S5, E12 | With the Angels

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 ==