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His face wrought with the suffering of his trauma, Emilio sits at his countertop with a plain black mug of coffee sat before himself, his warm palms resting against each side of the ceramic cup, its inside filled with a beverage that’s now gone cold. His lips pressed together and eyes naturally wide, the man’s facial muscles hang like bags beneath his eyes as the sun finally reaches its highest point in the sky, the clouds it hides behind refusing to allow much light to reach Cumberland.
The repetitive tapping of a knuckle calling for him at his home’s front, Emilio’s face finally takes away from the tabletop’s centre, eyes directed toward the archway between his foyer and kitchen. “Go away” the man remarks, despondent and dejected, not only irritable, but unwelcoming. Disobeying the man’s request, Jade gently opens the door to peek her head through, her eyes immediately locking upon the occupied kitchen. Without a word, the woman steps through the door and removes her shoes, entering the man’s space with a plastic bag hanging from her wrist. Without uttering a word, Emilio watches Cumberland’s leader step into his domain without refusing her presence, the bag’s crinkling sound filling the room as it’s laid upon an unused barstool. “I thought you might need some groceries” Jade ripostes, setting the bag down before waiting for the man across from her to respond, the silent seconds that linger between them offers more information to his mindset than words possibly could. Clicking his tongue, Emilio glances to the cup in front of him before returning his attention to the woman, “thank you” he responds simply, not a further word needed to convey his appreciation- however genuine it may be. Nodding her head, Jade remains standing in eerie silence once more, waiting for any further remarks that may emerge- but never do. However unnecessary her company may be, Jade slides a second empty stool from the kitchen’s island before claiming it as her seat, both hands folded atop the marble counter as she stares into the man’s eyes, not much to read- if anything at all. “Are you gonna drink that?” Jade queries, redirecting the man’s attention to the mug held between his hands, a brief glance all her acquaintance takes toward the beverage. “It’s cold” Emilio responds, his voice never once rising from the distant and downcast pitch it’d been presented with. Nodding, Jade reaches her hand across the tabletop and takes the mug into her possession, sliding it to her person before raising it toward her lips, “coffee is coffee.” Listening to the woman’s audible first sip of his beverage, Emilio waits for her conclusion before responding further, uninterested in providing a remark for something that doesn’t require one. With a satisfied sigh, Jade lowers the mug from her mouth, casually wiping the corner of her lips as she swallows, a light quip presented, “black coffee's still bitter as hell.” The silence furthering, Emilio stares into his guest’s eyes just as she does onto him, the room they inhabit darkening further as the clouds cover the sky more, not a bird to chirp beyond the windows, and not a roaring engine to pass the quiet street the Rawson neighbourhood was built upon. “Did you come here looking for something?” Emilio quietly inquires, his hands now laying against the stone finish in wake of the theft of his coffee. “You know why I came” Jade answers, a sorrow held within her voice’s reflection just the same as her grieving friend, the only difference being the future-set approach she harnesses. “No- I don’t” Emilio replies, his eyes narrowingly slightly as he responds, a subtle shake coming over his head. Lips puckered, Jade continues to stare at the horror-stricken man for a few seconds longer, maintaining a hushed-presence throughout the brief inspection. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” Jade remarks, again lifting the mug- though only halfway to her mouth, allowing her to finish the thought she’d entered with, “and the rest of your people do too, but you won’t talk to them.” “I don’t want to talk to them,” Emilio swiftly replies, watching the woman take down another swig of his once-warm brew, “-I don’t know why they’d even want to talk to me.” With a squint, Jade again wipes the corner of her mouth before answering the man’s concerns, listening to the insight he’s offered before providing her own. “You don’t know why they’d want to talk to you?” Jade repeats, though her duplication of the response comes off with a sarcastic tone, “why they’d want to know how you’re dealing with the loss? The loss that’s hitting all of you?” Bowing his head, Emilio’s eyes begin to circle the various rock formations sealed within the creation of his kitchen’s island. “Your people are hurting just as much as you are. They’re questioning themselves even though they shouldn’t, and it’s eati-” Jade continues, the calm tone of voice across the table preventing her from continuing as it interrupts. “Why shouldn’t they?” Emilio queries, his face souring as his glare returns to the face opposite him, his visage tensing. “Why shouldn’t they question themselves? Why shouldn’t I?” the man asks again, continuing to speak in lieu of Jade’s answer, which remains as non-present as most of his own had been presented with, “none of us saw it coming- so why shouldn’t we be asking ourselves how we could let that happen?” “Because you can’t always know what’s going on in someone’s head” the sturdy figure with a coffee in her reach responds without hesitation, watching the head of the man she shares the room with turn to the side and scoff. “Yeah, well- Amy knew” Emilio remarks back, drawing the curtains on Jade’s response as the woman falls silent, opening the floor for the man to continue, partially due to a lack of viable counterarguments, and partially out of respect for the man she wishes to let grieve. “The kid knew. She knew and none of us did. She saw it, she knew, and now- she’s dead” Emilio concludes, his chin falling as he lowers his back against the rear of his seat, “-they’re all dead.” The room falling silent once more, Jade matches Emilio’s posture, bowing her head as her tongue presses into the soft part of her mouth, a self-doubt made visually resonant. “If I hadn’t let Jess in- none of this would have happened,” the woman finally remarks, only lifting her face when Emilio does the same, “I’m more responsible for all of this than you are. So, if I’m sitting here to get us all on the right track again, there’s no reason for the rest of you not to try and do the same.” Flashing a grin as he nods, Emilio points a finger in the woman’s direction as he frees a light chuckle, “so that’s what this is about” he remarks, pulling in a deep breath as Jade begins to answer. “Yeah. I’m sorry I have to be the one to let you know this, but the world doesn’t stop turning just because a few people die” the woman responds, a serious tone having overtaken the sympathetic approach she no longer finds a need for, “Cumberland still needs to be set on the right track.” “Well, I wish you the best of luck!” Emilio disingenuously replies, leaving his seat as he begins rounding the island, setting his path on the home’s second level, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance.” Tongue still pressed against the inside of her cheek, Jade wraps both hands around the mug as Emilio steps past her, beginning to leave the room before her words call him back. Eyebrows furrowed and no longer able to portray a kindness she’d wanted to maintain through the visit, Jade’s head stares toward the seat her neighbour had recently departed, speaking just loud enough for her words to catch the man’s attention. “I guess that means you’re not interested in that ticket to Nova Scotia then, are you?” Jade quite vindictively remarks, an expression of great dissatisfaction in herself appearing along her face as she listens to Emilio’s footsteps cease. Stone-faced, Emilio pauses for a moment to digest what had just been said to him, trying to sort it from the abundance of other thoughts that flood through his head as he slowly turns back. “What did you just say to me?” Emilio calmly queries, watching the woman strikingly climb out from her seat, staring down from the man with a much smaller stature- but a much greater place on the settlement’s chain of command. “The deal was that you- and the rest of the group- would be my closest confidants” Jade replies, leaving the coffee behind as she subtly steps closer to the man, “that you’d exterminate what’s left of Rockford and help me keep Cumberland in order.” Disgusted, Emilio’s upper lip curls as his head leans to one side, his widened eyes paired with the white teeth he presents toward his superior. “Are you blackmailing me?” the man wonders aloud, watching Jade’s expression for a change that never arrives, neither pleasure, nor disappointment, held for him to bear witness to. “I’m doing what I have to for my town” Jade replies, refusing to provide the man- that matches her subtle approach with one of his own- with anything less than honesty. “If that means reminding you that I reunited you with the rest of your group, let you jump the line in spite of the backlash that may hold for me, and have done nothing but provide you with care the rest of the world would kill each other to experience again-” she continues, confident and bold, “-yeah, I’m willing to do that.” Enraged, Emilio parts the fingers on his right hand and wraps them around Jade’s throat, pushing the woman back into the kitchen and against the island, the impact of her collision with the built-in furniture shaking the room well enough to knock the cold cup of coffee over. Not one to take such aggression lightly, Jade swipes the man’s hand away from her neck and presses her heel into the man’s toes, its effect not only minimal- but essentially non-existent. Without a moment of delay, Emilio blocks a second shot- this time Jade’s fist aimed toward his face- and side-steps the woman, his outstretched foot tripping her as she zips past him. Only the hardwood floor to break her fall, Jade crashes into the ground and immediately rolls onto her back, an attempt at inciting a return fight thwarted as her eyes fall upon the gun that Emilio wields, its barrel held between her eyes. Defeated, Jade raises her hands in surrender, the ability for Emilio to end her life on a whim on its own enough to make her loss undisputable. Barely breaking a sweat, Emilio eases his aim on the weapon, slowly letting it fall to his side as he further steps over Jade, his feet planted upon the ground to each side of her hip before he chooses to step away. Returning to the kitchen’s island, Emilio picks up the ceramic mug and places his weapon atop the counter, his intentions having never been to hurt Jade, but rather remind her of his brute superiority. Freed from imminent danger, Cumberland’s leader slowly returns to her feet, allowing the man a few metres away to make do with their brief altercation’s aftermath. “We’re done” Emilio suddenly murmurs, reaching into a cabinet beneath the island, where he retrieves a roll of paper towels, tending to the spill. Confused, Jade watches the man swipe at the trail her drink left behind before presenting her inquiry. “What does that mean?” the woman asks back, her eyes kept on Emilio as he strolls to the nearest bin, discarding the soaked towels before setting the empty mug into his equally-empty sink. “It means we’re done” Emilio responds, finally turning to look the woman in the eyes once more before approaching her casually, neither survivor interested in rehashing their conflict. Pressing his lips together, Emilio lets the gears in his brain turn as he looks the woman in the eyes from up close, Jade’s silence offered purposefully. “John, Jess, and Amy- Meghan and Janice- both Tyler’s- Reggie, Shauna” Emilio names, each weighing on him just as much as the rest, the people the memories belong to sharing a fate he knows is inevitable for all, “Heather and Cameron, Troy and Katie... Bill... We’ve lost too many people fighting for this.” Her face softened at the mention of his predecessor's name and only weakening the further he moves along, Jade lets Emilio’s thoughts conclude before presenting the question that appears obvious in her mind. “Fighting for what?” the woman queries, lifting her chin to look the man in the eyes- wanting to hear him say the words. With a distraught visage, Emilio parts his lips to answer, only able to do so with a whisper. “Fighting for a home” the man replies, visible pain carried in the wake of every soul they’ve lost along their journey, “fighting for a place where we won’t be asked to lose people anymore.” Struck with a chill that lingers as the man steps past her, Jade only raises her voice to ask one further question, quietly acknowledging what they’ve already sacrificed for herself and the compound she takes greater care of than anything else in life. “Is that their decision?” the woman calls back, not wasting a beat in turning around the moment Emilio’s footsteps cease once more, their eyes colliding as she clarifies her question, “or is it yours?” With one foot already placed on the bottom-most step, Emilio’s head takes toward Jade, the silence between them intended to last until an answer is given. With his left hand on the bannister, Emilio’s eyes freeze upon Jade, his expression ever once changing as his voice lifts just loud enough for the woman to hear. “Those are interchangeable now” the man responds, carrying himself the rest of the way up the stairs as he leaves Jade behind, the woman’s posture unchanged as Emilio ascends each step just as he had the one prior, not backing down from his claim- but rather leaving it behind for those other than himself to accept. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “That’s a good boy, Royo” Katie murmurs, patting her horse’s muzzle whilst spraying him with the hose, his soapy hide rinsed of its bubbly coating. Pressed between her hand and the rubber tubing the water pours out from, the cleanser-covered sponge falls to the ground as Katie’s grasp on it slips, her eyes taken toward the dirt road that leads from the main street and to her shared townhouse, a single truck slowly approaching from the distance. Wiping her wet hand at her leg as she takes her rifle into hand, Katie keeps behind her trusted steed in hopes of remaining unnoticed, afforded time if an attack she has no reason to anticipate were to rear its head. “Hold steady, buddy” Katie whispers, lowering herself slightly to fully conceal herself from the vehicle that now slows to a stop, its lights powering down as its gears shift into park, a familiar man emerging from the driver’s seat alone. Made unaware of Katie’s presence at first, Astor steps along the dirt road on his way to the home’s front door, his each step watched by the woman he’s come to talk with from afar. “Are you armed?” Katie calls out from behind Royo’s large frame, immediately prompting the man the turn toward her, his right hand extending toward the air as he reaches for his hip. In a calm motion, Astor presents Katie with his handgun, its barrel pointed toward the sky as he gently lowers it to the ground, casually kicking it off the wooden patio the woman’s home hosts at its entrance. “I used to think you’d get less paranoid once you got comfortable here” Astor quips, his hands subtly returning to his sides as he descends the same steps he’d climbed not minutes prior, his approach toward Katie matched by the woman’s own. “Who said I ever got comfortable?” Katie inquires, keeping her rifle in tow by the strap over her shoulder, her progression forward stopping as she and the man maintain the distance of a few metres. Shrugging in the distance of the St. Lawrence, Astor bobs his head, “I suppose you have been a stubborn ass ever since I’ve met you” he remarks, flashing the woman a smile as his hands slide into each pocket, “maybe I shouldn’t have set my expectations so high.” Her lips held together, Katie presses her tongue into the corner of her mouth as she surveys their surroundings, the open fields filled with near-ready crops for as far as their eyes can reach. “It’s a sunny day in the middle of the summer- there’s plenty the two of us could be doing right now” the woman changes course, her arms crossing as Astor’s smile- though still present- begins to fade from its previously-full stature, “-why take the time out of your day to come here?” Releasing a sigh, Astor’s face drifts into the distance once more before his mouth opens, a slight concern taken to what the woman’s reaction will be. “How much do you care about the people here?” the island’s chosen leader queries, leaving one hand in his pocket and he strolls up to Royo’s side, stroking the side of his head as the question remains unanswered. “I wouldn’t wish a zombie apocalypse on them- does that count?” Katie responds, her arms remaining crossed as her body turns in her superior’s direction, eyes kept upon his person. “I’d say that’s a good start- certainly” Astor ripostes, his eyes pressing closer as he tips his chin forward, a nod given to the younger survivor, “what else?” Confused, yet perceptive to the challenge, Katie lets her hands fall, the woman returning to her prior duties as she reaches for the hose that lays lazily in a patch of mud that now sits topped with a puddle. “I cared enough about getting along with them to try learning French,” the woman remarks, earning a chuckle Astor hides well, his face and shirt splashed with whatever water runs off Royo’s body. “En parlant de quoi, votre français est-il toujours d'actualité ?” Orleans Island’s chief answers back, the corner of his white teeth appearing through the part in his lips. “It’s coming along well enough to know that you’re trying to get at something” Katie abruptly answers back, the playful expression on Astor’s face slightly undoing as she reclaims the conversation’s initial point, “I care about them enough to not want to see them in trouble- so what’s your point?” Quickly tiring of dancing around the conversation’s destination, Katie addresses the elephant in the field outright, scrubbing at Royo’s pelt as Astor’s amused expression lowers, his austere guise reemerging. Staring back to the woman without a word for a few moments, Astor does as requested, hanging his head. “I’m making the call to merge Orleans Island with PEI” Astor confesses, surprising Katie for a few seconds before her rational thinking kicks in, the shocked look on her face swiftly falling in favour of a content nod. “That’s a- that’s a big move” the young woman replies, offering a nod as she finishes swiping at her stallion’s coat, “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Shaking his head, Astor prepares to apologise to the woman, aware of her disinterest long before his decision had been made, though its existence does nothing to dissuade him. “But I want to remind you of the same thing I told that woman back in the ‘States-” Katie interjects, not allowing the man to speak before offering her wishful hopes, “the people you’re walking with- the people that jumped on the chance to rule the ashes of a burned-out world- those people do.” “Gamble’s not with those people” Astor quickly corrects, watching the woman narrow her eyes as they remain attached to him, “-at least, he’s not anymore.” Her head shaking, Katie lets the hose fall from her hand as she reaches toward the clothesline for a dry towel. “That’s not how the New World Order usually does things” Katie replies, drying Royo off as she waits for Astor to quell her confusion. “Is mass murder one of the things they do?” Astor queries, watching the woman’s attendance to her horse stop as she freezes, caught by surprise at his question. “Gamble said they started funnelling survivors into PEI once they took in too many people for the mainland to handle comfortably” the man explains as Katie’s drying of Royo’s hide slowly resumes, “since then- whenever Nova Scotia needs more room in PEI- people go missing.” Her concern raising from a slight amount to something more definite, Katie remains quiet to continue hearing the man’s point, yet to see why it’s any of her concern. “Nova Scotia started housing their cruise ships on the island until recently- when the people in charge realised they were losing support” Astor concludes, following Katie as she circles Royo’s large frame, “now Gamble’s not following their orders, and he’s worried this scuffle’s gonna turn into an outright war soon enough.” “So why choose to join up with the island that seems pretty sure they’re about to lose?” Katie queries, her head tilting to one side as a better question suddenly arises, “-better yet, why are you telling me this?” His eyes rolling, Astor continues to follow the woman around her steed, the towel tossed aside as she reaches for Royo’s leather saddle. “Because Gamble wants to make sure you come along with us” Astor responds, listening to humoured laughter arrive from Katie’s core as the statement lingers. “Ninety percent of this place is made up of people that closed the bridge down when the world took a turn- we don’t have many capable hands to choose from!” the man remarks, at least providing validation to his claims, “and with that said- you’re the only person here who’s seen the outside in the last two years.” “Then find another reliable pair of hands!” Katie lashes back, tossing the saddle atop Royo before turning to speak directly to the man behind, “I’ve fought my wars and made it out alive- standing on the front lines again isn’t something I’m interested in.” Opening his mouth to reply, Astor finds himself thwarted, the woman’s remarks paid to him as a conversation-ender. “The answer’s no, Astor” Katie doubles down, reclaiming Royo’s lead before directing him back to the home, her words still directed toward the leader she leaves behind, “your fight isn’t mine anymore.” | As a crowd of concerned civilians pile onto the grounds of town hall, Lauren remains standing to the side, coping with her grief just as the rest of her group does whilst waiting for events to begin. The clear, blue sky capturing her undivided attention, she drowns out the surrounding banter in favour of numbing herself, passing the time by pretending the concept of it doesn’t exist. At the sensation of a gentle squeeze, Lauren emerges from her intentional-comatose, swinging her face toward the one man that may spark enough joy within her to make the fight through suffering worthwhile. “I think someone’s trying to get your attention” Jack whispers, lowering his face close to his wife’s before diverting it toward a break in the crowd, a familiar visage worn on the person that looks to Lauren’s direction as they wave. Arriving at the town’s centre alone, Grace brushes shoulders with a few of her fellow residents as she makes her way to the devoted couple, her familiarity with either face drastically different. To her left, a woman she’d worked beside for months resides next to a man she’d never once seen before, his expression as forcefully-welcoming as the one his wife wears. Though their friendship had never been the closest thing she’d held dear, Lauren’s genuine joy to see a familiar face not stricken with distress emerges on an unmeasurable scale. Without uttering a word, Lauren steps ahead of Jack and wraps her arms around Grace, pulling the woman in for an unanticipated hug. “Mark this as a first!” Grace remarks, reciprocating the embrace with surprise, not used to her colleague being the friendly type. “When it’s needed- it’s needed” Lauren replies, pulling out from the hold as she steps aside, extending her arm to their third wheel. “I’m Jack- it’s nice to meet you” the man introduces himself, extending the hand the woman proceeds to shake, still greatly disassociated from the pleasantries much of society had forced into normality. “So you’re the man Lauren could never stop talking about?” Grace jokes, giving her friend an impressed nod, “-you didn’t do too bad for yourself, girl!” Appreciative, Lauren offers the woman a smile as a hand presses into both Jack’s and her own lower back, yet another familiar face greeting the small group. “Where’s the rest of you guys?” Emilio wonders aloud, his wrinkled, white t-shirt a product of spending the entirety of the night prior asleep. “They’re helping Clint and Nessie move into their new place-” Jack answers, his eyes squinting prior to the conclusion of his own response, “-why?” His face panning across the crowd, Emilio’s eyes search for another recognisable visage from within the increasingly-cramped crowd. “Because Archie came by after his sister left yesterday- he said you were all supposed to be out here” the man replies, continuing to scan the mass heap of life that collects before him, “-why are you guys here then?” “They already had too many hands helping” Lauren responds, looking past Emilio’s shoulder at the sight of another expression she can pin a name to, finishing her reply before their conversation can be interrupted, “-we figured they’d be better off with fewer people to run into.” His hand gently smacking Emilio on the shoulder, Archie pulls his head in the direction of town hall’s front steps, the building they lead to presented as the obvious centre of attention. “I didn’t come by yesterday out of the good in my heart- that was Jade’s job” Archie remarks, confessing to the ruse he’d set the man up to walk into, “come on- get up there now.” His lip curling, Emilio’s snarl is immediately returned to the oldest McKee son, met with both hands lifting in surrender. “I’m just the messenger- don’t even bother pulling out that gun, quick-shot” Archie remarks, trying to lighten the mood as best he can, “you’ve already done the hardest part. If your eyes are still on Nova Scotia- it should all be smoother sailing from here.” Pressing his eyes together, Emilio watches Cumberland’s commander step through the door’s of town hall, her presence immediately bringing a hush over the crowd. “I may not have swung by yesterday out of the good of my heart, but I’m here now out of it-” Archie doubles down, his voice descending from the tough, no-nonsense reflection it’d carried before, “just get up on the stage, smile and nod- maybe wave a few times- and you’ll keep those tickets to Nova Scotia... But this is your only chance.” Parting his lips without the words to speak with, Emilio glances back toward the staircase as the muscles in his face ease, looking at Archie with a disappointed- yet accepting- frown. Without as much of a ‘see you later’, the man- led to the gathering under false pretences- follows Archie’s lead toward the side of town hall’s entrance, climbing onto their superior’s level from within the cover of shadows. Yet to speak a word, Jade watches her brother guide Emilio toward the inner circle that stands behind her, representing Cumberland’s most-trusted elite in a show of solidarity and respect. “I won’t lie to any of you- what’s been happening over the last few days truly pisses me off” the woman proclaims, her eyes set on those that look to her for clarity in a time of uncertainty. “To have people try to steal our home- everything we’ve worked to build here- it sickens me” Jade continues, both Emilio and her brother left standing with their hands coupled at their lap, joining the front line of saving leadership’s face, “what sickens me more is that I didn’t do enough to stop it.” Though her only reason for holding this conference lies within the task of maintaining a healthy grasp on her power, Jade speaks from a place of truth, her admittance less vague than the circumstances that host it. “But I didn’t ask you out here so I could apologise- I asked you out here so I can make it right to you” she continues, her voice naturally loud enough to be heard without the aid of a microphone and podium, two things that she refuses to keep close. Stood at the front steps of the building she refuses to use on principle, Jade looks to her people without anything to shield herself behind, wanting both metaphorically- and literally- to show those she rules over that there is nothing that separates herself from them. “I wanted you to hear it from me that we’ve not only located those in charge of the people who’d invaded us- but we’ve taken action upon them” she remarks, a few nods given to her below, “-they cannot hurt you anymore.” Though many remain sceptical- and for good reason- a large number of hands begin to slam together, applauding the efforts of the administration their livelihoods depend upon to survive. His own hopes riding on the reception, Emilio’s face takes on a light response, his hands joining those in the crowd as they slowly applaud. Her surveying of those below eventually guiding her sights to those behind her, Jade’s eyes fall upon Emilio, whose applause brings a brief smile over her face, which fixates on the man for a few seconds. As a few additional applauses emerge from below- likely joining out of a desire to fit in- her focus on Emilio takes away from those near the bottom of the steps, watching his face gradually lighten with genuine appreciation before suddenly taking a turn for the worse. At the sound of one round, Emilio’s hand reaches for the weapon on his waist, its barrel taking aim at the baggy clothes-wearing figure as it proceeds to fire a second shot of its own. Operating off the adrenaline of his shock, Emilio’s finger squeezes the trigger before the attacker’s weapon can fire a third bullet, his single round the only thing needed to isolate the situation. Stumbling back, Jade’s hands press against her chest as she struggles for balance, incapable of seeing her assassin’s face before surrendering to the pain. Within seconds, the woman responsible for leading the reunion of Cumberland’s people falls to the ground, her blood pooling onto the stone walkway as her executioner collapses onto the stairs she’d stood atop, shot dead by Emilio’s hand. As screams erupt from below, Jade’s inner circle rushes to her aid, most armed in an effort to prevent a follow-up attack from being launched. With his weapon still in tow on instinct, Emilio departs from the rest of the men and women he’d joined on stage, approaching the scene of the attack as opposed to its aftermath. As he nears closer to the edge, the steps come into vision, the body that lifelessly occupies it laid face-up. His mouth agape, Emilio’s weapon falls the rest of the way to his side, able to recall the woman’s identity the moment her face- lightened by the hot sun above- is presented to him. Speechless, the man rolls his eyes in disbelief as his body turns around completely, walking back to where the elitist line once stood without certainty of how to react. Her grey hoodie and black sweatpants untouched by the bullet wound in the side of her head, Annie’s spread arms come to a rest a short distance from the intended murder weapon, the whites of her eyes shown through her parted eyelids. Already numbed, Emilio’s soul practically flees from his body, unable to process the events still unfolding as a team of paramedics climb to Jade’s aid, risking a second attack he knows will not arrive in an effort to save their leader’s life. Her kindness leaving an impact on him, Emilio’s mind immediately calls her husband’s death into question, the grief left by Jess’ actions having yet to fully play out unbeknownst to him. With empty eyes, Emilio lays himself on the ground before sitting against town hall’s stone exterior, the awe he’s been overcome by drowning all sounds into one, unimportant and easy-to-ignore hum as the shock consumes him. | Travelling light, Katie rides Royo along the mostly-empty freeway as night begins to fall, the sky just light enough for the woman to make out much of her immediate surroundings. The sunset painting the St. Lawrence River in beautiful colours, the young woman guides her stallion through the grass-covered roadway and past abandoned vehicles that once littered her path. The lights on Orleans Island to her back, Katie leaves a life she’d tried to make work behind in favour of greener pastures, disappointed to find her hand forced as it has been, though confident another place worthy of being called ‘home’ will appear to her. “Oh, fuck you” Katie mutters beneath her breath, both eyes taking to the glowstick that waves in the roadway’s centre, the person responsible for making an attempt at collecting her attention deliberately blocking the one path through an assortment of scattered vehicles. As vehicles surround him, the narrow opening between two trucks sit to each of Max’s sides, refusing to allow Katie any further safe voyage. “You couldn’t even say goodbye?” the man jokes, watching Royo slow to a stop as Katie refuses to match his amused demeanour, an obvious annoyance carried within her remarks. “That’s always been the plan” the woman responds, remaining atop her steed as she speaks to the man thwarting her departure. “The moment Astor told me he wasn’t satisfied with isolating the island- I knew this place wouldn’t last” Katie explains, not pulling punches with her honesty, “had I known that sooner, I would’ve never gotten close to any of you. Hell- I wouldn’t have even left Toronto.” “And even after that- you stayed” Max counters, the response carrying enough truth for his roommate to find difficulty arguing. “Yeah, I stayed. I’m sorry for having thought I could talk some sense into the man- it’s my bad” Katie replies, shrugging her shoulders as her intentions remain intact, “but now I’m correcting it. I’m leaving, and I’m doing so without putting up a fight. If you wanna go north, that’s fine by me- but I’m not taking part in a war I’ve got no interest in.” “You do have interest in it” Max swiftly argues back, watching the woman’s face contort with befuddlement, curious for elaboration. “You stayed at Orleans because- if Astor wasn’t as interested in making friends- you knew it was a suitable place to stay permanently” the man continues, taking one step out from the blockade’s opening, “that’s why you chose not to stay in Toronto. You may have had a whole compound to yourself- unfinished or not- but you knew there was something better.” “You’re not making a point, Max” Katie unapologetically informs, her eyes rolling as she waits for the man to finish speaking, only interested in making it off the freeway before the sun sets. “Yeah, I am. You’re not leaving us because there’s somewhere better- you’re leaving because you don’t like the choice we’re making” the man replies, Royo’s jockey not refusing his conclusion. “Because it’s gonna get you all killed!” Katie snaps back, her patience dwindling the further the dying bulb in the sky sinks beneath the river’s surface, “I don’t get why you’re all so willing to die for these people, but I’m not! So please, move out of my way.” His expression reading defeat, Max’s head hangs as the woman waits for his response, much of the argument he can offer falling aside at her verbal refusal. Looking to the ground, the man steps out from the sea of cars, freeing the narrow path for his friend to traverse, not offering anything more than his disappointed expression as a ‘goodbye.’ Matching the sentiment, Katie guides Royo onward, his legs gently navigating the split in the graveyard of automobiles at his rider’s command, leaving the large man that had impeded his progress behind. Her journeys having taken her down this road many times before, Katie’s eyes press together as she allows her beloved companion navigate the route on his own, a lingering thought in the back of her mind believing that she’d yet to escape Orleans Island the way it appears she has. “I lost my brother and sister trying to get here” Max calls out, immediately drawing a sigh from deep within the woman as she beckons Royo to a halt, her eyelids parting as her horse turns around. “We heard about a place in Concord when everything started- spent a few weeks coming up from Springfield to get there” Max recalls, his eyes still kept toward the ground as Katie watches him, trying not to let her sympathy outweigh her better judgement. “When Neville died, everything started falling apart. The people that stepped up couldn’t get control and everyone started fighting” the man continues, unable to see the snarl in Katie’s lip, “that’s when I lost my little brother. It wasn’t long after that when we found out about people in Quebec- my sister figured it was worth a shot.” Swallowing her pride, Katie glances in the direction behind her, watching the gradual darkening of the sky settle in faster, the light yellow glow it’d taken on turning to a dark, citrusy-orange. “I can already guess where you’re going with this” the woman remarks, trying to maintain her emotional distance by putting on an undisturbed visage. “You really don’t” Max responds, finally turning his head to look the young woman in her eyes, his own drawing closer together as the haunting memories make their return to the surface. “Blaise and Aude were with us too. They’d been vacationing in White Mountains when shit hit the fan- so they found their way to Concord” the man continues, the twist admittedly catching Katie by surprise, “when the talk about Quebec came around, they cast their vote. So we- and a few others- started north.” Her stoic poise falling, Katie’s rigid demeanour begins to fall, replaced with a genuine distaste for each new, more harrowing twist. “We ran into a group when we were crossing the border- and that’s where I lost my sister” Max remarks, successfully keeping back tears as his face takes on a vengeful wrath, “Blaise and Aude aren’t convinced but I know- I know it was the people you talk about... The people in Nova Scotia.” Her breath stolen, Katie pulls her head back whilst Max shakes his own, a quiet rage held within his remarks she’d never known him to be capable of. Spitting on the overgrowth-covered asphalt, the man glances toward the sunset with a sour expression as the sweat trickles off the side of his face. “Why go along with Astor’s plan?” Katie questions aloud, watching the man silently redirect his attention upon her, “why would he even want to contact Nova Scotia if he knows what they did to you?” “Because he doesn’t- all we told him was that a few thugs shot at us, stole our shit, and killed my sister” Max quickly replies, an angered grin appearing through his lips. “Besides, if it were Nova Scotia that found us, I’d finally get a shot at having my revenge- even if I had to die for it” the man continues, doubling down on his remarks without daring to talk himself out of it, “but since it’s these people instead? Revenge isn’t a suicide mission- it’s my way forward.” Her head hanging, Katie lets the man’s words sink in before his voice catches her ear once more, her conscience prodded further. “I thought you’d know better than anyone else-” Max remarks, beginning to pull away as he makes peace with the woman’s decision, his feet carrying him back in the direction of Orleans Island as he takes a pause, subduing a weep at the thought of being the only one with such thoughts, “-how it feels to want revenge on the people that killed your family.” | His right foot repeatedly tapping against the linoleum tiles, Emilio’s eyes keep toward the frantic waiting room as his hands sit in his lap, more still than a surgeon’s mid-operation. All other seats already occupied, Jack and Lauren lean against each other a few metres to his side, the nine-fingered man’s arms wrapped around his wife’s waist as the second hand on the mounted analog clock. Paying little mind to the chaos that surrounds him, Emilio remains hunched over, his elbows pressing against his thighs as his mind wanders elsewhere, leaving behind an expression of great discouragement. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” Angela wonders aloud, her question subdued slightly as her gaze is shared through the room, the rest of her group left waiting in a similar fashion as their leader, quiet and distant, anxiously waiting for information they haven’t already been given. “She took two bullets to the chest” Franklin murmurs, his left arm used as a pillow for his wife’s head to rest upon, her eyes closed and face relaxed, “-it’s a miracle she made it into surgery.” Lips pressed together, Emilio listens to the conversation that happens around him, the early hours of the morning setting in as the sun appears upon the horizon, signalling a day separate from one of eventful proportions the day prior. “I don’t see the point in speculation” Salem remarks, all eyes aside from Emilio and Alicia’s taking toward her direction, “we’re better off figuring out where we go from here- like, what happens to our agreement if she doesn’t pull through.” His shoulders shrugging, Clint looks to the woman in confusion, “I thought they all made that call- not just Jade.” “It was a Jade call” Emilio responds, cutting through the conversation as he becomes the discourse’s focus, “the McKee’s may honour it, but the call exists as long as Jade does.” Her rifle resting against the wall just to the side, Salem steps closer into the room’s centre, her eyes kept on the man ahead as she speaks. “Just to be safe- let’s cover all of our bases” the woman remarks, her arms remaining hung by each side as she comes to a stop, the question of the hour left for Emilio to answer, “-what happens if they don’t?” “Then we stay here until we earn our ticket” their leader swiftly replies, his head casually shaking as his eyes drift toward the distance, his response offered in a nonchalant manner. “Some of us may never get there that way” Jack remarks, his chin resting on the back of Lauren’s neck, “the only guarantee we have is Alicia and Fra-” Interrupted by the sound of emerging life, Jack falls silent as Archie steps through the doors of the surgical unit, his entry bringing an instant hush over the small, yet packed waiting area. His eyes puffy and red, the skin around them as pale as the rest of his face, Jade’s older brother comes to a rest halfway through the door, one hand extended to hold the barrier open as he collects his bearings. A long breath drawn outward, Archie runs his fingers through his hair- its length growing to the point of needing a trim- as his words cut through the silence like a pair of scissors to paper. “She got lucky” the man murmurs, the update he offers purposefully kept simple and brief before his face takes to Emilio, “she’s asking for you.” His eyebrows furrowing momentarily, Emilio takes a look toward the rest of his group before answering the request, leaving his chair with a navy baseball cap in his grasp. Joining Archie at the surgical centre’s wing, the more-affirmed man squeezes through the opening between his friend and the door before venturing through the wing, his eyes peering into each room as Jade’s brother remains where he’d left off, taking in a wave of relief at the wing’s exit. After a few short minutes of wandering, Emilio arrives at his destination, the first steps he takes when entering the recovery room drawing the wounded warrior’s attention. “My brothers said you were waiting for me” Jade remarks, her voice frail as its assertion wanes, both Isaac and Oliver sat in respective chairs at the room’s end, watching over their older sister with care. “You can’t really fault me for being concerned” Emilio answers, refusing to concern himself with the sensation of uneasiness that threatens to swallow him as he takes a seat near the woman’s beside. “I appreciate it nonetheless” Jade replies, the blanket pulled up to her hip’s level as the johnny gown covers the rest of her surgically-restored body, “it’s difficult remembering how people used to be sometimes- even when you’ve sort of never left it.” Squinting, Emilio’s head nods as he crosses one leg over the other, his hands coupling together atop his lap. “Seeing it from our perspective doesn’t make it any better” the man reassures, his eyes falling toward his hands as he fishes for the right words within his head, “I forgot how long it took me to not reach for my axe every time I rolled out of bed.” “It’s like once you see how it works outside- you can’t see things the same way anymore, isn’t it?” Jade ripostes, a gesture that earns Emilio’s full attention once more. As a disheartened grin comes over his face, the man’s head falls back toward his lap, his eyes wandering over the paired hands. “When we were back at the New World Order, John told Bill and I something- right when everything was falling apart- that I didn’t understand until now” Emilio remarks, taking a few additional seconds before restoring eye contact with the injured commander beside him. “He said ‘they’re not salvageable’- our people, they- they started killing each other” the man explains, the recollection horrifying him, “I always thought I knew what he was saying- and I always thought he was wrong.” Squinting, Jade keeps herself quiet, not wishing to impede the man from finishing his thought, too invested in the story to put an abrupt halt to it. “I used to think he meant the people inside of the compound- the ones that hadn’t been exposed to what happened out there- and maybe he was” Emilio explains, each eye growing watery as he looks his acquaintance in the eyes, his head shaking, “but I’ve started to think he was trying to tell us something... more” Following their sister’s lead, Isaac and Oliver remain respective observers, allowing the conversation to take part without them despite the brief glances Emilio pays toward their direction. “When they locked me up on that island- right after we found Sun City- I started wondering if he was just talking about people in general” the man goes on, reluctant to finish his thoughts out of fear that he’ll break the final line of denial he retains, though adamant that he must. “I thought he was wrong. I thought the people in the New World Order were salvageable- I thought anyone was salvageable” Emilio concludes, his head tilted toward one side as a single tear runs down the side of his face, forcing himself to continue, “but then I figured out what he actually meant.” Having assumed the man’s options had already depleted, Jade allows the third possibility to be spoken into existence, still uncompromising in her acceptance of his pace. “He was trying to protect them- just like he always did. He was telling himself- all the way up to the end- that, just because they’d seen evil, it didn’t mean they couldn’t unsee it” Emilio finishes, swiping the tear from his skin as his head shakes once more, “but he was wrong.” Exhaling, Jade’s eyes lower as she raises the question that lingers on her mind, “what are you saying, Emilio?” A look content coming over his visage, the man rests back in his seat as his arms fall upon the sides of his chair, “I’m trying to do what John did for them- for us-” Emilio responds, doing right by the past by taking its lessons to the future, “I’m warning you that- the Cumberland you knew two weeks ago... is not the Cumberland you’ll ever see again.” Raising slightly, Jade’s chin takes toward the air as her head presses further into her pillow, goosebumps noticeably forming on her arms and legs as a chill follows her spine as if it were a route. Her lips pressing together, Cumberland’s leader lets Emilio’s declaration settle as he leaves the seat beside her, departing the way he’d arrived as the omen lingers like a bad mood, striking fear into the hearts of the McKee family whilst offering them a chance to know what declination may spark. == Rise ==
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Her shoulder pressing into the wall that forms the arch between her living room and kitchen, Jade’s eyes cement themselves upon the focused gathering that eagerly anticipates what they know is about to unfold. Comfortably resting against Jack’s side, Lauren’s hand gently rubs the point of her husband’s knee, maintaining a reassuring smile toward the couple across the room from them.
Appreciative, Franklin bows his head in the woman’s direction, his halved-arm resting upon the lower back of his child’s soon-to-be mother. His own head subtly nodding toward the ground, Jack sets his sights on the siblings, who stand near the first family of the settlement they’ve newly become acquainted with, both Jade and Isaac occupying a seat on the staircase a few metres beside Clint and Nessie. His own confidence less secure, Clint looks to the man with narrowed eyes, incapable of presenting a look of solace in good faith. “Does anyone need a refresher on the plan?” Emilio blurts aloud, descending from the home’s second level with Salem in tow, Archie’s bruised and bloodied face not far behind, walking as if nothing were wrong. Collective silence offered by those that occupy 18 Rawson, the answer to Emilio’s question becomes clear, a complete understanding of their assignment held. “Alright” the man remarks, gracefully patting Jade on the shoulder as he passes, returning to the home’s spacious, filled foyer. Before long, Jack’s ears follow his wife’s attention, the rest of the group soon to follow as engine’s begin to pierce through the silence of post-midnight, their driver’s setting upon one central square. Placing his eyes in the room’s centre, Jack bows his head in Emilio’s direction, ushering the start of their ultimate fight for unity. Through anger, Jack leads a cloaked figure into the home’s parkway, the man’s hands bound behind his back as the victim leans forward, simply placing his feet where his captor demands of him. “Where’s Rocky?” Franklin inquires, both he and Lauren the next to exit the home, Emilio, and Angela following closely behind. “On his way- who are they?” an unfamiliar man queries, armed with an automatic rifle as his baggy clothes flail in the wind, almost as if they weren’t his at all. Almost on command, Salem follows Clint and Nessie through the doors of 18 Rawson, their own rifles carried as Jess, Heather and Amy emerge soon after. “We don’t need Rocky to follow through on his promise anymore- we found the people we were looking for” Jack explains, guiding the cloaked-Archie to his knees on the rough asphalt. “What deal?” a second, also unfamiliar intruder questions, his voice slightly raised from that of the first person. “We got you the guns you stormed these walls with. In return, Rocky promised us the next trip to Nova Scotia” Jack answers, ripping the sack from Archie’s head before discarding it on the ground, “that’s where we were supposed to reunite with our group. Now that we’ve found them, we don’t need those greedy pricks up north anymore.” “Who the fuck is this?” the first loudmouth exclaims, directing the barrel of his gun toward the pavement in front of Archie, a scowl worn across his face. “I’ll answer that question when Rocky gets here” Jack replies, resting his hand on the grip of the firearm that resides by his hip. “I’m the one that asked the question- answer it” the unkempt Rockford resident remarks, prompting the content expression on Jack’s face to slowly deteriorate, replaced with a look of irritation. The air between them silent, Jack leans his head toward one shoulder as he eyes the man ahead, a brief smirk appearing in the corner of his mouth. Uninterested in offering a warning, Jack takes the firearm from his side and fires a single round, the brass jacket he shoots ripping through the man’s cheekbone without concern. His brains scrambled, the man tries to aim his weapon forward, though his motor functions refuse him the chance, his brain yet to comprehend the head trauma he’d suffered. To a silenced crowd, the man at Rockford’s forefront collapses into a heap on the ground, the hole in the back of his head allowing blood to pool around his scrambled cranium. His pistol-wielding hand lowering slightly, Jack takes one step forward and sets his eyes on the crowd’s remainder, most unsure of how to react. “We just took over this compound. Do you really want to test us?” the man inquires, illustrating his point in resounding fashion, those who dare question him left to think twice. His display interrupted only by the sound of heavy exhaust pipes pulling around the corner, Jack’s attention shares the focus of those he sides with, watching the bright lights of their anticipated eighteen wheeler near close. As the large wheels slow to a stop, Jack redirects the aim of his pistol to the air, his finger pulling the trigger three times as he fires a trifecta of rounds into the dark sky of an extremely early morning. “That’s the signal- get in position!” Jade hisses, huddled in the home’s veiled corners as her hands flail in differing directions, marshalling smaller groups of armed patrolmen in different paths. “Jade, this is a bad idea- you should be inside with Alicia and the rest” Isaac remarks, earning an appreciative smile and pat on the shoulder from his relative, her rifle thrown over one shoulder. “I’ll be right back here by sunrise” Jade murmurs, prepared for what is to come. Opening his driver’s side entrance, Rocky peers his head over the top of his truck's door, passing a smirk toward the men and woman he’d spent the last number of weeks getting to know. “What’s all of this?” the grey-haired man inquires, crossing his arms atop the door’s crest as his head leans forward, his loud voice echoing as it’s carried toward the curious scene ahead. “A solution to both of our problems” Jack answers, assuredly stepping around Archie as he approaches the rig with caution, partially using his own body to shield his offering from stray gunfire. “We started this fight, and now we’re ending it” Jack explains, reupholstering his handgun as he marches toward Rockford’s frontline, “we wanted our fair share- now we have it.” “And what about your problem?” Rocky swiftly calls out, harkening on the second half of the man’s claims with intrigue, his shoulders jutting outward, “how exactly did you solve that one?” His lip curling, Jack notices Rocky’s uninterest in his speech, the promises of prosperity and fables of fortune he presents Rockford with not appearing as genuine to the invasive settlement’s highest power. “We found our people here” Jack answers, jutting his chin toward the faces yet to imprint themselves upon Rocky’s mind, the people it had been so important to reach Nova Scotia in search of now stood by, armed to the teeth. “We gave you those guns for the first trip to Nova Scotia- now we don’t need it” Jack explains, letting his hands hang by each side as Rocky watches on, hesitant to buy into the claims being made. “And how the hell did you manage to take this whole thing over?” Rocky inquires curiously, the open window allowing him to use the door’s opening as a stepladder to the cabin’s roof, where he occupies a seat as the conversation persists. “Because we’ve been together since the dead rose. Everyone that you see behind me- old faces and new ones- we’ve been together since the start” Jack replies, both thumbs sliding into his jean pockets. “And you just convinced them to turn on their home?” Rocky continues to challenge, hiding his doubt in Jack’s claims less than before, aware of where the balance in power lies. “You don’t have to believe me, but I haven’t lied to you before” the younger man counters, watching Rocky wrap his fingers around a long, thick yellow rope, its leash leading directly toward the truck’s behind. “As a matter of fact- I don’t believe you” Rocky ripostes, glancing toward the mirror on his driver’s side door as his head shakes. Though a great distance away, Jack keeps a clear view of Rocky with a minor squint in his eye, watching the man glance toward his side with curiosity. Silently, Jack trails his glance toward the rig’s rear, able to see a small, yet noticeable fleet of Jade’s men briefly exposed for all to see as they dash through a strip of moonlight unshielded by the trees. In a moment of worry, the altercation’s presumed lead figure returns his sights to Rocky, taking immediate notice of the man’s grin. “Open fire!” Jack exclaims, not wasting his breath as he unsheathes his weapon, dashing to Lauren’s side as he opens fire on the unsuspecting Rockford fleet. Beaten to the punch of presenting hostility, Rocky harshly tugs at the rope as he slides off the cabin’s roof, safely reaching the ground before hurrying for cover with the remainder of his flock. Led by the opposite end of the rope, the rig’s trailer door lifts from its closure, exposing the depths of the hauler to the small counterattack Cumberland had quietly prepared to Rockford’s back. “AARRGGHH!” the trailer soon hisses, spilling dozens of the undead from its confines, their collective sights set on Cumberland’s counterforce, prompting the secretive group to present themselves and open fire. Spilling out from the treeline, Cumberland’s forces surround those responsible for turning the settlement upon its head, spilling blood throughout 18 Rawson’s paved parkway in the name of liberation. Hurrying to cover, Jack and Lauren claim a small side of the home’s exterior as a barricade, regrouping as the rest of their militia follows suit. “Jack!” Franklin exclaims, ducking behind the McKee’s parked truck in search of refuge. At the mere mention of his name, Jack springs from cover and empties his clip in the direction of enemy forces, answering the call he’d understood as Franklin requesting cover fire. With ease, the couple’s towering friend reaches safe haven, joining Jack and Lauren in reprieve from the cover fire. “Get back to Alicia, we’ll take over from here!” Jack directs, pushing a hesitant Franklin in the shoulder to usher him back into the home, the fight that rages in need of friendly hands. “He’s making a break for it!” Salem barks, retaining her cover as she fires into the treeline, only able to connect her rounds with the wooden logs Rocky uses for cover on his entry to total darkness. “I don’t have a shot on him!” Salem defeatedly cries, ducking back behind cover as she reloads, making way for Nessie to leave the safety of her asphalt cover. With Clint following closely behind, Nessie charges through the warzone with minimal need to open fire on the lessening front of Rockford as it makes a final stand. “Where are you going!?” Emilio shouts aloud, receiving no answer from the siblings as they vanish into the woods, giving chase to the man responsible for Cumberland’s uproar. “Frank!” Heather exclaims, shielding Amy against her black and red flannel-covered chest as she hurries toward the front door, leaving the young girl in the man’s possession. “I’m going after the siblings!” Heather explains, returning Amy’s gun to the large man’s hand, “keep Amy here- don’t let her leave!” The scene too disordered for the man to offer much of a refusal, Franklin nods his head as Heather charges out from cover, dashing through the battleground as Jack and Lauren prepare for the next round of their fight. Racing to the window, Amy peers through the glass to watch her parental figure descend upon the woodlands. “Amy, honey- get away from the window!” Alicia calls, motioning for the young girl to join herself and Franklin on the home’s second level, a call Amy nearly accepts in the nick of time. Passing a final glance through the home’s viewfinder, Amy watches a second familiar figure follow Heather’s lead through the woodland’s entrance, the newly-brunette hairs that shine in the moonlight striking immediate fear within the young girl. Without warning, Amy charges through the living room and rips her revolver from Franklin’s hand, disregarding Heather’s advice as she hurries through the exit of 18 Rawson. “Amy!” Lauren shouts, attempting to reach for the girl before coming up short, the Callis’ daughter making it a few metres further before falling into Emilio’s grasp. “Amy, get back in the house!” Emilio exclaims, pulling the girl away from open fire as bullets continue to fly, his protective instincts kicking in. “My mom’s gonna hurt Heather!” Amy sharply exclaims, ripping herself free of Emilio’s grasp before selflessly throwing herself into the battlefield. Saving her ammunition, Amy dips into the forest as Emilio gives chase, hurrying after the young girl whilst Jack and Lauren make their final ascent on the property’s tree-covered backdrop. Following the lead of their peers, Salem and Angela finish off the group’s rotation as they hurry into the woodlands, allowing Cumberland’s armed forces to finish the job they leave behind in favour of putting a dagger in Rockford’s revolution, joining their people in nailing Rocky’s coffin shut. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “Amy!” Emilio bellows at the top of his lungs, leaping over obstructions that hang low to the ground as he follows the short figure he can barely make out the shadow of beneath the dead of night. “Amy! Wait!” the man continues, his quest differing from that of his group’s, the gunshots that pierce the air in the very near distance failing to prevent him from keeping up with the child’s surprisingly quick pace. Though her deceptively fast pace keeps Emilio on his toes, Amy’s stubby little legs prevent her from outrunning the man that follows her closely, his refusal to fall back foils her escape. “Amy, stop!” Emilio shouts, continuing to run as he slips his hands between the small of the young girl’s arms, lifting her off the ground as he continues rushing ahead, only slowing once his target has fully left the ground. “Let me go! She’s gonna hurt Heather!” Amy barks, trying to squirm free of her captor’s possession, her arms and legs flailing as she desperately attempts to free herself. “Who’s going to hurt Heather!? What are you talking about!?” Emilio queries, falling to his knees as he presses the small child into the ground, unable to confidently secure her in mid-air any longer. “My mom! She’s gonna hurt Heather!” Amy reiterates, digging her fragile fingers into the soft, loose dirt in an effort to claw her way to freedom. “Why would your mother wanna hurt Heather!?” Emilio asks once more, finally easing his grasp on the small being, allowing her to again climb to her feet and begin running. “She’s gonna-!” Amy barks again, readying her firearm for use once more before a distant scream catches her ear, dragging her attention to the side as her scurry momentarily ceases. “Mom!” Amy exclaims, her eyes widened as her face is partially illuminated by the light that breaks through the leaves of trees above. “Amy, come bac-!” Emilio shouts, desperate to catch his breath as he begins running again, attempting to keep up with the child before the air is ripped from his lungs. Mid-run, Emilio’s body weight shifts to the side, crashing into the ground at the impact of a grown man catching him by surprise, both arms wrapped around Amy’s overseer as he’s tackled. “You fucks took our shit!” a heavy man barks, swinging his fist toward Emilio’s face with a force derived from sheer rage, catching the downed leader with a right hand. Barely acknowledging the punch’s effect, Emilio wraps his hands around the collar of his attacker’s shirt and thrusts his head forward to great effect, the weight he feels pressing upon him alleviated with one move. Dragging himself out from beneath his assailant, Emilio couples his arms together and shields his face, hit with an unexpected flash of light that catches him in the eyes. Within the same moment, a single bullet fires through the woodlands, immediately dragging a groan from the hefty figure Emilio had nearly been smothered beneath seconds prior. Ducking low to the ground, Emilio lowers his arms and gazes upon the large man with the round stomach, his right hand pressing against the wound that had just ripped through his chest. With wide eyes, the man’s face glances into Emilio’s, his visage one the capable survivor had never seen before, though the look in his aggressor's eyes is one that needs little explanation. Panicked and afraid, the fat man’s widened eyes fall upon Emilio, the bloodstain his hand covers only growing as it further stains his grey shirt. Without warning, a second bullet rips through the obese raider’s skull with great effect, immediately splattering his brain matter along the ground that his hefty frame soon crashes into, the threat of his presence alleviated with great effect. “Are you good!?” Jade’s friendly voice worriedly exclaims, the light she aims in Emilio’s direction presenting her with the man’s shocked expression. “Wh- which!? Which way did Amy go!?” Emilio remarks concerningly, looking to the ground for a few moments before an additional gunshot ruptures the sky, its sound resonating in the direction he’d initially chased the young girl toward. “Emilio!” Jade calls out, watching the man hurry toward the sound of hellfire without as much as a ‘goodbye’, her instincts kicking in as she reholsters her weapon and gives chase, following the sound of Emilio’s footsteps further into the uncertain terrain. | Huffing for a new breath with every step, Heather focuses on the topography ahead, making out barely visible glimpses at debris that lines her route in hopes of maintaining her momentum. As a break nears in the trees, Heather presses onward, crashing into the trunk of a large tree as she approaches a clearing in the forest, a chunk of her flannel sleeve tearing as her arm grazes a low-hanging branch. To her dismay, Heather’s search comes to a disappointing conclusion, the clearing she’d hoped would offer her insight to the target’s whereabouts proving to be a let down, nothing more than a near-circular patch of overgrown grass brightened by the unobstructed moon directly above. As her breaths grow quieter, Heather’s optimistic hopes become rejuvenated, her ears taking to the route she’d hurried down as a second set of footsteps draws close. With her weapon in hand, Heather takes aim at the break in the trees she’d scampered through and begins to wait, prepared to fire at the first sign of danger that presents itself to her. “Don’t shoot, it’s me!” Jess’ voice proclaims, her extended hands the first to catch the moonlight’s glow as they lead her into the open space, the woman’s exhausted gasps for air the first thing to follow her declaration. “Were you following me?” Heather inquires, her eyes kept steadily upon the hunched-forward woman, the front of her white tank top stained with sweat. “I thought you were going after the guy” Jess sighs, continuing to fight for each new breath as her hands press into her knees, offering herself the chance to collect her bearings. “Why not follow someone else?” Heather challenges, the hairs on her neck reacting to the situation appropriately, just as sceptical to the claims Jess makes as Heather herself is. “You were the last person to chase him before me- why? Is it a crime to follow you in the woods?” Jess queries, flashing the woman a smile as her sarcastic remark concludes, met with a silence that draws intrigue from the Callis family matriarch. Slowly collecting herself, Jess pushes herself upright, her eyes squinting as gunshots continue ringing in the distance, her attention not belonging to the sounds of war that surround her, but to the weapon that remains readied by Heather’s side. “You wanna put that gun away?” Jess calmly wonders aloud, looking into Heather’s eyes to find immediate distrust, an expression she can recognise all too well. “Not really” Heather ripostes with equal poise, her straightened arm prepared to pull upward if necessary, the finger she rests beside the trigger guard set to fire if the occasion calls for it. Gently nodding, Jess presses her teeth into the flesh of her top lip as her palms present themselves to the woman across from her, both hands raised in a show of surrender. “I’m not the enemy here, Heather” Jess explains, understanding that the woman she stares down has little good will toward her, “I don’t know what you think this is- but-” “I know exactly what this is” Heather interrupts, lifting her weapon in Jess’ direction, her finger having relocated to the trigger. Holding back a deep inhale, Jess raises her hands higher, her chin lifting further upward as the distant bullets slowly begin to cease. “Heather, listen to me- I get why you don’t trust me- I do” Jess ripostes, her voice lowering to a much more gentle tone, softly presenting her case to her fellow survivor, “I don’t have to like it in order to get used to sharing-” “Did you kill Ameil?” Heather interjects, cutting Jess’ elucidation short as her hand remains steady, the question that lingers without an answer catching Amy’s mother by surprise. “Wh- what?” Jess replies, scrunching her face as her eyes squint forward, the woman’s approach continuing in spite of the situation that presents itself to her. “You killed Ameil- didn’t you?” Heather repeats, jutting the barrel of her weapon in Jess’ direction as the question remains unanswered. “It didn’t click with me until the other night, but I didn’t want to believe it” Heather confesses, voluntarily stepping closer to the once-blonde survivor she’d once considered a close friend, “but you knowing about Cumberland- knowing about the family rule?- the way you’ve treated me up to now, well that- that feels off.” Pressing her lips together, Jess straightens herself out, her squinted eyes easing as she settles into her place, dropping the act of innocence as Heather inches closer. “Mmm” Jess sighs, her hands falling to each side as she subtly nods her head, “-yeah. Yeah, I killed Ameil.” Playing her cards effectively, Jess uses her revelation as bait to lower Heather’s guard, opening the chance for the dangerous survivor to lunge forward, swatting the gun out of her opponent’s hand before throwing her weight against the woman’s chest. Disarmed, Heather acts on instinct alone, wrapping her arms around Jess as the woman crashes against her, using her aggressor’s velocity as a weapon to her own advantage. Her body crashing into the grass, Heather’s grasp on the Callis matriarch is thwarted as the grown woman breaks free, wrestling Heather for a superior position as their collective reach stretches toward the unclaimed firearm. Their brief struggle forced to end, Jess focuses her efforts on overwhelming Heather, taking her open palms to the woman’s throat in an attempt to choke her into unconsciousness. Desperation kicking in, Amy’s caregiver puts her knee into Jess’ ribs, freeing herself from the fate of suffocation as her attacker climbs off, sights set elsewhere. Struggling to her feet, Heather listens to the mechanisms jostling in her weapon from a short distance away, the shadow her body casts on the ground colliding with Jess’ own, the difference between them being the handgun that rests in the hand of the opposite woman. Knowing obedience will only allow Jess a cleaner crime, Heather follows the gun woman's lead, lunging toward Jess in a poor effort of disarming her. With the swing of her hand, Jess lays the stock of her weapon into the side of Heather’s head, dropping the woman to the ground as she shouts in pain, her face pressing into the blades of grass. “She’s not your daughter!” Jess exclaims, resting her finger on the trigger as she takes aim at Heather’s head, the woman below turning her head to look the murderer in the eyes, “I’m not letting you take her from!- Argh!” Her small finger squeezing the trigger, Amy fires a bullet into the small of her mother’s back, neutralising her in a moment of terror and fear. “Amy” Jess sighs, falling to a knee as she watches her daughter rush past through the strands of hair that hang before her face, seeking the embrace of the woman Jess had threatened to put down. “Amy, don’t!” the girl’s mother cries, reaching her hand toward her daughter before pulling her reach back, unable to extend her limb too far without the bullet wound triggering a sharp, stinging pain throughout her body. “She’s not your mother!” Jess grunts, trying to return to a standing position as Heather’s arms cradle Amy tightly, reclaiming the girl as her own before hurrying into the night, hoping to avoid the wrath of a woman pushed too far past her breaking point. Watching the pair dash through the treeline once more, Jess musters the strength to give chase, forcing herself to fight through the excruciating anguish as she reclaims her firearm, storming off into the night with her mind set on reclaiming what belongs to her. | “Stop running so far ahead!” Jack proclaims, his wife’s silhouette easier to watch stray further ahead as the sky begins to lighten, a new day’s dawn appearing just beyond the horizon. “Keep up!” Lauren ripostes, shining a small light toward the dense coppice ahead, its minimal effect more than noticeable beneath the night. As instructed, Jack grits his teeth and increases his pace, dragging his feet through patches of dirt before leaping over the branches and roots that occupy the ground beneath him. Unsteady as it rests within her swinging hand, the light they brighten the immediate area with swipes across the air ahead, incapable of staying still for longer than a lonely second. “Fuck you!” a familiar, no-nonsense voice grunts to the couple’s far left, their journey immediately coming to a rest as their collective eyes take to the direction. “Was that-?” Jack begins to wonder aloud, gasping for air as he rejoins with Lauren, his inquiry halted at the sound of two gunshots that ring out in the same direction, causing need for concern. The gun she pulls the trigger of knocked from her grasp, Nessie finds herself overwhelmed by the small gaggle of intruders that surround her, brutalising the woman that threatens their attempt at escape. Only a few metres away, Clint’s predicament proves not to be much better, his ribs and head targeted by a swarm of paranoid trespassers as he lays on the ground, helpless to fight back as kicks rain down upon him. Trying desperately to fight back, Nessie feels her fight give in, each shove stealing the wind from her lungs before finally joining her brother on the ground, coming upon incredibly dire straits. Though heavily beaten, Nessie’s attempts to return to her feet persist, her hands pressing into the ground as her brother’s groans become more audible, the vicious attack he suffers only further fueling the woman’s starved counterassault. “Fuckin’ finish them off!” Rocky commands, listening to his servants wail upon those he’d once considered close enough to join at the frontlines of war, the only allegiance he has left shared with his desire to outrun the consequences of his actions. The only one of five aggressors to notice the need for immediate action, one man unnoticeably dissimilar from the rest of his flock unsheathes a knife, putting aside the child-like joy in his assault in favour of recognising the need for action. “Come on, finish them off already!” Rocky orders, seemingly offering the magic words that lead the knife-wielding marauder into action, his hand reaching toward the conquered sibling below. Pulling his arm back, Nessie’s assailant prepares to swing his knife forward, swiping through the air with deadly intent before his body’s weight shifts, the control in his arm completely lost as a great force crashes into his back and sends him flying across the debris-covered campground. With a gun in hand, Lauren shines her flashlight in the face of the three men that gather around Clint and opens fire, piercing each of their skulls with the pull of her trigger as her husband hurls himself through the air, shoving Nessie’s first accoster to the ground before setting his sights on the second. A great violence awoken within him, Jack’s protective nature presents itself without the need for warning, his sights taken toward the second, much less well-built man that had accompanied Rocky’s efforts. Thrusting his head forward, Jack’s skull collides with the bridge of the second man’s nose, immediately thwarting any counterattack the opposing forces may have been capable of distributing. Stood still with his hands by each side, Jack grits his teeth as he looks to the side, able to make out the slightest features of Rocky’s face in spite of the near-empty sky above. Returning to his feet, the first aggressor readies his knife for a second attack, plunging his hand through the air in the hopes of catching the well-intentioned man off guard to great failure. Wrapping his hand around the man’s wrist, Jack slides his palm over the man’s hand as he steps aside, stealing the blade from the assailant’s hand before tripping him toward the ground once more. Able to see Nessie’s figure crawl to her brother’s aid, the man’s blood lust only grows deeper, his vision clouded by a foggy haze of red as he eyes the larger attacker, his blade prepared. As if he were a butcher, Lauren’s husband takes the knife to the overweight adversary with ease, slashing at the man’s neck and chest, then following him to the ground as he collapses. With one final plunge, the man drives his blade into the large flock member’s chest cavity before turning upon the initial assailant, driving his knife into the second man’s stomach without an inch of reluctance or remorse. “Jac-!” Lauren exclaims, her exclamation abruptly cut short at the sound of a feverish grunt, the rasp behind the voice providing Jack with a face to invoke images of. The air taken from her, Lauren’s firearm and flashlight fall to the ground as she’s taken down, struck in the face by the solid right hand of Rockford’s once leader. His head spinning to face his wife’s direction, Jack leaves the second aggressor’s side in favour of the man that catches him by surprise. As the side of his face is battered with the handgun’s grip, Jack eats the blow and dares Rocky to deal another, the older man answering the request by raising the weapon’s barrel toward his head. *pop* Ripping through the trees, a bullet sores from beyond the campground’s scene and tears through Rocky’s forearm, not only providing enough damage to disarm the man, but immediately force him to a knee. An opportunity provided to him, Jack capitalises, kicking the grey-haired man in the face with enough force to put him on the ground. Briefly paying mind to the gunman behind him, Jack’s sights set upon the grounded man that now writhes on the ground with his arm in hand. Trying to slither away, Rocky presses his boots into the ground and pushes himself onward, only thwarted by the weight that presses upon him in the form of a knee. “You were supposed to help me!” Rocky shouts, incapable of crawling any further now that his attacker kneels upon him, his arms pinned to the ground. With a grin, Jack captures the flashlight from its bed of dirt before brightening the man’s face with its aid, a visible disgust for the powerless circumstance that he finds himself a victim of. “What happened to our deal!?” Rocky angrily queries, shouting into the heavens as Jack’s eyes take to the immediate surroundings, “we were supposed to be in this together!” With a smirk, the man positioned with power reaches into the dirt once more, his head shaking as his hand wraps around the smooth finish of a large, unassuming stone. “I only fight for one side” Jack answers, looking Lauren in the eyes as she stirs to her feet, shielding the wounded siblings from any further sign of danger. Returning his focus to the older survivor below, Jack shakes his head, “and that side-” the man remarks, watching Rocky’s face take on a look of horror as the dots connect, “-is not yours.” Simply because he desires to, Jack swings his hand forward one single time, crushing Rocky’s skull with enough force to leave a dent, the groggy look in his victim’s eyes showing signs of life, but not much in the way of awareness. Letting his flashlight drop, the man cracks the skull of Rockford’s commander with enough force for the bone to protrude from skin, any remaining sign of consciousness quickly fading. Increasing the pace, Jack brings his hand through the air again- and again- and again- repeatedly swinging at Rocky’s skull until there isn’t much of anything solid left to lay into, his fatal blow having been offered long ago. Filling his lungs with air before violently depleting them, the man’s blood-splattered face lifts toward his wife as the small boulder falls from his hand, its smooth face caked with blood. Cautiously stepping around Rocky’s body, Salem and Angela move toward the siblings, freeing Lauren to tend to her husband’s side. Their eyes colliding, Salem and Jack stare toward each other with a graceful nod, the mystery of who’d spared his life seemingly made clear at the sight of the rifle that rests within the sniper’s hand. | “Jess! Amy!” Emilio shouts in horror, his arms thrusting by his sides as he races through the woodlands, his motivations for entering the forest clearly differing from the rest of his group’s. “Emilio, where are you going!?” Jade exclaims, though she tries to keep up, her efforts feel insufficient when trailing behind a man whose speed far exceeds her own. “Amy! Come back!” Jess cries out into the open air, her firearm still swinging by her side as she follows the rustling of leaves and thudding footsteps. “She’s not your mother!” the woman continues to plead, worrying that the ground she’s already given up to the caring pair is too much to overcome, the wound in her back that presents her with such extreme pain ensuring the chase remains unbalanced. “Don’t look back!” Heather orders, pressing Amy’s head against her sternum as she hurries through overgrown vines and uneasy terrain. “Mom- stop!” Amy cries out, tightly pressing her eyes together as her head is pressed against her caregiver’s chest, fearful of her mother’s wrath, but even more horrified at the thought of what fate may await the woman whose arms she resides within. “Jess! JESS!” Emilio barks, eying a torn piece of red and black flannel as he hurries into a clearing, not stopping for a moment as he follows the patches of grass he can see has been trifled over. “Emilio, wait up!” Jade pleads, her request incapable of reaching the man at a worse time, their ears perking at the sound of another set of fired weaponry. Pulling her trigger, Amy fires another round in her mother’s direction, seemingly deciding that the hope of extending Jess the benefit of the doubt is no longer viable. “Oh, shit!” Heather exclaims, picking up the pace as she tears through another gap in the forest, the clearing that she enters not just an empty plot of land, but a wide and spacious open field- not an obstruction to take cover behind whatsoever. “Amy!” Jess screams, watching her daughter’s captor take toward an open field just a short distance ahead, her firearm readied as another bullet fires off in her direction. “Give me my daughter!” Jess howls, again ducking at the sound of a third shot ringing toward her as she steps upon well-cut grass, entering the field before steadying her aim. “Jess! Jess, sto-!” Emilio pleads, able to see a break in the woodlands approaching a few hundred metres ahead, the call of his resonant voice falling silent as yet another shot rings out, this time met with no further cover fire, its piercing sound sitting alone in a sea of grief. Subduing his voice, Emilio opts to continue the charge toward the field he can make the small details of, brushing Jade’s chase of him aside and allowing her to follow the breadcrumbs his footsteps have left behind. Though amidst the dead of night, a lone figure slowly walks forward beneath the cover of moonlight, its luminosity giving each blade of grass a dark green colour. Nearly too distracted to pay mind to the obstructions ahead, Emilio graces a few trees on his remaining quest toward the open field, the break in the trees now just ahead. “Emilio, wait!” Jade exclaims from behind, not wanting to thwart the man’s attempt at preventing tragedy, but not desiring the potential dangers he blindly rushes into. “Jess! Wait!” Emilio exclaims, holding his hands outward as he bursts through the woodland’s edge, finally entering the field to see a woman staring forward with her hand by her side, the weapon within it aimed at the ground. “I don’t know what they’ve done, but this isn’t worth throwing your-” Emilio pleads, trying his best to alleviate the situation before suddenly falling silent, the unresponsiveness Jess had met him with set aside as she begins slowly walking forward. Consumed by confusion, Emilio’s silence precedes his glance toward the open space, its trimmed grass allowing him to spot the presence of a second soul with ease, its body lifelessly lying face-down. Her grasp on the weapon depleting, Jess’ firearm falls to the ground as she walks forward, closing in on the body that rests just ahead, the desperate rage she’d been overcome by having vanished, replaced with an indescribable shock that sends shivers through her body. “N-” Emilio sighs, listening to Jade’s footsteps reach solid ground once more, finally having caught up just as his head tilts to one side, his face falling as his eyes widen, “No.” His head falling back and face taking toward the heavens, Emilio shakes his head in refusal, a tear running down his face as a sudden shortness of breath takes over, his arms covered with goosebumps as he returns to watching the woman stagger toward the crumpled heap. Her lip quivering, Jess’ expression fills with pain and regret as she approaches the soul she’d taken, a single wound in the back of Heather’s spine made clear in the light above. Speechless, Jess drops to her knees as she reaches toward Heather’s body, gasping for the breaths that evade her as she pushes the woman’s corpse aside, presenting her with the horrifying reality she made possible. Limping forward with bated breaths, Emilio shakes his head as he nears closer to Jess, watching the woman wrap her arms around her daughter and lift her off the ground. Her eyelids parted, Amy’s glossy eyes stare toward nothingness, the side of her head marked by the wound that resulted in her demise- Jess’ bullet having ripped through Heather’s chest and found a second target in her daughter’s head. Stricken with the grief of what she’d unintentionally caused, Jess falls to a seat on the ground as she cradles her daughter’s body, lightly brushing the hairs that cover her face aside as she holds back the wail of emotions that build within her. “Oh- god” Jade murmurs, pressing her hand against her mouth as Emilio continues forward, stopping a few metres away from the woman he’d known since the start of the old world’s demise. Her daughter’s head gently resting in the small of her arm, Jess looks to the damage she’d done with clarity, an understanding of what her actions have resulted in never made clearer than right now. Her lip quivering, Jess’ eyes pull away from her daughter’s face and take toward the man that had desperately tried to stop her, his hand holding the firearm he’d reclaimed from the ground. Shaking his head, Emilio silently offers Jess a signal, his disappointment in the job he now has to finish made resoundingly understandable. Parting her lips, Jess gives Emilio a subtle nod, her pressed-together eyelids forcing a tear down the side of her cheek. Incapable of hiding her guilt, Amy’s mother lets out a sigh as the feelings overwhelm her, confessing her acceptance. “I know...” Jess whispers, watching Emilio draw within a few metres, her head lifting to look the man in the eyes as she makes her own peace, “...I won’t stop you.” Her final utterance remarked, Jess lowers her face toward her deceased daughter and presses her lips to the young girl’s head, giving it a final kiss as she holds her tight. His face flooded with a stream of tears, Emilio takes a responsibility upon himself for the sake of his group, a responsibility he takes so those he loves don’t have to. Swallowing his pride, Emilio lifts the barrel toward Jess’ head and- in the same breath as he’d aimed it- pulls the trigger, mercifully ending the distraught mother’s fight and returning her to a life where her family can be nothing less. His will depleting the moment his shot is fired, Emilio drops the weapon and falls to the ground, his legs too weak to support his body, the grief Jess had felt now left for him to suffer through. Crumbling to his side, Emilio lays against the ground just a few feet from the scene of a tragedy as Jade nears close, rushing into the night to come to the aid of a man she can sympathise with more than she’d like to admit. Between Amy and Heather, an empty revolver sits within the dark blades of grass, the child’s fingerprints preserved on its metallic grip, which shines brightly beneath the light above, its barrel coming to rest a mere centimetres away from a lonely pink flower. Wrapping her arms around Emilio, Jade tries in whatever way possible to comfort the man stricken with sorrow and misery. Forced to lament the casualties, Emilio’s head rests upon the lap of Cumberland’s leader as she caresses the side of his face, unable to keep her own eyes away from the scene of such avoidable horrors. Drained of the will to fight through the anguish they dwell upon, Emilio and Jade reside within the field, quietly suffering a tragedy that’s yet to leave the ground they reside upon. == Rise == “They’re still following!” Nessie exclaims, her left hand pressed against the wound on Jack’s shoulder as her right propels him forward, pressing into his lower back. “You didn’t expect them to let off, did you!?” Franklin calls back, wrapping his arms around his head as bullets are fired off once more.
Their destination as unclear as the distance they have yet to travel, the embattled survivors begin to struggle beneath the weight of exhaustion, its crippling grasp daring them to step past their breaking point. Watching Clint stray further ahead, Franklin fights to maintain the pace he’s taken on, his face glistening with sweat as his lungs exhale deep puffs of air, fatigue beginning to settle in. Lowering his chin, Franklin stares toward the ground as further gunfire screams through the dark sky, his eyes nearly pressing shut as each new step pulls a groan from him. Barely able to notice the soundtrack of war that surrounds him, Franklin’s motivations fight weariness for supremacy as his mind sets itself on autopilot, focusing not on his terminus, but those his attempts to escape are taken for. “Stop!” Clint exclaims, throwing his arms toward the group in his wake, his hands forcefully shoving Franklin back as their paths meet once more, the larger man’s frame incapable of slowing down without assistance. “Why!?” Nessie barks, she and Jack sharing the struggle those ahead have as they begin to lessen their hurry, their breaths growing harder to come by. Visibly frazzled and shaken, Clint’s eyes veer toward whatever he can make out, his vision obstructed by the shade of night. “In here! Now!” the man soon growls, pulling away from the group’s forefront in favour of what rests closeby, its steel exterior providing himself and those he considers close with a desperately-needed commodity- shelter. “What are you doing!?” Nessie hisses, barely able to form words through her craved attempts at regaining her breath. “Stop questioning me! Get in!” Clint swiftly quips, pushing the door to a train car inward, providing the group with an immediate reprieve from the grave perils they face. “Nessie-” Jack grunts, still relying on the woman’s support to keep himself standing, his free hand pointing its index finger in the direction they’d travelled toward, “-he’s right.” The track remaining straight ahead for what seems like kilometres, a pair of headlights pierce through the dim night, effectively cutting the group off from advancing forward or retreating entirely. “Shit- alright, come on!” Nessie responds, assisting Franklin in aiding Jack to the train’s caboose before climbing aboard themselves, making sure to lock the door on their way in. Dropping to her knees, Nessie slinks into the corner as she attempts to capture her bearings, loose strands of hair sticking to the sweat on her face just the same as the rest of her group’s. “Stay quiet” Jack whispers, pulling himself into a seat near the cabin’s entrance, each breath forcing him to wince in pain, “-give ‘em a second to pass.” The back of his head pressing against a wall, Franklin’s eyes pull away from his group in favour of what sits near, a curious look appearing over his face as the room’s orange glow is taken notice of. “Psst” the man whistles across the cramped corridor, directing Clint’s attention toward the rest of the caboose’s interior, a single lantern left sat atop a counter closeby, its glass surrounding an already-lit flame. Its walls lined with the same glossy, hardwood finish as its ceiling and floor does, the caboose sits in beautiful condition, void of dust and debris whilst presenting a homely feeling. Just beyond the small group, a set of chairs sit in the centre of the room near to a vintage desktop, which rests near the end of a small couch long enough to serve as a bed if needed. The further the caboose trails on, the more it has to present. Lights that no longer work adorn the walls, curtains cover the windows whose blinds already seal the outside world from getting a peak at what resides within. As the caboose nears the back, a further set of chairs sit near a compact, but sturdy fireplace- the steel shell that covers it proving to be just as good of a stovetop as any. “Don’t make a sound” Salem whispers, huddled in the corner with the right side of her body pressing against Alicia, her finger on the trigger to the rifle she presses against her forehead. “We’re outnumbered” Alicia ripostes, her voice nearly too quiet for even the woman beside her to hear. “Even if you were fighting with me- that wouldn’t change” Salem replies, furrowing her eyebrows as she looks Alicia in the eyes, attention redirected toward the first few footsteps she can gather since their train car’s intrusion. Quietly adjusting herself, Salem keeps crouched behind a set of half-walls, their presence only ever intended to serve an aesthetic purpose until this moment. On one knee, Salem keeps her chin toward the ground as she waits for an opportunity, readied to fire if she feels the need. Stepping closer, the heavy set of footsteps cease, replaced by what the long-range shooter knows to be the movement of her lantern, immediately revealing her target’s location. “Don’t move!” Salem commands, standing out from cover with her eye already pressed against the scope, her dominant hand’s finger prepared to exchange gunfire. Panic and exhaustion mixing together, the group collectively turns to the cabin’s end, their hands raising in an unprompted display of surrender- too tired to fight any longer than they already have. Setting the lantern down, Franklin reciprocates his group’s gesture, both hands held toward the air as his fingers part, his eyes yet to fall upon the person that holds them at gunpoint from the room over. Her eyes widening, Salem’s head pulls away from her rifle, its barrel still aimed as her motor functions struggle to catch up with her brain. “Wh-” Salem murmurs, slowly lowering her weapon from the group’s direction as Alicia takes notice, watching from behind cover as Salem’s guard lowers. “You’re alive?” Salem softly speaks aloud, her bottom lip quivering as her weapon falls the rest of the way to her side, “you’re- you’re alive.” Squinting in the woman’s direction, Alicia watches Salem lower the rifle to her side with confusion, puzzled at the presence that provides her friend with such comfort. As her head pulls back, Salem’s eyes lower toward the pregnant stowaway with a half-smile, incapable of presenting emotion clearly in the moment. “Yeah-” the large man at the foursome’s forefront replies, his deep voice not only familiar to Alicia’s ear, but longed-for, “we’re alive.” Her eyelids having widely parted, Alicia pushes herself off the ground, her knees leaving the hardwood floors as she ascends to her feet. Speechless, Salem steps aside, clearing the centre aisle for her friends to reconnect, the pair’s embrace casting a shadow against the back wall as Salem passes, reuniting with Jack and the siblings as the distant sounds of muffled voices remain beyond the caboose’s quarters. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = With her rifle in tow, Katie stares down the ominous vessel that rests within the calm waters of the St. Lawrence, its anchor sunken into the water’s depths as its gangway rests against Orleans Island’s solid ground. One foot placed in front of the other, the young woman ascends the ship’s side, able to notice the armed man that waits at the staircase’s summit for her presence, his unamused expression following her as she draws nearer, inching closer to his ship. “Katie Dawson?” the man inquires, his question answered only with an unamused grunt equal to his own facial visage, “sorry- no unauthorised weapons allowed onboard.” Her forward progression halted at the boat’s entrance, Katie scowls in the man’s direction, momentarily redirecting her gaze toward the loaded weapon she gently cradles, her desire to continue onward quickly depleting. “Maybe I don’t feel comfortable trusting people that park war boats just outside of my house” Katie ripostes, her tone immediately taking on a reluctant inflection. “I don’t see how that’s my problem” the stationed guard replies, unfazed by the woman’s claims, but even further unperturbed by her lack of cooperation. “Because I was asked here by Mr. Megaphone- whoever that black guy was from the other day” Katie retorts, her left foot coming to a rest a slight distance further outward than her right, “you look like a toothpick with hair- so I doubt you’re more important than he is. Since that’s the case- I doubt he’d be happy knowing you kept us from talking because of this petty nonsense.” “I’m following protocols, girl” the man swiftly replies, directing the downward-facing barrel of his weapon toward a distant corner of the vessel’s entrance platform, “if he’s got a problem with me following orders- so be it. With that said, leave the gun by the door or just leave in general.” Her tongue pressing into the corner of her mouth, Katie’s eyelids near closer to each other as she stands silently for a moment, a brief glance shared toward the corridor she anticipates entering through. Nostrils flaring, the young woman surrenders to the cruiser’s regulations and relinquishes her long-range firearm, gently resting it upon the tiny platform before stepping through the opened water-tight door. With a side-eye, Katie ducks her head as she steps into the ship, the guard she walks past offering a few words of encouragement. “At the end of the corridor, turn right and Gamble’s office will be the third door on the left” the man remarks, unabashedly presenting the young woman with a sarcastic grin, “-enjoy your stay aboard the S.S Go Fuck Yourself.” Briefly pausing, Katie’s face takes toward her shoulder, allowing her eyes to fall upon the foul-mouthed, grey suit-wearing guard as she returns the half-assed remark. “Try not to fall overboard carrying that massive head of yours, jackass” the acquainted survivor responds, resetting her sights toward the long, narrow passageway that resides before her, its space small enough to be fully-illuminated by the small, unimpressive bulbs that sit within reinforced shields. Undaunted by the ringing of pipes that line walls in her every direction, Katie’s eyes keep to the hallway’s end, briefly glancing down each new branch the sector presents to her, its corridors equally cramped as the one she ventures through. “Welcome” Gamble remarks, watching his visitor’s head peer around the frame of his office door, a pair of glasses sitting halfway down the bridge of his nose as he silently reads the notes off a piece of paper. “I certainly don’t feel like it” Katie replies, watching Gamble’s silent stare approach her face, waiting for emphasis to be added within her remark, “welcomed- I don’t feel like it.” “Ah, well that’s not my problem” Gamble quickly ripostes, taking a final look into his notepad as he ascends from the chair he’d occupied for most of the day, attention soon redirected toward his guest. “Astor says you’re his go to- the person he calls when he needs a pair of hands to get dirty for him” the man continues, stepping around his desk before taking a seat upon its front, his hands placed against the hardwood to each side. “Is that what he said?” Katie curiously replies, crossing her arms as her head tilts toward one shoulder. “It’s what he implied- yes” Gamble quickly remarks, matching the woman’s posture by folding his arms against his chest, one eyebrow raised higher than the other, “and from what he’s mentioned, you seem to be the most-adapt person in his camp. Just how many years did you spend on the outside? Three? Four? You’ve practically seen every step of the world’s decay.” “I fail to see how any of that is your business” Katie eagerly interjects, not taking kindly to the cold, disproportionate amount of control the vessel’s leading figure has seemingly attempted to claim. “Believe it or not- everything about Orleans Island is my business” Gamble corrects, flashing a smile in the corner of his mouth as the shoulder of his suit jacket lightly grazes the side of his face, “if you’re who gets the dirty work done- that’s my business.” “In that case, maybe I should ask a better question” Katie retorts, her right knee bending outward as her arm-cross deepens, “why should I give a shit?” The qualm earning a light chuckle from him, Gamble’s chin lowers for a moment, only returning as his eyes reconnect with the young woman ahead. “Because it’s better to have some people as allies than others” Gamble answers, lowering his arms slightly as his grin dissipates, his naturally commanding expression returning, “I’m one of the people you’d rather not have in the opposite corner.” “I’ve seen plenty of people in this world- probably more than I’d like to admit- with a better claim to that than you” Katie retorts, unafraid of the man’s intimidating posture, taking it more as a presentation than an honest depiction of who sits before her. “I doubt that” Gamble remarks, his voice inherently deep and smooth, his stare never once leaving Katie from this moment onward, “but I don’t doubt why you’d think that.” Unfurling his arms, the well-dressed man lowers himself from the desk’s edge, matching Katie’s stance as the woman’s eyes become level with the centre of his chest. Not flinching, Katie uncrosses her arms and closes the distance between herself and the dictatorial figure, her dominant hand presenting just the tip of her index finger forward. “Then tell me why I should think any differently” the woman challenges, pressing her single digit into the man’s sternum and pushing him backward, literally poking him in search of his weak spot, “more importantly- tell me why I should give a fu-” Allowing the first subtle jab, Gamble’s left hand wraps around the woman’s wrist the moment her finger skims his body for a second time. “Ahh!” the young woman groans, leaning to the side as her arm is turned to the right, guided at Gamble’s will as she falls to a knee, her limb remaining in the man’s possession. “Is this a good start?” Gamble inquires, his voice not raising any further than the calm, collected tone he’d initially begun speaking to the young woman with, a gesture that only strengthens his point. “Not at all!” Katie grunts, pulling in a deep breath as she unsheathes a blade from within her belt loop, her left hand swiping through the air as she slices into the flesh of the man’s arm, prompting his aggression’s ceasing. “Argh, you BITCH!” Gamble howls, stumbling backward as his right hand tightly grasps the wound on his left arm, watching Katie confidently return to her feet with the knife in tow. “To answer your question from before- about how long I’d been out there?” Katie remarks, earning Gamble’s attention as she addresses the earlier concern from their conversation, “-long enough to know when people have really bad security measures.” Grimacing, Gamble groans toward the young lady, who returns the knife to her side and slowly makes for the cabin’s exit, confident in her declaration. “If you ever lay a hand on me again- I’ll fucking kill you” Katie warns, stepping through the room’s exit as Gamble watches on, applying pressure to his wound as the young woman departs, yet to be sure of what kind of impression he’s taken from their confrontation. | “Where is he!?” Lauren howls as she storms through the front doors of a small station redesigned to house a small police force, her group following closely behind as Emilio leads the charge onward. “Lauren!” a voice all-to familiar to the woman cries out, rounding the corner with an eager expression, his eyes immediately falling upon his love the moment she steps into view. Without another word, Lauren bursts past the small obstructions in her path and leaps into Jack’s arms, her face pressing into the small of the man’s neck as he snatches her out of the air. Not holding back his emotions, Jack’s smile overcomes his face, overwhelmed with joy as he drops to a knee, his forehead resting against the side of the woman’s face. “That’s beautiful” Franklin murmurs from afar, catching Emilio’s attention at the immediate sound of his voice. “You made it you goddamn son of a bitch!” Emilio humorously proclaims, stepping around the rejoined couple with his arms held outward. “It’s nice to see you again, governor!” Franklin enthusiastically erupts, high-fiving his long-time friend before embracing the man with glee, his lone-remaining hand patting the once-running mate on the back. “And same to you, lieutenant governor” Emilio jokes, pulling his head away to look the man in the eyes, one part of a larger reunion he’d never truly anticipated seeing. Sharing the reintroduction, Clint and Nessie stroll around the corner, reacquainting themselves with those they’d once been separated from, overcome with appreciation for the opportunity to reconvene. “As much as I hate to interrupt this- duty calls” a voice familiar to all calls aloud, capturing the group’s undivided attention with just the sound of her voice. Her brothers flanking each of her sides, Jade walks into the station’s foyer with purpose, one foot stepping ahead of the other with sights set on the destination ahead. “I still have a lunatic walking my streets and I’d like to put a stop to that” the woman remarks, hands tucked into the pockets of her tight, black jeans. “I know the four of you were part of Rocky’s inner circle. And even though I’m prepared to look past all of that, there’s no denying that he doesn’t put Cumberland under siege if not for you all spitting nonsense into his ear” the woman continues, putting an end to the chipper assembly her department hosts, “so- if I’m willing to scratch your backs and turn a blind eye to your crimes- I expect something in return.” “We’re not gonna deny you that” Franklin swiftly interrupts, a gesture reciprocated as Jack ascends from one knee, allowing Lauren’s feet to reconnect with solid ground. Letting free a sigh from the deepest caverns of her lungs, Jade’s eyes take to the siblings before colliding with the reconnected couples, a subdued look of joy appearing through her stern visage as she peers toward Alicia’s small baby bump. “I know” the woman exhales, lessening the stubborn and hardened stance she’d assumed upon her arrival, chin lowering as she composes herself from the hurried drive she’d entered with. “If Rocky’s still out there, just tell us what we need to do” Jack speaks out, his arm kept tightly wrapped around his wife’s waist as he presents his hand toward Cumberland’s general, “I gave a finger to get into Rocky’s good graces. If it takes a whole hand to get into yours- so be it- just say the word.” Extending her hand toward the man, Jade shakes her head in refusal, lightening the tone in her voice as she reclaims the discussion’s lead, trying to voice her concerns with an empathetic undertone. “I’d prefer you keep your hand and help me take that bastard's head instead, how does that sound?” the woman counteroffers, her remarks bringing an enthused look upon the group’s countenance. “That sounds like a fucking deal” Franklin swiftly replies, offering the same answer the rest of his small subgroup would have given themselves, accepting on the group’s behalf as their path toward absolution becomes clear. | “She just went down for bed, but I can wake her if you need” Heather softly speaks, twirling the cord to the phone’s handset as her conversation nears its natural conclusion. “I think it’s time the girl has her question answered” Emilio responds, pressing his elbow into the police station’s concrete wall as he whispers into the handset’s receiver, “it’s time she knows why we’re the good guys.” Her head nodding, Heather releases her finger’s grasp of the twisted cord as Jessica descends the home’s main staircase, barely catching a glimpse of the home’s owner out of her eye’s corner. “I know” Heather replies, building the courage within herself to accept the course of action that she’s called to, “have her send a car- we’ll be ready.” As a few seconds pass, the call ends, prompting the woman to return the phone to its receiver as an unanticipated voice collects her curiosity. “Who was that?” Jess questions aloud, resting her elbow on the bannister as Heather spins in her direction, slightly flustered by her unexpected attendance. “Uh, it’s- it was Emilio” Heather stammers, beginning to approach Amy’s mother on her way toward the above-level’s bedrooms, “they found the others. We’re needed at Jade’s place.” With her mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, Jess nods her head and allows Heather to pass, staring toward the open window at the living room’s back-most wall before speaking her silent thoughts aloud. “Are you bringing Amy?” the woman at the steps’ bottom asks aloud, turning to look at her child’s caregiver with a partially-empty expression. “Y- yeah, why?” Heather ripostes, coming to a stop near the staircase’s peak, practically able to watch the gears turn inside Jess’ head. “No- no reason” Jess answers, subtly shaking her head as Heather begins to nod, “I was just wondering.” Without a verbal riposte, Heather nods in the woman’s direction, watching Jess’ eyes drift toward the distance of the home’s interior before another thought dawns upon her. “You know how important Amy is to me, right?” Jess unanticipatedly queries, harbouring a visibly hopeful visage as Heather begins to nod. “She’s your daughter- of course I do” Heather answers, her hand coming to a rest upon her hip as she opens the floodgates to their impending discourse, “why?” Lowering her head, Jess stares at the patterns of the staircase’s carpeting, forming her replies off the cuff. “I just wanted to know that you knew- that you understood how much I cared about my daughter” the woman answers, lowering her voice to hide any hint of emotion that she worries could break through to the surface, “I wanted to make sure you knew that- even if I haven’t always showed it- I love my daughter more than anything else in this world.” Confused, Heather attempts to seek common ground with the woman below her, aware of the tragedies the woman has faced and not wanting to be insensitive to them. “Parents fuck up sometimes. Even if you make a bad choice- or make the wrong call somewhere along the line- you always have the best intentions for your kids” Heather answers, bringing out a small, barely noticeable glimmer of hope in the woman’s demeanour, “of course I know how much you love Amy.” “Then you know why I’m so worried, right?” Jess quickly asks aloud, the softened muscles in her face presenting Heather with the appearance of a woman desperate for the extension of an olive branch. “I don’t always have to love it- but you’ve been a great influence on Amy. I’m glad she’s had you, but I’m so worried that she doesn’t just see you as that” the concerned parent remarks, climbing one step higher on the staircase, “I’m scared she sees you more as my replacement.” Her head shaking, Heather remains where she’d stopped, three individual steps away from the home’s second level. “You’re her mother, Jess- I can’t replace you” the woman responds, her claim immediately argued against by the child’s mother, Jess’ feet climbing to the next step. “That’s not necessarily true” the woman replies, sliding her hand along the wooden railing as she journeys to the next highest step, “all I have left in this world is my daughter- and I can’t lose that bond.” “Jess, you’re not going to!” Heather assuredly responds with conviction, her refusal to believe such a claim thwarted once more. “Heather, I asked her the other day if she loved me, and do you know how she responded?” Jess swiftly asks aloud, ascending one place higher as she comes within five steps of her daughter’s keeper, “she said- ‘I have to- you’re my mom!’- like her love for me wasn’t something that I earned- but was something I was entitled to.” “She’s a kid living in a world filled with chaos, you can’t expect her to fully understand the concept of love!” Heather argues back, the distance between both parties now shortened to four steps. “She doesn’t need to understand love in order to show her true feelings” Jess argues back, another step taken forward to shorten the gap to three stairs, “she looks at you as someone she trusts. Someone she looks up to and can count on. And me? I’m just the person she belongs to!” “What are you trying to say Jess?” Heather inquires, resting her open palm against the bannister as the woman ahead of her climbs yet another step, their faces inching closer as the seconds pass. “I’m saying that- while I appreciate everything you’ve done for her- you’re driving a wedge between Amy and I” Jess declares, finally reaching the lone stair between herself and Heather, “I want to know that- when the time comes- you’ll keep from getting between Amy and I any further.” The woman’s conclusion prompting her eyebrows to furrow, Heather’s head pulls back, the thoughts that spring to her mind kept subdued as she looks into Jess’ expectant expression. Trying to collect her thoughts, Heather shakes her head and climbs the remaining steps to the top, preparing to make for Amy’s room before the response she’d anxiously attempted to concoct makes its way to the tip of her tongue. “I’m not going to keep you from Amy, Jess- but I’m not going to make that decision for her” Heather replies, the anticipative expression the young girl’s mother had worn gradually subsiding to a more natural, unemotional visage, “if she decides that she wants you to care for her- that’s fine and I’ll respect that. But if she decides she’d rather keep the status quo going- I’ll expect you to respect that just the same.” Her bottom lip lowered a slight amount from her top, Jess looks to Heather with a somewhat surprised look before grunting to clear her throat, silently nodding in the woman’s direction to respond. Left with an uneasy feeling, Heather relieves herself of the weight she’d felt cradling her chest before rounding the corner, clearing herself from Jess’ view in favour of tending to the mid-slumber youth. Her blank face beginning to gradually descend into a dissatisfied scowl, Jess redirects herself toward ground level, allowing Heather’s answer to settle as her mind forms its own conclusions. | “Hurry the fuck up, dipshit!” an aggravated man remarks, his dirty hands tossing a handheld radio across the room to a man of equally filthy standards. Without a rebuttal, the ordered man charges through the living room and past a small couch near the room’s back, its cushions occupied by a frail elderly couple with their hands bound by rope and mouths covered with duct tape. Through the front door, the grease-stained man hurries toward the quiet neighbourhood’s road with the radio set in his hand, a gleeful and chipper look held upon his face. “Boss! Boss!” the man exclaims, climbing the stepladder of a big rig’s cabin with his hand extended toward the open window, “they’re calling for us!” Pressing his eyes closely together, Rocky looks to the speaker with intrigue as he discards his lit cigarette through the door’s opening, freeing his hand to claim the handset. “You will cooperate” Jack’s voice speaks, carried through the airways with a declarative tone, “this settlement no longer belongs to you- and it does not belong to Nova Scotia- you now belong to us.” Switching hands, the transmitter finds the refuge of Franklin’s palm, where it’s carried across the room once more. “Once again, we’ll repeat ourselves slowly” the larger man remarks, keeping his finger upon the speaker’s button as he holds the receiver toward one pair of lips in particular. “Cumberland’s leadership has fallen” a disgruntled and groggy Archie remarks, his voice weak and frail, “she surrenders to her intruders.” A grin appearing from behind his lips, Rocky turns the keys in his ignition and waves his hand toward the quiet home at the end of the nondescript road he parks upon. “If you are what remains of Rockford, we ask you to follow the signal flare” Jack announces, pulling the trigger to brighten the sky with a brilliant orange glow, his call to arms presented to what remains of Cumberland’s society, “join us for this monumental rebirth. Join us for a dawn where we take what’s ours.” Putting his foot to the pedal at the sound of engine’s roaring, Rocky directs his eighteen wheeler toward the main road, joining his flock in firing shots into the dead of night, victory and triumph having found him at long last. == Rise == “Well- no- the match doesn’t add up” Max admits, watching Katie pace through their kitchen as he stands near the table at the rooms centre, “-but that doesn’t necessarily mean the guy’s got some agenda.”
“Everyone has an agenda” Katie swiftly remarks, lowering a bottle of water from her lips as she wipes a droplet from her chin, the long black sleeve that runs over her arm dampened. “Oh really?” the woman’s roommate murmurs, crossing his arms as his head bobs gently, “what’s my agenda?” Discarding the plastic container, Katie reaches for her knapsack, hurling the strap over her head as she replies. “You want me to stay out of trouble ‘cause you’ve gotten used to having a non-Quebecois friend around” the young woman remarks, tucking a black mask into the pocket of her equally-dark pants. “I wouldn’t call that an agenda” Max refutes, his eyes narrowing as his roommate advances upon their shared-home’s rear-door, her hand resting upon the doorknob. “-I would” Katie answers, twisting the handle before placing her foot beyond the home’s floor, fully intent on walking into the early morning as Max’s voice calls her back. “Do you remember how we met?” the man eagerly exclaims, stopping the woman’s second foot from crossing the threshold of their spacious home. Her lips pressing together, Katie’s foot pulls back into the home, her right hand resting on the door’s smooth, outer surface as her eyes peer over the top of her left shoulder. “I do” Katie responds, gradually turning the rest of her body in the direction her face takes toward, “why do you ask?” Resting against the home’s entry, the woman watches her fellow lodger step away from the table, shrugging as he slowly approaches her, “I’m losing track of time-” he answers, smirking as his head tilts to the side, “remind me, won’t you?” Rolling her eyes, Katie hides a grin, her tongue clicking as her lips detach. “I was firing at some cans in the back and you came up from down the road” the woman recalls, her shoulders falling as her neck straightens, her eyes lifting higher the closer her friend nears, “you said I’d get in trouble if I kept acting like I didn’t give a shit.” Nodding, Max draws closer, leaning against the wall opposite his much smaller lodger, “and then what did I tell you to do?” Her grin having turned into a semi-frown, Katie’s eyes direct themselves closer toward the floor, her dissatisfied expression accompanying the reply. “You told me to listen to you-” the woman answers, again lifting her face toward Max’s, reasserting their shared eye contact, “-you said you’d help make the island feel more like home.” “And why is there a difference now?” Max quickly wonders aloud, watching the look of confident intent return to his co-tenant's face as she steps the rest of the way through the door. “Because now I do give a shit” Katie concludes, venturing into the night as the sun nears its daily return to the sky, the rifle carried by her side as she steps through her grassy field, her mind set on one destination. As the sky begins to turn red, a beige truck slows to a sudden stop over a pebble-covered dirt road, its occupants not taking long to disembark the vehicle. His heavy boots colliding with the ground, Gamble leaves the driver’s seat as his small group gathers closely behind, following him down the narrow stretch of passageway as its end approaches. The side of her face placed near the scope, Katie watches the still-unfamiliar man approach a small warehouse at the street’s conclusion, its roof withered and sections of its walls attacked by years of rust and decay. Though her hand rests on her weapon’s grip, her finger rests nowhere near the trigger, her intentions made obvious in physical presence alone. Though her second eye sits shut, Katie’s lip curls just as her nostrils flare, an evident distrust of the man and the armed posse he’s flanked by taking her visage captive. From her scope’s corner, Katie’s attention is taken by the warehouse's large, metal door opening, those occupying the inside stepping out to greet their guest. “Thank god John taught me well” Katie whispers, her reluctant demeanour replaced with one of visible disgust as she sets forth a scowl. His hand reaching out, Astor embraces Gamble’s hand with his own, a smile shared on both of their faces as they enter the non-descript shack at the road’s end, sealing the entrance shut as the pair of forces advance within. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = As his eyes press together, Jack’s head rests on the back of his hand as he slowly spins his chair from one side to the other. “There’s no way they have the entire camp walled off, right?” Clint wonders aloud, the tired tone he speaks with harbouring an exhaustion that makes confidence difficult to come by. “If any part of the border isn’t walled off, it’ll be covered by their guards” Franklin ripostes, gently tapping his metal cap upon his right knee. His face pulling out from his right hand, Jack tilts his chin toward the ceiling, letting the conversation ensue around him. “That doesn’t matter much. We’ve either got to live in here or get out of here- there’s no in between” Nessie remarks, the group’s only survivor to speak with any resemblance of enthusiasm. “I think we’re at the point where we’ve gotta accept there are only two options” the woman continues, tying the laces of her boots tightly as she occupies a spot on the floor, “we’ve gotta get ready, so I think we should just get this vote out of the way.” “We’re tempting death either way- there has to be another option” Clint responds, his eyebrows furrowing as his head tilts back, both hands motionless in his lap. Eyes parting, Jack’s pupils take to the ceiling as the rest of the group continues their discourse, his mind having wandered in search of the missing selection Clint had kept the discussion alive over. “There’s not. We’ve been up all night and we’re still left with two choices” Franklin proclaims, his neck cracking as he shifts his chin from one direction to the other, “I say we-” Interrupted, Franklin stops as Jack speaks out, his head lowering back toward his group’s direction as his eyes widen, the muscles in his face both relaxed and strained at once. “There is a third option” Jack suddenly remarks, curling the corner of his lip as his disinterest prevails, “well, a third temporary option- but a third option regardless.” His silence shared by the siblings, Franklin leans back in his chair, his arms falling over both sides of the seat he sits atop. “Go ahead” the larger man remarks, crossing one leg over the other, too exhausted for his intrigue to come across as genuine. Grimacing as his lips part, Jack hesitates to speak, the look on his face implying a great shame taken over the thought that’s crossed his mind. Hanging his head for a moment, Jack clears his throat and leans forward, pulling away from his seat’s back support as he answers, “we could kill her.” His semi-intrigued guise twisting into a surprised look of disbelief, Franklin presses his elbows into the armrests, leaning forward as the siblings reply with their own silent, judgemental stares. “What did you say?” Franklin whispers, offering the question silently so as to keep himself from responding with an outburst of anger. Letting a sigh free, Jack stares into the distance for a moment before accepting the role he’s taken within the group, his offer of seemingly empty evil presenting him as the devil on the group’s collective shoulder. “I said we could kill her” Jack doubles down, this time with less reluctance to offer his proposition, “-she’s dying of cancer and struggles to move. Killing her now wouldn’t just help give us time to let things settle down, it’d be offering her a merciful death.” “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Franklin shouts, angrily removing himself from the chair he sat upon as Jack does the same, a sudden jolt of life kicked into the group as a whole. “Frank, calm the hell down!” Nessie exclaims, joining her brother in standing between the pair of men, their arms extended in an effort of keeping Franklin and Jack at opposite ends. “I’m thinking about what’s in our best interest!” Jack proclaims, matching Franklin’s angered tone as his face scrunches, filling with the same bitterness that his friend’s contains. Lowering his voice to a near-hiss, Jack continues to speak, calling for Franklin’s attention as the man turns away. “We barely broke into this place three days ago! Tensions are high!” Jack proclaims, “if we hold out for a few more days, we could go to the front gates with our hands up and claim ignorance.” Hand on his hip, Franklin turns around with his finger pointed, mustering every ounce of will he can offer not to let their conflict turn physical. “We don’t need to kill her for that!” Franklin counters, his right foot taking a large step ahead of his left. Glancing toward the staircase’s direction, Jack matches Franklin’s posture, lunging forward with his right foot all the same, their faces mere metres apart from each other’s. “Why would she want to live? Do you not see the world that surrounds her outside? It’s like living in a war zone!” Jack ripostes, “and what’s gonna happen when she comes back? She’s not just gonna stay dead!” Closing his mouth, Franklin shakes his head, walking away once more. “You can argue against me all you’d like- it’s not changing that this works out for everyone” the unabashed man remarks, watching as Clint and Nessie gradually pull away from the space that divides the group’s decision-makers, “she gets to go with dignity, we’ll have a better chance at running out the clock, and no one’s forced into having to suffer something they don’t deserve.” Both from a place of having nothing to respond to Jack with as well as a harbour of revulsion, Franklin looks his friend in the eyes, his head shaking as he remains riposteless. “Look me in the eyes and tell me the alternative- walking into a firing squad and letting that woman upstairs feel what it’s like to be ravaged by cancer- tell me that’s what you’d prefer” Jack orders, arguing until no better case can be made. His mouth agape, Franklin places his hand on his hip and turns for the back door, shaking his head as he walks off. “I’m not pulling the trigger” Franklin replies, stepping into the enclosed backyard before slamming the door on his way out, the floor vibrating as the entrance shuts entirely. | Occupying the passenger’s seat, Emilio’s eyes are struck by momentary dashes of light that peer through the trees along his vehicle’s small road, blinding him before vanishing- only to reemerge seconds later. “Something on your mind, sunshine?” a soft, effeminate voice with an impenetrably sarcastic undertone quips, her hands softly grazing the wheel she turns with the will of the road. “Not at all” Emilio answers, glancing toward Jade in the seat beside him momentarily, his eyes taking to an elderly couple that walk along the well-maintained street with their hands intertwined. “It certainly doesn’t seem that way” Jade retorts, her back pressing into the leather seat she’d moved closer to the wheel, “you look like someone that’s got their mind on something.” Squinting, Emilio watches his window pass the older pair as he takes to his driver’s riposte, picking it apart for the truth that hides within it. “I’m just thinking” Emilio replies, feigning a smile and putting an arch in his eyebrows. “Thinking about what?” Jade swiftly counters, periodically peering toward Emilio’s face, the clear road ahead giving her little reason not to maintain the playful gambit they’d opened the door to. “Thinking about the future-” the man remarks, his right arm resting against the shape of the vehicle’s door, his right side pressing into the truck’s sturdy interior, “wondering whether or not it’ll be that paradise I’ve always imagined it being- or if it’ll just be another place like what we’ve always seen.” Pressing her lips together, Jade moves loose strands of hair behind her ears as she takes the nearest left turn, her pale arms presented to the sunny skies in part thanks to the black tank top she sports. “You think a place with the inner workings of Nova Scotia can fall apart so easily?” the woman inquires, again briefly glancing in Emilio’s direction every few moments. “It has once before” the man answers, resting his left foot atop his right, his front positioned in Jade’s direction, “and to make matters worse- it doesn’t seem like much has changed since then.” “Of course things have changed- four years into the apocalypse is a lot different than four days into it” the woman responds, letting her left hand fall from the wheel as they near their destination. “That doesn’t mean the people have” Emilio responds, meeting Jade’s eyes as the truck slows to a halt, the woman’s hand shifting the vehicle into park. “What do you mean by that?” Jade inquires, subduing a partial grin from overtaking her face as her passenger unbuckles his seatbelt, already stepping through the door. “You know what I mean by that” the man responds, his reply allowed to remain simple as he directs himself toward the street’s centre, a small patrol unit gathered for his arrival. “Woah- Ms. McKee!” one guard, his face as unimportant and unmemorable as any other remarks, “-I thought you weren’t supposed to be outside of Rawson!?” Tying her hair into a ponytail, Jade follows closely behind Emilio, the man’s feet carrying him in the direction of an overturned car, its windows shattered into fragments that lay upon an asphalt road dotted with blood. “Supposed to and want to are two different things, Duke” Jade replies, stopping in her tracks as her friend wanders toward the nearest point of interest, “when you’re in charge- you get to choose option two.” Bowing his head, the armed guard redirects his attention toward Emilio, an embarrassed undertone residing within the confines of his speech. “Alright, enough standing around- why is this wreckage so important?” Jade finally inquires, placing her hands upon her hips as her left knee protrudes forward. “Uh, because- it’s-” Duke mumbles, his eyes lowering to the ground as he attempts to regain his bearings, “it’s not ours- that’s why. We don’t have a record of the licence plate and we couldn’t identify the driver.” “So- it’s Rockford’s?” Jade correctly ripostes, watching Duke’s head nod before stepping past him, journeying back to Emilio’s side, “-you should have started with that.” His left knee pressing into the ground, Emilio gazes through the vehicle’s wound- an opening that had once been used as a window- with a curious gleam in his eye. “Anything catch your eye?” Jade wonders aloud, carefully pressing her elbow into the small car’s underbelly, its components exposed to the sky as the automobile rests stomach-up. “Nope” Emilio grumbles, crawling over glass and metal debris to enter the front seat, its furnishings left in perfect condition, “but if they only came in here with a handful of cars and trucks- that roamer wasn’t the only one in this thing.” “This thing could have been laying around for days- they could be anywhere by now” Jade quickly replies, shaking her head as she peers toward the nearest treeline, its obstruction leaving scattered cascades of sunlight atop the asphalt. “Yeah, well- that seems to be the common theme” Emilio remarks, pulling himself into the backseat as he responds through groans, “with any kind of luck- they’ll have stayed apart from each other and kept small in-” The man’s voice falling silent, Jade waits a few moments for the verbal thought to conclude as she remains outside, the time that passes without a response concerning her. “You alright in there?” the woman calls out, patting the car’s bumper twice as she steps aside, listening to the shuffle of Emilio’s body as he pulls himself free of the backseat. Halfway through the window of the closed door, Emilio extends his hand toward Jade, who kneels from her standing position. “Do you recognise this?” Jack queries, a long and thin piece of sharpened metal pressed between his fingers as his face dawns a half-smile. “Not at all- why? Should I?” Jade answers, watching Emilio’s left arm fold, his flattened hand slipping into his sleeve until only half of his arm peers through the fabric cuff. “Does this ring a bell?” Jack retorts, his right hand pressing the blade’s base against his elbow, which folds to mimic a severed arm. “Is that Franklin’s prosthetic?” Jade soon guesses, moving aside to allow Emilio to drag himself the rest of the way to freedom. “It’s the bayonet Frank wears at the end of his prosthetic!” Emilio gleefully responds, letting the dagger hang by his side as he climbs to his feet, “if Frank was in this car, the rest probably were too.” “-Which means they could be around here somewhere!” Jade adds on, her tone shifting from curious to optimistic as her hand directs itself toward the radio on her side. “Which also means that we should ramp up our search around here” Emilio quips further, sliding the mostly-dull blade into his back pocket, “the sooner we can find out where they are- the sooner we’ll be able to set our sights solely on finding the other little chickens running around this nest.” | Sweat beading down the side of his face, Astor sits at a large barrel, his hands wrapped around a plunger that he repeatedly presses into the container’s insides. “Oh chère dame, ne voyez-vous pas ? Nous avons trouvé des bénédictions sur l'île d'Orléans” the man murmurs beneath his breath, an angelic hum in his voice as he sings, “que vos fils et vos filles prospèrent davantage - vivant en paix sur la rive du Saint-Laurent.” The heel of his right foot tapping against the wooden floorboard of his equipment-strewn barn, Astor presses into his work, pushing himself past a sweat in an effort of obtaining perfection. “Oh chère dame, ne voyez-vous pas ? Nous avons trouvé des bénédictions sur l'île d'Orléans” the man repeats, singing over the audible sounds of his barn doors parting, granting entry from the outside to those that go unnoticed, “que vos fils et vos filles prospèrent-” Interrupted mid-sentence, Astor’s head swings backward, his passionate work set aside in favour of addressing the intrusive figure that stands before him. “That’s a lovely tune” Katie remarks, her voice carried through the open space she shares with the island’s leader, “for clarity-purposes only- why don’t you tell me just who you’re asking to ‘find prosperity along St. Lawrence’s shore’- us or them?” Initially jumping at the young woman’s voice, Astor brings himself down from the high of fright, hanging his head for a moment as he catches his breath. His flannel sleeve dampened as he runs it across his glistening forehead, Astor pulls his gloved hands from the shift they’d been stationed upon as he climbs out of his chair, laughing off the woman’s question as he reaches for a dry rag. “For us- of course!” Astor answers, covering his face with the dry cloth before patting the sides of his head, “who else would I be referring to?” Presenting the man with a grin, Katie places one foot in front of the other, slowly approaching the man with her head hanging. “I’m really glad you asked that” the young woman replies, the rifle she’d held at her side now directed in Astor’s direction, her humoured visage wiped away immediately, “who else would you be referring to?” The light-hearted banter he’d attempted to open their dialogue now lost in the face of the threat that looms near, Astor’s face goes blank, caution taken in his every word. “I don’t know- that’s why I asked you” Astor rejoins, leisurely raising his hands in a show of peace and surrender, “can you tell me why you’re holding that rifle at me?” “Tell me why you met with Gamble at that warehouse earlier today and I’ll think about it” Katie hastily counters, tilting her head to one side as she draws closer, “you went through a lot of trouble to make sure you were out of anyone’s sight.” “For a start- it wasn’t enough trouble for you to catch that” Astor corrects, unhurriedly lowering himself back to the stool he’d just recently departed from, “and for second, I didn’t set up that meeting- Gamble did.” “I don’t care who set it up. However, I’d really like to know why it was planned so far out” Katie again quickly speaks out, each metre she steps closer with increasing the damage of the shot she can manage to fire off, “that kind of secrecy doesn’t usually yield anything good.” Sighing through his frown, Astor remains calm, his collected composure preventing Katie from feeling the need to overstep the control she possesses. “He was talking about the island’s crop yield” Astor responds, his hands held steadily in the air as they have been for the majority of the confrontation, “he wanted to know how the new guidelines were coming along.” “Why does he care?” Katie speedily questions once more, pulling a nearby stool with her foot as her weapon remains upon the man seated before her, “why is he even still around to begin with?” Clicking his tongue, Astor’s chin lifts slightly, his eyes watching Katie occupy the seat in front of him as he attempts to respond. “Because we might not be on our own for much longer” the man replies, watching Katie’s face scrunch as her head subtly shakes. “I thought that’s what you wanted” the young woman qualms, leaning back slightly as Astor’s eyes fall, “you wanted to open up to the rest of the world- I thought that was your plan.” “My plan was to work with other settlements- not to be their pawn” Astor calmly corrects, slowly lowering his arms until the palms of each hand rest against his legs, “and it seems that- if some chips fall against us- we might end up being the latter without help.” Lowering her weapon, Katie lowers her face toward the ground, trying to decipher what’s being told to her. “Gamble’s part of some community, and apparently there’s another- more powerful- community that his is at odds with” Astor continues, his eyes wandering throughout the barn as he speaks, “that place wants to get into Toronto through the St. Lawrence, and from the way it sounds- if that happens, we might be forced to assimilate into their camp or be left out entirely.” “What the hell are these camps then?” Katie queries, her arms crossing as she lowers the rifle to the ground, her left leg resting atop her right. “The Nova Scotia camp and a smaller part of them that wants to break off” Astor replies, the young woman’s mind already having assumed the former at the earlier appearance of cruise vessels. “Gamble’s part of PEI- which is apparently part of the Nova Scotia people- but in name only” the man continues to speak, “he said Nova Scotia is in charge of everything and keeps using their oil pockets to subdue some revolt. Now the island’s getting restless, and with ‘Scotia’s hopes of getting into Toronto, he thinks they’ll come onto our island and wrangle us in or kick us out entirely.” “And you believed him?” Katie queries, the question answered immediately. “Everything he said lines up with what you said. Nova Scotia, wanting to get into Toronto, the oil monopoly- it all lines up!” Astor proclaims, his hands now wrapping around the stool’s curved seat as he leans forward, “and he’s not shying away from being honest about things- he said that, if they agree to go into Toronto, we’ll either be forced off the island by Nova Scotia or by them.” “Then why pick a side?” Katie counters, the question too great not to linger in her mind, “if either option ends up getting us forced off the island, what difference is there between either choice?” “Because Gamble already promised sanctuary to everyone here. At the very least, I know we’ll have a home if push comes to shove” Astor responds, “I’m only raising the yield receipts to prove our worth. I want to show them that we can meet such a dramatic uptick. And the excess food will better prepare us for what’s to come. .” Her eyes narrowing, Katie’s head drops to the ground for a moment, her eyes wandering across the splintered boards for a moment. Without a word further, Katie retrieves her rifle and makes for the way she’d arrived, her mind wrapping around what she’s now become privy to. “Hey, Katie!?” Astor beckons aloud, watching the woman gradually turn herself toward his direction, “if you ever hold me at gunpoint again- there’ll be consequences.” Though able to challenge the man’s authority, Katie chooses to abstain from any further conflict, nodding her head as she steps back onto the soil of Orleans Island, her eyes set on returning home. | Gently pressing his knuckle against the bedroom door, Jack fills the dark room he enters with the light of the hallway he steps in from. His slow steps taken with caution, Jack approaches the IV bag that reflects the moonlight in the bedroom window, the liquid inside sitting steadily. Pulling in a breath, Jack takes a syringe he’d held by his side, lining the needle up with the clear tube that runs from the bags before gently piercing its rubbery exterior. “Are you here to kill me?” Celia inquires, her frail voice preventing Jack’s thumb from pushing the plunger, the question asked without any reluctance to the answer- regardless of what it may be. Pressing his lips together, Jack looks into the woman’s face, able to see her detailed glare in his direction the longer his eyes adjust to the darkness. “Yes” Jack quietly replies, his answer kept short and brief, the tone of his voice lacking emotion of any kind as he remains neither eager, nor discouraged, to follow through on what he sees fit. “Hmph” Celia mutters, puckering her lips as she looks to the ceiling, thinking quietly to herself for a moment before refocusing on Jack, an almost unnoticeable smirk appearing in the corners of her mouth, “thank you.” With a nod, Jack looks the woman in the eyes, his thumb pressing down on the plunger as the tube fills with an intentionally strong dose of barbiturates. “You’ll go peacefully within a few minutes” Jack whispers, calmly taking a seat near the edge of the woman’s bed, the plunger left in her I.V as he removes a screwdriver from his back pocket, “then I’ll make sure you don’t come back like everyone else.” “How thoughtful of you” the woman weakishly responds, a tear running down the side of her face as she replies, presenting no touch of sorrow in her voice. “I’ve had a long enough life up here as is- I’d prefer not overstaying my welcome” Celia quips, subduing a laugh as Jack lays his weapon at her feet, disarming himself as the frail lady continues, “you’re doing me a real favour.” “I’m not doing it for you” Jack quickly corrects, his voice retaining its impassive tone, “we need more time than what you’re giving us- all I’m doing is taking that time back.” Amused, Celia lets out a short chuckle, beginning to feel the effects her dose begins with, able to muster plenty of strength to keep the conversation alive just as she is. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have wasted the medication” the woman remarks, watching Jack’s face struggle to retain the uncompassionate visage it sports. “I figured you’d done enough in this life to earn a peaceful departure” Jack corrects, scrunching his nose before freeing a short laugh from his lungs, replacing it with a deep breath, “besides- none of us have chemo.” “And I hope you never do” Celia ripostes, laying her palms atop her bed’s comforter as her breaths steady, her eyes beginning to flutter slightly. “I hope- for your sake- that the world you and your loved ones make is much better than the one I leave behind” the demise-bound lady confesses, another tear shed down the side of her face, “you and your people are the ones I hope play a big part in that.” His eyes narrowing, Jack’s head tilts to one side, watching the woman’s eyelids begin to press together, “why do you say that?” he queries, intrigued by her remark. “Because you all care- even if you’re trying really hard not to right now” Celia answers, struggling to keep her eyes parted, the smile that emerges on Jack’s face only further corroborating her claim, “we don’t root out the trees and flowers for a reason- we save that for the weeds. You and your friends- you’re no weeds.” Bowing his head, Jack nods to himself as he peers back toward the older woman, her dying breaths nearing closer. “I hope you and Franklin find your loved ones” Celia whispers, her lips parting less as the seconds pass, the drugs’ effects kicking in further, “I hope you live long and happy lives.” Exhaling through his nose, Jack presses his left eye shut, quashing the tear that threatens to fall from his face before it has the chance. “And I hope you make it out of here alive” Celia proceeds, reclaiming Jack’s full attention, his frown overwhelming the heart-filled smile, “I hope you make the next Cumberland better than it was when you arrived.” Again restraining a chuckle, Jack nods once more, glancing through the blinds that sit over the woman’s head, covering her bedroom window. “We’ve got to make it through your guards in order to do that” Jack remarks, his head shaking as the woman nears life’s final turn, “I don’t like our chances all too much.” Mustering the strength to shake her head, Celia refutes the man’s claims, offering him parting words carried with hope. “Follow the train tracks” Celia murmurs, her life fading as she finishes speaking, “they won’t chase you- Jade won’t let them.” His narrowed eyes parting immediately, Jack’s lips pull away from each other, his tongue pressing against his teeth as a heavy set of footsteps climb the stairs in a hurry. “Jade!? Did you just say Jade!?” Jack eagerly questions, pressing his hands against each of the woman’s shoulders, trying to shake her awake as Franklin pushes himself through the door. “They’re back!” the large man exclaims, engulfing the bedroom with light from the hallway, allowing him to watch Jack try to jolt the woman out of her deathbed. “What are you doing!?” Franklin exclaims, taking a step closer to the bed’s side before noticing the syringe that protrudes from the woman’s clear tubing, easily able to put the pieces together. “She said Jade! She said ‘Jade wouldn’t let them’!” Jack exclaims, looking the larger man in the eyes as he continues violently thrashing the woman from her slumber. Pressing his teeth together, Franklin’s gentle pull of Jack’s shoulders strengthens, his efforts now set on prying the man from his victim. “It’s over, Jack! She’s gone and we’ve got to go!” the man proclaims, pulling his friend off the bed before claiming the screwdriver, finishing the job Jack had started. With a forceful thrust, Franklin buries the Philip’s head through the woman’s corpse, leaving the weapon embedded in her eye socket as a large set of knocks pound at the downstairs entrance. Pressing his hand over Jack’s mouth, Franklin lowers his voice, whispering directions into the man’s ear. “The guards are back and Celia’s not gonna get us out of this mess!” the handicapped survivor mutters, releasing his grasp of his friend’s face, “we have to get out of here!” “She said Jade’s name, Frank! The rest of our group is here!” Jack hisses, the vein in his forehead more defined as his head lunges forward. “Well they can’t find us standing over a dead body with a screwdriver in her face!” Franklin replies, hurriedly returning to the hallway as he motions Jack to, “we’ve gotta get out of here now!” “Ms. Good!” a loud, masculine voice barks from the front step, his voice able to reach the ears of those on the story above. Groaning, Jack reluctantly gives into Franklin’s lead, quietly descending the steps in the larger man’s shadow, both Clint and Nessie already stood by the backdoor- prepared for the evacuation they’d agreed upon moments earlier. “Where’s the train tracks!?” Jack whispers aloud, his voice reaching out to the siblings stood by, waiting for his presence patiently. “How would any of us kn-!?” Nessie begins to answer, interrupted at the sound of mechanisms turning across the room, the front door gently pushed open to reveal a pair of familiar faces. “Run!” Jack exclaims, throwing his weight into Franklin’s back in a moment of desperation, propelling the man into the twins as he reaches for a ceramic vase. “Don’t move!” the young black officer exclaims, his shoulder pushed inward as his caucasian counterpart readies his pistol. Narrowly providing himself with cover, Jack launches the delicate projectile across the room, allowing it to shatter against the drywall as he darts through the backdoor, following his group’s lead. “Four people out the back! We need help here!” the first officer exclaims, calling out to a guard-filled van parked just beyond the parkway, prepared for a chase. “Stay low!” Clint proclaims, snaking through the tall grass that grows along their hillside, Franklin and his sister not too far behind. “Where’s Jack!?” Nessie calls out, covering her ears as gunshots ring out, forcing her to duck close to the ground. “I’m back-!” the man calls out, no more than a few dozen metres behind as a second flurry of gunshots ring out, some hitting the ground closely enough to tear dirt up, “Argh!” “Get somewhere safe!” Nessie commands, retreating the way she’d come before stepping past Franklin, waving him aside as she sets her focus on the groans in the near distance. “Jack, follow my voice!” Nessie commands, again ducking close to the ground as yet another halestorm of bullets tear through the air, some nearing closer than she’d prefer them to be. Appearing through the overgrowth, Jack reunites with Nessie, her arms wrapping around the man’s shoulders as his right hand presses against his left shoulder. “They got me twice!” Jack grunts, keeping Nessie on the path toward the freedom they hope for as a fourth round of shots fire into the cover of night, this time incapable of halting the pair from moving forward. “Celia said Jade was in charge!” Jack exclaims, increasing his pace as a break in the unintended forestry nears, his voice grating as he winces in pain, “she told me to follow the train tracks!” On cue, the pair spill through the jungle-like blades of lawn and onto a long passageway of weed-covered gravel, various sets of rolled steel tracks peering out through the accumulation of green vines. “Hurry up!” Franklin exclaims, waving his hand toward the distant pair before being forced to huddle toward the ground again, a fifth set of gunshots ripping through the sky as Jack and Nessie defy their intended effects, using the valuable seconds to reconvene with their group. “Follow the tracks!” Jack groans, stepping past Clint and Franklin on his way to the group’s forefront, taking leadership of their collective charge toward the world beyond, their hopes left to depend on Celia’s word. == Rise == |
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