciding point of their journey. “Our biggest issue has been trying to figure out how we’re gonna get there. If those tracks can take us through the mountains, they might be our best, and most straight-forward, shot” the man concludes, a point that fails to find disagreement from those in attendance. “It’ll take longer, though” Sonya murmurs, needing a few seconds before finding a fault with the plan laid out, only for her point to be interrupted by the foursome that close in from behind. “Have we decided on where we’re going next?” Ally wonders aloud, her hands swinging by her sides as Darnell and Christina follow, Dawn’s feet trailing not too far behind. “First thing’s first... We’re going to the ski lodge” Sebastian proclaims, matching the approach of what remains from their woodland community as he exits from the tent, followed after by whomever remains. “Lou brought up a good point. Now that most of the camp’s left, we won’t need as many cars. It’s a more viable option” the Canadian’s leader remarks, joined alongside Terry whilst the man he speaks of follows not too far behind. “We’re low on most things truth be told, but food is the most important one” Sebastian doubles down with a shrug, “he says the ski lodge looks less ransacked than most of the places in town. It’ll be worth checking it for food and a ride or two.” “What about gas?” Darnell wonders aloud, presenting those responsible for making the call with one of the issues they’re tasked with addressing. “We’ll syphon. We’ll stop whenever we find a car or a few dozen of them and take what we can get” Terry answers, a reply that the majority of the coupled-together survivors seem to be fine enough with, “what we’re hoping is that we can save some time along the way. If we’re lucky, we might be able to drive our cars along the tracks for a good bit.” “I’m assuming we’ll get out and start walking when we can’t?” Christina questions, receiving the assurance in her conclusion in the face of the man directly opposite Elsie. “Hopefully the tracks will be good enough to ride for the first few hundred kilometres” Sebastian explains, immediately taking his eyes toward the Americans that stand directly in front of them, “that would be the first half of the whole trip in American-measurements, you yankees.” “Sounds like a plan, you fuckin’ canuck” a humoured and purposefully straight-faced Josie replies, smugly grinning toward the Canadian leader as she steps past him. “Someone go tell our giant and his friend with the flu about the plan, please?” Terry greets, shrugging in the direction of the former community’s leaders, waiting for someone to pick up the mantle he cares not to. “You hear that, Val!? It’s the ski lodge and then Calga-!” Ally begins to blurt out, shouting aloud toward the light-skinned survivor as he pulls back, having hunched over the ground before violently whipping his head toward the direction of the call out. Falling silent, the brunette that makes up one of the few remaining survivors of the compound watches as her sickly friend spins around, taking notice of her voice before hurriedly lifting himself off the ground. “Yo, yo, yo!” Jules shouts, gradually making his way from one exclamation to the other as Val takes off sprinting toward them like a feral animal, growling like a beast that would naturally call the wilderness home. “Yo, what the fuck is this shit!?” he finishes, making his exclamation as Lou instinctively pulls away from the survivors that had flocked together, running toward Val with his rebar staff in tow. Hurrying to aid in their friend’s efforts, the majority of the camp’s remaining inhabitants brandish their respective weapons, ready to provide a clean up in the unlikely event that their one-armed stalwart can’t finish the job on his own. Looking into the glassy, milky eyes of the flu-ridden commander that sprints after him, Lou aims his pointed spear and plants his foot in the ground, throwing the weapon forward and driving it through the monster’s skull with a disgustingly squishing sound. Running at speeds too fast to be controlled, Lou’s efforts leave him to launch forward and drag along the ground, kicking up snow and mud as he slowly slides to a complete stop. Mortified by what they’ve seen, the few inhabitants of the camp who’d stayed behind whilst others had followed the silver slayer’s lead now take after the direction of the sudden awe. With widened eyes, Val’s corpse comes to a rest in a crumbled mess, thrown back by the force in which the rebar weapon had split through his skull’s fragmented bone. “Lou! Lou, you good!?” Jules proclaims, the first to make it toward his friend’s aid and hurry to help him up, dusting the man off of the wintery slush that has stained his clothing. “I’m good! I’m good!” the damp-clothed fighter responds, quickly assuring his friends of his enduring good health. With their warrior’s safety taken notice of, the running survivors turn their sights to the soul that he’d just disposed of, watching as Sebastian, the first to approach the body, presses his boot against Val’s head and rips the rebar staff from within. Wincing at the sound of crunching bone and spongy brain matter, the survivors that follow watch as the body falls limp upon the ground, presenting them with a face frozen in the moment it was killed. “How the fuck did this happen!?” Terry calls out, looking at the face of the hispanic survivor that sits atop an increasing pool of blood that stains the snow it rests upon. “Bruno!” Darnell calls out, hurrying past the scene of their leader’s body and toward the behemoth of a man that rests a few dozen metres away. “When the fuck did he turn!? How the fuck didn’t we know!?” Elsie exclaims, looking at Val’s corpse as it presents her with evidence beyond a doubt that he’d died and come back. “He’s dead!” Christina exclaims, watching as Darnell drops to his knees and begins violently shaking Bruno’s body, which resides in the same deceased state as their leader’s does. “Did no one notice or did someone just not decide to say anything!?” Dawn questions aloud, standing halfway between the two bodies that now leak blood onto the snow-covered, British Columbia soil, presenting suspicions without pointing fingers in any direction. “You saw all of us over there just a second ago... No one noticed” Sonya quickly rebuttals, offering a reply that prompts the woman who’d raised the question to look away, accepting of the claim that’s made. Catching up to his peers, Lou nods toward Sebastian as he reclaims his staff from the man, inspecting Val’s body for a moment before looking in the direction of Bruno’s, standing before the backdrop of the billowing smoke as it continues emanating from in town well into the night. == RISE and REVOLT == “Who’d you draw?” Lou wonders aloud, continuing to carry his rebar staff as paths cross with Elsie, whose hair has been removed from their braids and thoroughly washed, wearing the water that begins to freeze into ice within her individual strands. “Darnell and Christina, whoever the fuck they are” the blonde replies, crumbling up the slip of paper in her hand before tossing it into a nearby barrel fire, “what about you?”
“No one. Sebastian said I was gone long enough yesterday and Terry said he wasn’t letting me leave again” Lou replies, watching the woman in plaid roll her eyes and pat him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around, bud” Elsie concludes, the brief and friendly interaction ending as quickly as their paths had crossed, similar well wishes afforded to the woman who prepares to enter the forest with her intentions set on returning home with a feast. Carrying on with his morning, Lou travels another few metres in the direction of his tent before stopping in the middle of the snow-covered path of dirt, his eyes falling upon a woman with her arms hanging by each side, her face taking toward his own. Without uttering a word to the man she hadn’t seen since he stormed off nearly a day and a half prior, Ally stares at the man who reciprocates the same, attention-stolen reaction as she does, their minds fighting to put that evening behind them. “We’ve clearly seen a lot while we were apart. I know you don’t really trust Val yet and I should’ve respected that” Ally explains, dipping into the man’s tent as he holds the vestibule open for her just moments after their paths had crossed. “I didn’t walk off because you told Val, I walked off ‘cause it took me by surprise” Lou confesses, the curveball throwing his girlfriend’s assumptions for a loop. “I don’t really care what he knows or how much you trust him, I just didn’t expect you to be so open with him” the man continues, trying his best to clarify what he’d meant, “I don’t share the same comfort with your people that you do, and that’s not something I’m used to.” Standing for a moment without much of a reply to make, Ally keeps her eyes stowed upon those of her boyfriend before suddenly hanging her head, forced to shift the tendril of hair that falls over her face. “I’m not used to it either” she admits, a conclusion that the man had already come to, though can’t fully understand in the same way that his own discomfort is felt. “We’ve spent more time apart over the last few months than we have since we started high school” the woman continues, her breath clouding the air that stands between them, “the two of us might have changed a lot more since we got split up than we have anytime before.” “Well, it’s not like we had much of a choice. We both did up getting stuck on an island in an entirely different country with no way to know where the fuck we were” Lou comforts, not wanting his girlfriend to feel as though she’s alone in this belief. “I don’t know what you’ve been through since then anymore than you know what I have been” he doubles down, speaking to a truth they both understand, “but we’ve never let anything get between us before. That’s something that doesn’t need to change.” Instantly gratified, Ally wears a smile that leads her into the reach of her boyfriend’s arm, his hand coming to a rest on the woman’s hip. “Is that so?” she whispers seductively, resting her palms on the shoulder at either side of the man’s neck, leaning in to press her lips against his own before their bivouac’s nylon exterior is tapped against as audibly as the fabric will manage by an unknown set of cock-blocking knuckles. “We’re kind of in the middle of something. What do you want?” Lou wonders back, passing the question to the still-unknown figure on the vestibule’s opposite side. “Val says he wants to talk to you as soon as you get the chance” Bruno responds, addressing the man whilst looking in the direction of the leader’s tent across the camp, “he’s feeling under the weather and you’ve been gone for quite a while. I wouldn’t make him wait very long if I were you.” Eyes falling, Lou shakes his head with disappointment before being gestured to lift his chin, sights taking themselves toward the woman who guides them upward. “We can continue this, and a whole lot more, when you get back” Ally remarks, her warm breath colliding with the survivor’s face in a way satisfying enough to urge a smile across his visage, the man’s hand giving his girlfriend’s side a gentle squeeze before pulling away with the rest of his body. “Fucking hell, this sucks” Val murmurs as his tent’s entrance is opened, stepped through by the man who he’d requested to see. “Thanks for the blue balls, trigger fingers. What do you want?” Lou greets, still armed with the weapon the sickly gentleman had mistaken for a simple walking stick. “Do you really still need that thing?” the community’s leader queries with a squint, extending his arm toward the staff in his visitor’s hand. “I’m willing to trust that you won’t stab me with, or use in any way against me, this thing if I hand it to you” Lou proceeds, extending his sharpened-edge, taped-handle, balanced extension of building material to the defiantly-healthy shot caller opposite himself. “What is this thing?” Val wonders curiously, gently tapping the tip of his finger against the pointed edge before gradually lifting and lowering the weapon he’s been temporarily offered. “It’s a piece of rebar. I wrapped tape around it every few inches and sharpened the edge to a point. I like to think of it more as a bo staff than anything else” Lou replies, running his newly-freed fingers through the lengthy hair he wears. “It’s balanced and versatile. I can stabilise myself with it, hit things with it, stab things with it, tuck it under my arm, the whole nine yards” he continues, earning an impressed nod of approval from the figure who returns it to him. “It’s advantageous... nice” Val remarks, freeing his possession to take toward the bottle of liquid, daytime medicine for assistance in persevering past the bug he fights. “Well, you kinda need something you can work with when you don’t have both arms anymore” Lou shrugs, giving the weapon a brief spin before tucking it beneath his arm once more, “it serves its purpose and serves it well. Give me a rock and I’ll keep this thing in use for as long as I’m on the move.” “You pick it up along the way or have you had that thing since you were in the ‘States?” Val wonders, pouring himself a cap full of medicine as he presents the inquiry, trying to solidify ground worth building upon with the man he hadn’t had an easy introduction to. “I had one on the boat, but I lost it when we were trying to escape. I picked this thing up not long after I beached on Vancouver Island” the man answers, “I’ve been touching it up along the way, why?” “I’m just asking. If you and your friends are going to be around for a while, I might as well start trying to get to know you all” Val answers, downing the medication with a sour frown, “I don’t know if there’s anyone better to start with than you.” “So that’s why you called me here? To try and socialise?” Lou queries, only for the opposite man’s head to shake, refusing the conclusion as being that plain and simple. “Not necessarily. I don’t mind getting to know you and your friends, but there’s still more serious shit we need to all take into consideration” Val corrects, watching as his new contemporary leans his head to one side, quietly awaiting the man’s continued speech, “I’m tired of worrying about those artists finding us up here.” “Like I’ve said before, we can all leave” Lou responds, unwavering in the stance he’s decided to firmly set his feet within, “this place probably won’t even be very sustainable by the time the weather gets better.” “I’d like to hear what you’d suggest we do” Val reassures, allowing the man to present his point before explaining himself, not wishing to interrupt, “from what Sebastian, Terry, and Jules have told me, you were the one that presented them with the Calgary option when no one else would.” “I was trying to find Ally. Calgary was a shot in the dark that got very lucky” Lou retorts, his claim immediately falling upon dismissive ears uninterested in devotions of luck. “What’s important isn’t the place you suggested or the reason, it’s that you made the suggestions. Others couldn’t when you could” Val responds, extending his arm in the direction of what remains of his community, “most of the people in our group would be lost without Bruno or I calling the shots.” “What’s your point?” Lou responds, clearly remaining just as uninterested in unnecessary back-and-forth as he was nights prior, crossing his arm-and-a-half. “My point is that your friends trust you, kid. They went along with what you proposed even if it was just out of the hope that you would find Ally. You made a call when it was needed, and that’s got to count for something” Val quickly restates, placing credit where it’s due. “I don’t know why a bunch of grown adults and high school teenagers put so much faith in you, but I’m willing to try and figure that out” the community’s ill-health leader doubles down, leaning against a table stocked with ammunition, “I’m asking what you’d suggest we do. Lay it on me.” Becoming the centre of Val’s attention, Lou stands in the open for a brief moment without reacting, his eyes eventually taking to the sides of the camp as he processes what’s been asked of him. “First thing’s first, I wouldn’t stay out here much longer. The weather’s getting too rough, and it’s snowed more times over the past two days or so than I’ve seen for weeks” the young man replies, running down the bullet list he’s formed internally. “This camp’s already on bad terrain, and it just gets worse the more snow that piles on top of it” he continues, speaking to a leader who remains quiet, “aside from making game difficult to hunt, it fucks us if those savages come looking for us.” “Where would we go and when would we leave?” Val quickly asks, keeping the experienced traveller on his toes in an effort to challenge his reaction time. “I saw an old block of buildings up that mountain while I was in the woods. It looks like a ski resort and I’m not sure anyone’s gone up there for shelter yet” Lou responds, not needing more than a pair of seconds to formulate the solution, “if you don’t wanna go through artist territory, we can hike up there until it gets warmer.” “What if that’s not an option? What if the artists come looking for us, or a fire starts while we’re up there?” Val again queries quickly, keeping the conversation rolling and on-point. “The resort’s easier to defend than this camp is. The terrain’s easier, we’ll be more familiar with our surroundings than they’ll be, and we can push the treeline back a few dozen yards” Lou again replies with ease, “if that’s still not a good enough option, our only choice is to go back the way we came.” “Into artist territory? Alright, what do we do when we get down there?” Val hurriedly questions, raising the wonder aloud as the tent’s vestibule parts without Lou taking notice, the figure that enters allowed to do so by the community’s leader without disruption. “Try to find a ride. If you don’t want to go down there all at once, we can send a team out to see if they can commandeer a ride for all of us” the lone wanderer responds, “it may not have worked for you before, but luck can change.” “And where do we go if luck falls in our favour?” Val proceeds to snap with, not waiting any noteworthy amount of time for his answer just as the rest of their discourse had run. “We can make for the border, head into Washington and start looking for empty land if you want to head south” Lou responds, watched on by the third party who just now enters the camp, “if you’d rather stick to the guns my friends and I decided on, we head east as far as we can manage for Calgary.” “Alright, kid. What do we do for food and defence in the meantime?” Val carries on, watching as Ally steps past her boyfriend to approach the man, her eyes looking into the face of her boyfriend, who’s not surprised to see the woman he’d already noticed the reflection of in a chrome toaster beside the community’s leader. “The easy answer would be to attack the artists and take what we can get off of them. Other than that, we scavenge what we can whenever possible” Lou responds, tucking his rebar weapon under his arm as he continues. “It’s very likely some people would starve if we didn’t stop every few dozen miles to see if we can pick off a moose or a deer along the way” the man proceeds, shrugging with a slightly disappointed look in his eye, “the same would be true for the border plan too, though.” “Making the call of who goes hungry and who doesn’t is tough. Who’s going to wear that responsibility if we follow through with that plan, kid?” Val queries, taking two steps to the side so as to keep distance between himself and Ally. “I’ve made the choice to kill people before. I’m sure I’ll have to make that choice again so long as I’m breathing, and I don’t see why this would be any different” Lou confesses, finally uttering something that surprised the sickly leader, “I’ll wear it.” Finally meeting the survivor with silence, Val inspects the man’s demeanour for the uncompromising certainty that it wears, shaking his head with refusal after a few moments without a reply. “You won’t have to” the man concludes, puckering his lips before looking to the ground, staring at it as he wanders, wanting to follow up on his remarks before finding it impossible to do so. “Val, can you hear them!?” Bruno proclaims, hurrying through the flaps in the tent’s vestibule to the surprise of those who occupy the area, unsure of what’s meant by the question. “What’s going on, Bruno?” Ally questions back, as out of the loop as both her boyfriend and leader are, their confusion mimicked through her. “There’s something going on back in town and I don’t know what it is...” the large man replies, cluing those he visits abruptly, “...but there’s a ton of gunshots going off.” = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = “So, that’s our story. Not much more to it than that” Elsie replies, wrapping the thumb of her left finger around the strap that holds a knapsack against her chest whilst looking at the black man and pale white lady she and Josie travel alongside, “what about you?” “I’m from Penticton. I joined up with the others a few miles north of the border” Christina responds, her red hair tied into a bun that sits halfway between the top and back of her head. “What about you, big guy? You Canadian too?” Josie queries, watching their lone male acquaintance look to the ground in a semi-sheepish manner, a smile worn on his face as he refuses. “I’m from Seattle. My brother and I were heading up to the border to visit our mom when everything started going bad” Darnell replies, pressing the base of a prolonged piece of steel into the rocky terrain they climb, preventing his balance from giving out. “How far did you make it?” Elsie calls back, continuing the small talk they’d been encouraged to participate in throughout the journey, yet to reach steady enough land worthy of hunting upon. “Farther than I would’ve expected. She moved to Edmonton when we moved out, so we hopped on the first train that’d take us there” Darnell responds, offering more of a story than his fellow resident of the compound has. “I wanna say it was a couple hours into the ride before we had to make a stop. The track that would’ve actually gotten us into Canada had issues, so we got off at the station in Bellingham” the man continues, remembering the events vividly. “I’m gonna take it your brother didn’t fare too well?” Josie queries, following behind the man recollecting his story whilst he follows Elsie, who in turn follows Christina at the lead of their adventure. “No. It turns out the issue with the track was that the train ahead of us had hit someone they didn’t realise was a zombie” Darnell confesses, taking shame in the way their travel had found itself falling futile. “But they’d already reported the issue when they went out to check on him. The conductor got bit and no one warned the people that went out to help” he continues, a depressing end to the travel having been found. “The train never started up again and we went out to look for a new way into the country” Darnell concludes, their collective defeat leading to one event after another, “my brother got bit, we got split up and I found Val and the others not too long after.” Nodding, the girls unfamiliar with him and his pale-skinned comrade accept the honesty of his story as they carry on, little choice other than to take the man at face value afforded to them. “Are you ever gonna follow through with going to Edmonton?” Christina questions back, looking over her shoulder as she prepares to scale the next boulder the foursome stumbles across, its flat and smooth surface appearing all too intriguing to not journey toward. “Probably not” Darnell replies, his tone taking on a much less hopeful reflection than the one that had been presented throughout the retelling he’d voiced, even its less-pleasant moments. “Oh, don’t convince yourself of that, champ” Josie replies, offering her newly-antiquated fellow survivor with a greater shred of hope than she genuinely believes in, “we were setting our sights on Calgary before we ran into you guys. If we can convince ourselves we’d make it there, you can too.” Humoured, Darnell follows the lead of the ponytail-wearing blonde woman ahead of him as they climb around the stone Christina now ascends, finally reaching a less-elevated stretch of mountain. “It’s not that I don’t think I’ll make it there. I’m sure I could as long as I kept my eyes out for the dead or the artists along the way” the man confesses, leaving his newest acquaintances unsure of why he’d take on such an otherwise conquered intonation. “For a start, I know nothing about Canada. I know we’re in some place called British Columbia, but not much more than that. My mom only moved back here ‘cause it’s where she grew up” Darnell replies, shaking his head at a loss for words as he reaches level ground once more, “I don’t know where Edmonton is. More than that, though, I don’t know what’s going on there now.” “It’s probably overrun. Just like everywhere else” Christina grumbles, shaking her head with the same dissatisfaction that the rest of her travelling bunch do, taking a seat upon the stone’s seat and gazing toward the southern side of the mountain they climb. “Exactly. I don’t want to get my hopes up to the point I’d trek across a country I know nothing about to just get disappointed like that” Darnell quips, a conclusion none of his peers can fault him for taking. “I never saw my brother die, but I know what happens after you get bit. We’ve had a few get really sick until their hearts just gave out” he confesses, shaking his head as they come to a break in the trees, looking out at the scenic view of a pretty world thrown into such ugly chaos, “I never had to see my mom die either. I don’t need to go all the way up to Edmonton just to see what I’m sure has already happened.” “You can’t know for sure that she’s dead. She might’ve gotten lucky” Elsie replies, apparently taking up the unfamiliar mantle alongside Josie of the group’s optimists, “we’ve all gotten luckier than others. Maybe she’s not still in Edmonton, but that doesn’t mean she’s not still alive.” With a smile in the corner of his face, Darnell takes appreciation in, whilst still refusing to buy into, the reassurance that he’s provided, the ending he devotes himself to not being capable of budging. “Even if she managed to roll with some good people, I’m never gonna find her. Your boy back at camp got lucky, but that doesn’t mean we all will” the man confesses, a point that is just as difficult to argue with from the perspective of his accompanying hikers as the others he’s made. “Besides, at this rate, I’m not so sure I’d want her to be suffering in the kind of world this is” Darnell continues, dropping to a knee at the edge of the stone Christina occupies for a quick breather. “Even if she were still going through it, or if she were still in Edmonton, and we met up somewhere along the way... What am I supposed to say to her, y’know?” Darnell questions, staring into the distance whilst Josie and Elsie quietly watch on, Christina’s eyes taking toward the man from just over her shoulder. “Hey, mom. I’m still alive. Steve, well uh... He died, mom. I’m still going, but my brother... he didn’t make it” the man recites, speaking as if he were looking his mother right in the eyes, a soft and remorseful undertone carried through his voice as it begins to crack, leaving those within his company to find themselves returned to the reality of a bleak world they’d otherwise opt to march through with blinders on. “He didn’t die quick, either. He got really sick and probably dropped dead off in the woods somewhere if he hadn’t already gotten shot by a bunch of psychos with shotguns and rifles losing their minds” Darnell carries on, his comments bringing a heart-dropping discomfort over the already bone-chilling winter air. “If mom’s still alive, I hope we never meet. I’d never...” the man concludes, hanging his head as not even the Canadian forest can bring his mind peace, “...I could never handle that.” Hanging her head, Elsie looks toward her right with a frown, expecting to lock eyes with her well-acquainted friend, only to find the woman’s eyes directing themselves off into the distance. “You good, Josie?” the woman wonders aloud, prompting the members from the community to turn back curiously, watching the woman in question try to quickly regain her composure, wiping the tears that had come to form in her eyes. “Wh-? Oh, fuck... Yeah, I’m good. Um...” Josie stammers, shaking her head quickly so as to dismiss the emotion that had welled within her, hastily looking to carry on with anything capable of dragging her mind from the gutter it’d stumbled into. “We should get moving again. There’s not, uh... Let’s not get caught in the dark” she proclaims, leading the charge that the seated Christina surrenders to her by default, continuing the march west from the community they represent in their voyage. | “What the hell do you think is happening down there?” Sebastian wonders aloud, standing with his arms crossed as he stares into the distance of the downtown they’d run into their fellow members of the community in, still hearing the distant gunshots scramble through the air as the day turns to night. “Not something I want to be a part of, I’ll tell you that much” Adrian answers, remaining interested in the flurry of disaster beyond their view whilst others have returned to other matters. “It’s been hours. What the hell could they still be shooting at?” Sonya questions back, taking the blade of a knife toward the end of a stick she’s fitted with some string and carved into a pointed tip. “What else would still be coming after them after this long?” Courtney calls into question, raising the concern that she answers with absolute ease, “the only thing they could still be firing at would be the dead.” “Not necessarily” Adrian replies, standing behind his daughter for the time that he watches on, pulling away in favour of following suit with others, offering a solution as he prepares to depart, “they could be turning on each other.” Looking at the way in which the Simard father retreats, Courtney takes the claim into consideration before locking eyes with her boyfriend, his stare meeting that of her own. “They are savages according to what Val and the others say” Sebastian replies, not finding the possibility beyond the point of reason, “they could’ve found the people Lou killed and assume their own had something to do with it.” “Maybe we should tell Lou and the others?” Sonya proposes, the conclusion not one worth striking out inherently, “if Val and the others are hesitant to leave, this might be enough to convince them to move out.” Nodding, Marta allows the suggestion to find its way into her attention, surrounding it with the potential outcomes that may arise from it. “I’d rather be back on the road for Calgary than in this place, that’s for sure” she concludes aloud, turning away much like her father had, a hand tucked into her pocket as she ventures off. “I’ll be back” she proclaims, wandering off into the night just as so many others had throughout the day, given a salute from Sonya’s knife whilst the others she’d stood beside take a dismissive note of her retreat. Leaving her footprints in the loose, fluffy snow between herself and the camp’s depths, Marta travels the minimal distance between herself and the tent that her mentor occupies, closing in on the distance that separates them before suddenly coming to a stop. Ceasing her journey, the young woman watches as the vestibule parts, her eyes having locked into place upon her destination in time to watch Ally step through, redoing the buttons of the pants she just now puts on. With messy hair, the woman of relatively equal age walks off without noticing her boyfriend’s protege, her eyes taking toward the side of the compound that her tent resides in without looking elsewhere. Unable to move at first, Marta watches Ally’s journey lead her elsewhere before remaining put for a few moments, quickly trying to subside the dissatisfaction that builds within her, naturally taking a hold of her motor functions before her time to react draws to an end. His long strands of hair moistened with sweat, Lou adjusts a white t-shirt that he’d just thrown on as he follows his girlfriend’s lead, stepping out of his own tent before coming to a stop just beyond its entrance. Not intending to follow after the woman he’d only reunited with days earlier, the one-armed stalwart instead begins to step in the direction he knows his peers to be, reserving his focus for a few seconds to properly fit his clothing into place before looking up. Unable to wipe the taken aback expression from her face in time, Marta looks toward her mentor with a surprised visage, not one of pleasure or easily-discernible dismay, but instead, one that doesn’t appear comfortable in nature. Finding his friend standing between himself and those who continue to watch over the distant sound of gunfire, Lou silently stares whilst remaining frozen, not moving from the place his journey had come to a temporary stop in. Not close enough within the woman’s range to speak cordially even if he were able to, Lou instead remains looking toward his protege without being able to mutter a reply. Aware of the feelings that his friend has for him that not even Ally is privy to from what he’s aware of, the thick beard-wearing survivor simply remains standing without a reply to offer, watching as Marta’s face gradually returns to the state in which it normally rests in as the sky turns a bright orange. “Holy shit!” a woman screams a short distance away, reacting to the same ball of fire that leaps into the heavens, its appearance earning Lou’s undivided attention and prompting Marta to spin around. Having nearly made it to her bivouac, Ally’s feet cement themselves into the snow as her eyes are stolen by the same centre of awe that those belonging to residents in all directions of her are. With the slightest edge of high ground afforded to them from the treeline they’d pushed back, the compound’s remaining inhabitants watch an explosion take shape in the direction they know the artists to be, a seemingly catastrophic end to the gun battle they’d hoped for a preferable resolution to making itself undeniable and unavoidable. In sheer shock and awe, the residents watch on with collective fascination and captivation as the destruction turns from an all-engulfing ball of orange to a barely-visible and demonically dark cloud of smoke. Frozen in time for just a few seconds, the camp and all of its present members stare in horror as the bullets that had just flown mere seconds prior come to a sudden and horribly placid end, sentencing the ordinary, British Columbia town to a grim and grizzly silence. == RISE and REVOLT == Having spent the last hour and a half falling in and out of a slumber impossible to consider anything close to comfortable, Marta awakens with parted eyes and cheeks flushed a rosy red shade to the sight of a ceramic mug being placed beside her sleeping bag. “Good morning, sweetie” Adrian remarks, pulling his hands away from the steaming hot beverage as he watches his daughter’s eyes take toward him, his face easily made out from the cloudy daylight beyond their tent.
“It sounded like a burlap sack was being dragged through the dirt all night long. You wouldn’t stay still in that bag for longer than ten minutes at a time” the man remarks, watching as his daughter sits up, tossing the blanket covering off of her sweater-covered torso. “I couldn’t sleep and it was cold” the young woman answers calmly, gently taking the cup by its handle and lifting it toward her face, feeling the cold skin that covers her facial muscles be warmed by the steam within her drink. “The heavy sweater and two pairs of sweatpants that you wore to bed didn’t help?” Adrian jokes back, watching his daughter’s eyes take toward his direction, her barely-present smirk presenting the man with a reply of silence. Amused, the father kicks the winter boots that his feet had called home for just the time it took to retrieve the hot drink off, allowing his sock-covered feet to slide comfortably underneath the cover of his own sleeping bag. “Did Lou come back yet?” Marta wonders aloud, pressing her lips together and blowing on the steaming cup’s rim, trying to cool the plain tea down just enough for a reasonable sip to be taken. “No, he’s still out catching squirrels or something. I’m not really sure what he gets up to when he’s not around” Adrian explains, only able to work off of the information he’d been fed by his fellow survivors and the absence of the one-armed stalwart in the camp, “he’ll be back soon enough.” Managing to take just enough of a sip from her tea to suffice, Marta shrugs in agreement before extending her elbows outward, rubbing her face with the palms of her hands while stretching the muscles in her back. “He seemed pretty mad when he left. I’m sure he’s just taking as much time as he needs to clear his mind” Adrian remarks, offering his daughter whatever reassurance he’s capable enough to provide, “according to Jenn, he got into an argument with Ally and stormed off.” “Yeah, that’s what Terry told me. He said it had something to do with the Calgary plan, but he didn’t know much more than that” Marta replies, shielding her mouth with the inner elbow of her arm as she pauses to yawn. “They’ll figure something out when he gets back. I’m not going to worry myself over it” the young woman concedes, rolling her head to ease the tension in her neck before falling back into the comfort of her puffy slumber pad, letting her head fall back into her pillow. From across the tent they share, Adrian watches his daughter’s eyes close and her head strike the cushioned support she’d rested upon the night prior, curious as to the dismissal she takes toward the situation spoken of. “Why didn’t you go after him last night?” the man wonders aloud, watching as the young woman keeps her eyelids together, her mouth barely moving as she attempts to catch up on whatever sleep from the night prior that she’d been unable to get. “Lou’s a grown man. He can take care of himself” Marta replies, her rebuttal one that only serves to further puzzle the man who’d already looked to her curiously. “Oh, is that so?” Adrian questions back, not doubting the woman’s answer, but distrusting the reason she gives him, “you two have been stuck to the hip ever since you met. What’s brought about this change?” Covering her body with the blanket she’d just recently freed herself from the coverage of, Marta remains intent on falling asleep, but continues the conversation with her father for as long as he’s willing to have it. “I don’t know that Ally would take kindly to another woman following her boyfriend into the woods for hours” the young woman responds, unable to see the smirk and nod that her father takes toward the reply, “and it doesn’t seem like a very friendly thing to do to her.” “So, this ‘Lou will be Lou’ thing you’ve got going on is because of Ally, eh?” Adrian questions back, noticing the shrug that his offspring returns him with despite the heavy blanket that shields her. Nodding to himself, the father continues to wear his half-smile, accepting the rationale that his daughter provides him with before thinking to himself for a moment, remaining seated upright in his sleeping bag as he processes the claim. “Lou’s a good kid, Marta. He’s trust-worthy, he’s dependable, and he’s got a good head on his shoulders” Adrian proclaims, all points that his daughter wouldn’t argue against even if she were in the mood to. “I’m glad you’ve found someone that’ll care about you as much as you care about them, even if I’m not pleased that it’s taken everything that’s happened over the last few months to make that happen” the man continues, beginning to make his own attempt at catching up on sleep. “I just hope that the two of you keep fighting for each other as much as you have since you met...” he concludes, throwing the cover over himself as he turns away from the young woman, his head laying into the pillow, “...I’m sure he will.” For a few seconds, the claim is allowed to sit without a reaction before Marta parts her eyelids, staring up at the tent’s ceiling as the comment hits home, prompting her every intention of falling asleep once more to fall as quickly as it had come on. = RISE and REVOLT is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series from Season 1 onwards belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 = “I don’t know, man. I’m not gonna drive myself crazy over it” Terry responds, leaning against the scrunched up blanket of his sleeping bag as if it were a lounge chair, his arms crossed around the back of his head. “We had a plan to go to Calgary before we got here. Whether that’s where we go if we’ve got to leave here or not probably doesn’t matter” the man doubles down, watched on by the group’s other shot-caller, who crosses his arms whilst standing in the opposite corner. “Lou’s not gonna want to leave Ally” Elsie interjects, staring at the ground as she sits in the corner between Terry and Sebastian, her friend with the second tomahawk seated just a pair of metres to the side. “I don’t know what Ally’s association is with these people, but any move we plan has to take them into consideration” the blonde woman with braided hair assures, “we have to be prepared for Lou refusing to cut us off and Ally refusing to cut the others off.” “It doesn’t really matter how many people tail along if we don’t know where we’re going” Sonya proceeds, sitting beside her sister with her legs stretching across the floor. “It does if we want to keep track of what we’ll need to be bringing along with us” Courtney replies, looking toward her left at the sibling she corrects, “there’s a difference between a trip with us and a trip with the others too. The latter leaves a lot of people starving.” “I don’t like these jerks, I’ll be honest. My cards are on the table” Josie proceeds, making her own opinion heard, “they’re hostile and they’re jumpy. I can’t trust them to keep their shit together when shit goes south.” Pointing in the woman’s direction, Sonya throws her support in the column that the mechanically-gifted survivor presents. “I agree with Josie. There’s just something off about them” the younger Golden sister quips, “I’m not going hungry so people I don’t trust can tag along.” “We’ve only known them for a day and a half. I’m sure they’re easier to get along with than they’re letting on at the moment” Courtney reassures, looking toward the blonde woman beside Josie, “we’re gonna have to get used to them.” Nodding along with the woman’s claim, Elsie accepts the support the elder Golden sibling presents to her case, doubling down on her stance. “We’re not leaving without Lou, and that means we’re not leaving without Ally” the blonde survivor concludes, looking toward her group’s leader as the opposite team’s shot-caller bows his head, “if we’re not leaving without Ally, then we’re likely not leaving without the hot heads. End of story.” “What’s on your mind, Sebastian?” Terry wonders aloud, having redirected his sights toward the man before Elsie had finished stating her case to him. “I think wherever we go can’t be here. I’m sure there’s gonna be violent people no matter where we go, but that doesn’t mean there’s gonna be a swarm of different teams of them” the man in question replies, lifting his head toward the man across from him, “Calgary doesn’t have to be ‘the plan’ anymore now that Lou’s found Ally.” “I’m starting to like the idea you guys came up with a few days ago. Heading south where the weather is warmer” Sonya quips, looking to those seated across from her with a nod, “I don’t know what the border situation is looking like, but it seems like Val and Bruno got across alright.” “I don’t even know what the government was doing back home when this all started. We were quartered up in the school while everything was unfolding” Terry carries on, shaking his head at a loss, “my home was empty when we got there. Aside from some helicopters, I’ve got no idea what kind of army shit is still standing.” “Trudeau said he was setting up some RCMP outposts around the prairies last I heard, but we were already up in the cabin by then” Sebastian responds, their insight on higher-level matters proving limited. “Ally said Val and some others purposefully came up from Idaho because of the outposts but the border was packed” Terry explains, reciting whatever information he was forwarded by the woman, “she said he left and came back a few days later and the border was straight-up unprotected.” “Did she say where?” Courtney wonders aloud, a slightly new leash on life afforded to her as the lifeline is thrown metaphorically, “if the protection fell after the few first days, we can use that station to cross into the ‘States.” Quietly shaking his head in refusal and uncertainty, Terry leaves the floor open for Sebastian to again take control over the conversation, his voice the only one projected amongst all others. “We should consult the others before we make any plans. Terry and I just wanted to hash some things out in the meantime” Sebastian responds, letting his arms fall from their gathering together as the discourse appears to reach its end. Dispersing, the group begins to fan out in favour of what they had been intended to do prior to the gathering’s formation, allowing the Canadian side’s leader to depart the tent alongside the Golden sisters. “Do either of you know where I can get a stick of metal?” Sonya wonders aloud, turning back to face the couple that follow in her path, their quiet shake of the heads implying the answer. “You looking to build a house out here or something?” Sebastian jokes, watching the slight smirk in the woman’s face react to him. “No, I lost the pipe I was using back at the arcade. I don’t wanna get caught with my pants down metaphorically” the younger sibling remarks, “I’ll see you two later.” “Don’t wander too far” Courtney proclaims, watching as the young woman returns a thumb’s up to her before continuing on the stroll that she and her boyfriend take to their tent. “I’m glad she’s starting to warm up to all of this. I’m sure it’s not easy to just move on from what happened to your dad” Sebastian remarks, turning to watch his girlfriend’s head nod as he finishes her thought, the older sister watching as her younger sibling wanders off, “speaking of which, how’ve you been?” Pressing her lips together to form neither a frown, nor a smile, Courtney continues to follow her only remaining family member’s figure as it grows farther away, letting out an exhale through her nose. “Better than if you weren’t here” the older sibling answers honestly, the only sound heard through their cold-bitten ears being the crunches of their footsteps in the snow and the contained fires crackling in the near distance. “I’m just trying to be the strong big sister. I don’t want Sonya feeling like she can’t hurt just ‘cause I am” Courtney confesses, finally pulling her line of sight away from the direction of the woman in question. “Do you think that’s helping anything?” Sebastian queries, their strolling pace affording them more than enough time to have the conversation at large. At first answering with a shrug, Courtney looks to the ground and follows the muddy shoe prints that she and her boyfriend follow, trying to fit her feet into the slightly-larger assortment of tracks that line the path ahead. “Maybe it’s just ‘cause dad was there too, but I feel like it worked a lot better after mom died” the woman finally emphasises, not sure what more to make of the results to this new trial of grief, “Sonya’s just holding it together a lot better than I thought she would.” Taking Courtney’s hand into her own, Sebastian locks his fingers along with his girlfriend’s own as they continue their travels onward. “Little Sonya’s growing up, I suppose” the man mutters, putting a smile on the grounded pilot’s face that doesn’t take long to fade away, the amusement she takes in the remark finding itself replaced with a suddenly compelling inquiry of self-wonder. “I wonder if she’ll need me around to keep herself going for much longer” Courtney murmurs, a gesture that provokes her companion to quietly look at her, opting not to speak against the claim out of uncertainty what is meant by it. “At least, I hope she won’t need me for much longer. It’d probably be best she didn’t in case we got separated for whatever reason” the paramotorist confesses, looking off into the distance of the wilderness they reside within, comfort taken in her own conclusion. | “Can I borrow this?” Marta wonders aloud, picking a piece of fabric wire off the top of a drum barrel before holding it toward the direction of a woman who occupies the tent beside it. “It’s not mine, I found it on the ground. Go ahead” the community member replies, watching as the Canadian girl smiles and nods. “Thanks. I’m Marta, by the way” the outgoing young adult greets, watching a pleasant expression take shape on the face of the camp’s resident. “I’m Dawn” the friendly-appearing survivor responds, watched on by a well-known brunette just a short distance away. “It’s nice to meet you, Dawn. I’ll see you around” Marta replies, taking off just as quickly as she’d introduced herself, making acquaintances with the residents the situation calls for her to familiarise with, preparing to enter the woodlands before being called for. “Marta! Wait up!” Ally’s voice calls out, her hand stretching into the air to gather the young woman’s attention before her feet follow suit, shortening the distance between herself and the member of her boyfriend’s group as the sky darkens even further than the clouds overhead had let on. “You, uh... You going out for something?” the girlfriend of the survivor’s mentor questions aloud, only raising the inquiry when close enough to the woman in question, watching as the subject of her intrigue begins tying the slightly-frayed wire into a loop. “Yeah, I’m gonna see if I can find a squirrel around” Marta answers, pulling the cord into a tighter knot than what she’d initially fastened, “or maybe I’ll catch a rabbit. I’ll settle for anything Courtney can skin and toss on a fire.” Slowing her approach down as the distance between them turns into centimetres, Ally leans her head toward her side with a friendly smile, appearing more welcoming than her contemporary setting out for a hunt presents. “Wow. I see Lou found some pretty capable company, huh?” the woman questions aloud, trying to extend pleasantries to the young woman who’d taken up such vast amounts of time with her boyfriend, only to find them unreciprocated in lieu of other ventures. “I wasn’t until he taught me. My dad and the others would’ve preferred if I just sat around with a phone in my hands all day” Marta confesses, paying the woman opposite her less mind than the knots she attempts to undo from within the cord she sets out with. “Yeah, I heard he’s been helping you get acclimated with how things work out here” Ally responds, watching her Canadian pal squint with a harder focus on the rope she carries than the conversation at hand. “Yeah, he’s my mentor. Taught me how to take care of the dead and where to look for shit” Marta replies, grunting as she finally frees the cord from the tie that had perturbed her, “now I’m gonna put those skills to the test. Hopefully I won’t have to come back a mooch off of you and your friends like last night.” “Feel free to mooch if you need. We’re all better off working together than separately” Ally responds, watching as her eyes collide with those of the Simard child’s own. “Maybe, or maybe not. I don’t know anymore about you and your friends than you know about us” Marta responds, resuming the process of fixing the wire into a rope she can wear over her shoulder, “I could be wrong, but it’d probably take us getting to know each other before we can really work together.” Flashing a smile that, at first, comes without an accompanying reply, Ally watches her boyfriend’s protege continue on with her tying of the wire before her amusement settles aside. “Well, you must at least know me better than the others, right?” the one-time resident of Los Angeles questions back, watching as the other half of her friendly chat shrugs the inquiry aside. “He must not have told me enough about you over the last few weeks then” Marta confesses, finally fixing the cord into a suitable enough loop to throw it over her shoulder, “I haven’t heard enough about you to know why, after all that he’s gone through to find you, he’d be so mad that he’d walk off into the woods without saying why.” Frowning as she looks away, Ally parts her lips to reply before finding herself having fallen silent, afforded another second or two to redirect her mind away from an outright dismissal. “I told Val about the plan you guys had made to go to Calgary. That was all” the member of the aforementioned man’s community confesses, watching as the girl across from her looks off to the side. “Why would you do that?” Marta says in an unaffected tone, simply curious as to know the reasoning behind the camp member’s actions. “Because it’s not a big deal. I get that Lou doesn’t trust Val that much, but like you said, it doesn’t look like any of us have much of a choice in the matter” Ally responds, defending her actions without much of a belief that it’s necessary, “if we’re gonna leave this place eventually, we’ll have to have somewhere in mind, don’t you think?” “That’s none of my business. I’m not the person who makes the calls for your friends or for mine. Wherever we go is wherever we go” Marta answers, seeing little reason in arguing one way or another. “Either way, it doesn’t really matter. Whatever business the two of you have has nothing to do with me. If you two have problems, they’re yours to deal with” she doubles down, pulling away to set her attention upon the hunt she’s bound for. “That’s it? It’s just a ‘deal with it yourselves’ kind of thing?” Ally questions back, surprised by the dismissive and quick retreat that her new contemporary presents her with. “What else do you want me to say? He’s your boyfriend and you’re his girlfriend. I’m just someone he’s helping out” Marta replies, her own opinion on the subjects of her questioning being well-hidden and put aside. “Sure, but everyone else says the two of you are closer than just ‘mentor’ and ‘protege’” Ally responds, the initial comment putting a slight concern in Marta’s demeanour, the young woman not certain over what’s meant by the implication. “They say you’re better friends with Lou than anyone else he’s met since we all got broken apart. I figure that’s got to count for something” the one-armed stalwart’s girlfriend explains, her follow-through easing the tension that had built in the protege. “I don’t know. I guess I just figured you might be able to help me out a little bit more than ‘work on it yourselves’” Ally concludes, looking on defeatedly as she begins to lower her head, apologetic in her approach. Looking away, Marta battles with herself to put her feelings toward the woman away in favour of finding common ground, not wanting to create a permanent existence alongside the girlfriend of someone she holds rather close. “He’s a different person from the last time you saw him. That’s what I’ve been picking up on, at least. I’m sure the two of you are going to need to get used to that over some time” the only Simard child explains, looking the battle-tested survivor in the eyes. “Just don’t start making problems with each other. If the two of you have a problem, then you’ll have a problem with my friends” Marta warns, holding out hope that no issue reaches the point she speaks of. “If you have a problem with my friends, then you’re gonna have a problem with me...” she concludes, turning her body toward the woodlands she prepares her journey into, “...and I’d really rather not have a problem with you, Ally.” Making herself clear, Marta leaves the conversation off by stepping onward, carrying herself through the treeline and wandering into the unknown that lies ahead, watched on by Ally as she does so, leaving the woman little to read into. | “You have a problem we should know about?” Jules wonders aloud, dipping into the tent of the community’s general without being afforded an invitation, watching as the man tilts his head back to down a gulp of water. Caught by surprise as he downs a tiny pill, Val turns to face his unexpected visitor just as the man bows through the vestibule, licking his lips as the sip is finished off. “It’s for a fever. I’ve been feeling off for the last few hours” the bearded commander retorts, setting the plastic water bottle down with a pair of squinted eyebrows, “I don’t remember hearing someone ask to be let in.” Hanging his head before seeing himself into a chair in the corner of the bivouac, Jules nods to himself with a smile, humoured by the man’s comment. “That’s ‘cause I didn’t ask” the uninvited guest responds, watching in real time as the amusement he takes fails to find itself matched in the man he now sits across. Flaring his nostrils, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead and planting his hands upon his hips, Val looks to the floor whilst trying to keep his composure intact, not wanting to stoke tensions between himself and the camp’s other half while they’re still running high. “I don’t appreciate you and your buddies feeling entitled to just walk around doing whatever you want” he confesses, taking notice of Jules’ visage for the lack of interest in his feelings that it carries. “I admit my fault for putting a gun on your friend, but that doesn’t mean I’m alright with him just wandering off whenever he pleases” Val explains, remaining as well-spoken as his irritation will allow him, “I’ve got a responsibility to this camp. I don’t want you putting them in danger.” “And my friends and I have a responsibility to keep each other safe” Jules rejoinders, matching the calm and collected tone that he’s spoken to with. “Ally may trust you, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us do. She came by and told Terry what the two of you suggested to Lou last night, so don’t think we’re not clear on what you and the others are hoping for” the travelled survivor doubles down, “if you want us sticking around, you’ve got to work with us just as much as we work with you.” “And what exactly do you have in mind?” Val responds, continuing to speak as his visitor shakes his head quietly, “you want us setting some ground rules or something? What is it that you want?” “First of all, I want you to consider yourself lucky that I’m the one coming to talk to you about this first instead of Terry and Sebastian” Jules answers, starting with the warning simple enough to offer without issue. “If they were the ones coming over here to lay the groundwork here, Sebastian would be cooperating in ways that Terry just would not allow” the young leftover of a bygone era explains, “if that were the case, there’d be no solution that you’d be too pleased with.” “I’m sick and tired, what’s your point?” Val hurries, displeased to be taking part in these discussions in general let alone at this hour of the day, where the light begins to set in favour of night. “That you rock with Ally and Lou rocks with us” Jules responds, keeping his assertions simple and to the point, “as long as that stays the case, there’s not much either of us is gonna be able to do without the others. You might as well consider this a marriage we’re the inlaws of.” “That might be the only thing about any of this that has already been made clear, so I’ll ask again. What’s your point?” Val retorts, wearing bags beneath his eyes from the exhaustion that leaves him sore and in need of sleep. “That we should start trying to get along and get used to each other while we can” Jules answers, taking the initiative he feels he’s far more ready to provide than the rest of his group is. “If those animals back in town are as dangerous as you say they are and we’ve got issues with them, who knows how long we’ll have the kind of peace this camp gives us?” he reiterates, a conclusion that proves to finally be common enough ground to share with the community’s leader. “Where we go or what comes out of this camp can be decided later. Let’s first get on the same page” Jules declares, “no more guns in each other’s faces or running off without telling each other first.” With a straight face, Val looks into his younger contemporary in the same stance that he’d assumed for the majority of their conversation, a subtle nod initially presented to the acquaintance across from him. “I can get behind that” the light-skinned, bearded and short-haired leader assures, watching as the man seated opposite him reacts accordingly, lifting himself out of the chair and extending his hand to the ill commander. “We’ll start tomorrow. Have a party of four, two from your side of the camp and two from ours, go out on a hunt for whatever they can bring back” Jules proclaims, presenting a case that the leader can get behind. “Any other issues that need to be resolved can take the same shape, two per each side. No one does any of it unless they choose to so nobody feels forced into this” he finalises, “we’ll all have dinner when night falls, together, and get to know each other.” Disregarding a handshake in the name of continued good health, Val gestures the younger man toward a closed fist he presses his own knuckles again, taking the place of a deal-closer. “You’ve got yourself a deal, kid” the hispanic man responds, watching as Jules turns away without saying another word, nodding appreciatively before going to leave. “Can I ask you one question, though?” the community’s leadership inquires at the last second, watching as the subject of his interest turns back, waiting for the question. “The kid without the second arm seems to know a thing or two more than I thought he would. His girl- Ally- handles herself well, and then there’s you” Val leads in, lending up to his question with credit offered where it’s due, “what’s up with you young ones? I’ve never seen kids pick up their slack like the group of you do.” Flattered, Jules looks to the side for a second whilst shrugging, unsure in what way he wishes to answer. Eventually sprouting a cheerful grin, the young man follows through with his departure amidst offering an open-ended reply, “I guess you’ll have to wait until dinner to find out, won’t you?” Taking the non-answer as a fair enough reason to look forward to the following night, the community’s leader pulls his hand away from his side and gives Jules a wave. “Goodnight” Val concludes, dismissing the man with friendliness before their paths divert from each other, returning them to their individual journeys with a more peaceful co-existence forged, leaving the night off in a better way than the one prior had went and opening a more hopeful door for the sides to take toward. == RISE and REVOLT == |
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