S6, E1 | Closest Confidants

​Season 6 Premiere

“This doesn’t look good” Emilio groans, aided through a set of sliding glass doors and into an overcrowded emergency room. “No, it doesn’t” Alicia whispers, panning her eyes across the room to find every chair flooded with those wounded, the faces of the doctors and nurses that desperately cling to hope of restoring order visibly flushed with stress.

Whilst some patients shed horrified tears, others sit stoically, stone-faced in the presence of warfare. Gently leaving Emilio in Salem’s care, Alicia takes off after the nearest receptionist, the woman’s shapely figure eagerly stepping over the bloody tiles along the ground. “Excuse me?” Alicia inquires, forced to match the woman’s pace if any hope of offering her question is to be had, “how bad is what’s going on outside?”

“It’s bad- does the full E.R not tell you that?” the scrub-wearing woman responds, refocusing her attention on those that occupy the waiting room, “everyone that needs immediate care, check in at any of these desks!”

Moving aside for the horde of people to make a sprint toward the front of the line, Alicia returns to her friends with as few answers as she’d departed with. “Is this worse than we think?” the pregnant brunette woman inquires, leaving the question for either accompanying survivor to answer. “What exactly do we think?” Emilio retorts, the slight pain in his side only worsening with time, his voice becoming slightly weaker as the night moves forward.

“That people are firing bullets at whatever walks” Salem answers, her own back pressed against the concrete wall. The tip of her spear resting against the ground, Alicia responds. “The question is ‘why?’ and ‘how do we make them stop?’”

“Or rather ‘who are they?’” Emilio corrects, his face scrunching tightly as he lets out a sigh, partially in an effort of relieving his pain, “we only know a handful of-” Stopping himself short, Emilio’s face takes to the doors they’d entered through, where he’s afforded an unobstructed view of the street’s opposite end. “Get to cover” Emilio suddenly remarks, watching an assortment of guards hurry away from an unseen impending danger.

Neither woman budging at first, Emilio doubles down on his declaration, driving the women to the nearest source of protection. “Get to cover!” Emilio shouts for a second time, mustering the strength to tighten his arm’s grasp over Salem’s neck and take Alicia’s wrist into his grasp.

Lunging themselves behind the safety of the room’s unimpressive corner, the trio feel the ground shake beneath them as the sound of explosions burst closeby, able to retain their balance as the chaotic chatter of battle persists. Racing through the hospital’s entrance for cover, the surviving guards are greeted by the various sounds of screaming and howling, those they serve and protect yet to be accustomed to the ways of the world beyond Cumberland’s borders.

“Everyone get to-!” the foremost guard exclaims, his unit passing through in an effort of running to cover as the declaration is cut short by the sound of gunfire. In an instant, the patrol’s leader drops to his knees in the middle of the floor, pierced by multiple rounds of ammunition that tear through the emergency room’s uncovered entrance.

“Put your guns down and surrender!” the unit’s second in command exclaims, taking aim with his weapon at the souls that disembark the large vehicle that parks just outside. Not keen on obliging, the rebel forces open fire on the hospital, the gargantuan building’s life made obvious by the lights that stretch across each floor, electricity that Cumberland now mostly goes without.

Unphased by the display set before him, the eighteen wheeler’s driver climbs down from the driver’s seat, striking a match to the end of his dart as bullets rip through the air. Left with the choice to capture Cumberland by force or offer a last stand in defiance of Nova Scotia, Rocky blows his smoke into the night sky, watching it waft through the air before rejoining his forces, armed with little more than a handgun.

“What the hell do we do here?” Salem grunts, she and Alicia the only souls left with defence of any kind, though their respective mallet and makeshift spear fail to stack up against their assailants. An answer left unoffered, Emilio waits a few seconds before turning to the women beside him, somewhat surprised to find their collective sights already bestowed upon him.

Finding little reason to argue against their dependency on him for guidance, Emilio takes possession of the power he’s been offered control of. “You’re gonna take Alicia to whatever exit’s closest, and then you’re gonna get her to wherever you think is safe” Emilio replies, turning his focus away from Salem as his finger raises toward Alicia. “I don’t care if you want to fight- you’re pregnant, and we need you alive” Emilio remarks, refuting Alicia’s rebuttal before it can be offered.

“Where’s the safest place?” Salem inquires, again shielding herself from the return fire offered by those defending their home. “Wherever you think it is- I trust your instinct, you’ll find it!” Emilio responds, his hand resting on Salem’s shoulder as his voice lowers, their eyes making contact with each other, “I’m serious- I trust you.”

“And what are you gonna do!?” Alicia interjects, her concern for Emilio’s well-being made obvious. With confidence, Emilio guides Salem’s hand away from himself and onto their pregnant acquaintance, answering while he does so. “I’m gonna make sure the rest of us get on that first ride to Nova Scotia with you” the man remarks, leading the women to their feet before ushering them away from the chaos, “just get to safety and I’ll meet up with you when the coast is clear!”

Though understanding of her need to depart with Salem, Alicia struggles to leave Emilio behind, looking into the man’s eyes as she’s whisked through the nearest set of doors, unsure if the mental picture she’d snapped will be the last of him she’ll ever have the chance to see.

Arms covering the sides of his head, Emilio safeguards his ears from the insurgent’s counterattack, allowing the dust to settle before making his move.

Holding his crew’s fire, the second in command looks to his nearest comrade, recognising the curious look that’s given to him. “We have to give up ground!” the de facto general exclaims, displeased with the conclusion he’s been forced to make, “we don’t have the ammo to waste firing blindly!”

“This building’s already pushed past capacity! If we let them in, people are gonna die!” the bewildered unit member exclaims, again met with the sour truth. “People are already dying!” the new leader shouts back, covering himself from insurrectionist fire, “we sacrifice the few to save the many!”

Pressing his teeth together, the patrol member is forced into acceptance of his superior’s demands, aware of the fate that could befall him if defiance were to control his actions. Their shared inaction granting the rebellious forces the implication of triumph, the militia listens to the shattered glass gather at the floor, the first members of enemy fire stepping into the hospital’s boundaries.

Not obligated to follow the same mantra as those tasked with serving the masses, Emilio leaps into action, sliding into the deceased general’s body before retrieving his weapon. Thrust into action, Emilio fires off a few rounds in return to the rebels, shielded from their bullets by the corpse he’d taken cover behind.

Listening in for the emptying of magazines, Emilio takes his first opportunity to emerge from cover, his eyes narrowed as the weapon in his hand takes to his adversary. With two pulls of the trigger, Emilio spurts off a few rounds with tremendous accuracy, the foremost pair of trespassers falling to the ground before their empty clips can be replaced.

The orders he’s been given only allow him to watch on, the general’s subordinate sets his sights on Emilio, watching the man climb out from cover and open fire on those threatening their livelihoods. “He’ll get himself killed, but he’ll buy us some breathing room” the de facto general murmurs to himself, biding his time as he waits for their brazen-faced to earn his infamy at the expense of his life.

His higher-ranking comrade’s shallow outlook on the situation beginning to sour on him, the order-obeying crew mate becomes less keen on allowing the masses to die, deciding for himself that the rules he follows are one’s made of cowardice and self-sufficiency. Each further round Emilio fires empowering him, the compliant guard suddenly turns deviant, emerging from cover with an assist in mind.

“Duck and cover!” a voice calls out from the larger emergency room, catching Emilio’s attention at the last possible moment, the one-man wrecking crew guiding himself to the nearest protection. Through the narrow corridor, an explosive flies through the air, its shell hurled past Emilio’s head as it soon collides with the ground, bouncing through the front doors and into enemy forces.

Struck with a sudden jolt, Emilio feels the ground shake beneath him once more, the brief moment of terror-filled screams that arise from the hospital’s front silenced with a blast. Having braced for the sound he knew was inevitable, Emilio sets his sights on finishing the job at hand, removing himself from the building’s divider and setting his sights on the front lot.

Taking his sights toward whatever moves, Emilio fires off one round after another, spilling blood wherever he sees fit until the big rig’s engine begins roaring. With a screech, the vehicle pulls off into the night, its trailer taking extensive damage from Emilio as its outer shell is pierced by countless bullets, the cabin and its driver, however, allowed to escape further into Cumberland’s horrified streets.

Surrounded by death, Emilio stands in the centre of a corpse-filled sea of broken asphalt and explosive-aftermath, watching what remains of those responsible escape justice for the time being with a disgusted look.

= 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 =

“Agghh, fuuu-” Jack weakly groans, his hands hanging over his head as his eyes open, his vision somewhat blurry and the world around him oddly quiet, even for the apocalypse. “Where- am- I?” Jack whispers, feeling his knuckles press against the roof of his vehicle as he dangles above it, his perception of reality skewed beyond without any true understanding as to why.

“On three!” a man with a much deeper voice proclaims, his hand wrapped around Jack’s neck as a much softer pair of hands caress his hanging arms and upper back. “One- two-” the man proclaims in quick succession, Jack’s eyes slowly guiding themselves toward the sound of his voice, unable to comprehend what’s happening, “three!”

His seatbelt sliced at with a pocket knife, Jack’s body falls from its suspended position, returning to the ground with the comfort of various hands to catch him. “What’s- what!?” Jack shouts, trying to fight off the aid he’s being offered, though it pains him too greatly for reluctance to appear feasible. “Jack- Jack stop!” the deep voice commands, still met with hassle as the wounded man contests the help, refusing to give into the demands made of him.

Already dazed and confused, the firm slap that meets the side of Jack’s face surrenders him to the care of those assisting him, the unwillingness to give into such orders ceasing upon the assault. With a final tug, the group effort prevails, dragging Jack from an overturned vehicle and onto glass-covered asphalt, the man’s face as cut and sliced as the rest of his group.

“Please tell me you remember who I am” Franklin mutters, the request made both as a joke and as a fair concern. His eyelids pressing closely together, Jack pulls his head up as his hands sit atop his abdomen, barely able to make out his friend’s face. “Oh-fucking-hell” Jack groans, a response the rest of his group has yet to discern the implications of, the man’s eyes meeting Franklin’s once more, “even with cuts and scars on your face- you’re still more handsome than me.”

Bowing his head, Franklin shares a laugh with Jack in a moment of relief, watching Nessie’s hands wipe the blood from the man’s face. “What happened?” Jack wonders aloud, digging his elbows into the rough roadway as he sits up, the van they’d piled into now left laying on its hood in the middle of the quiet street. “We- uh- we had a little disagreement with the driver” Franklin responds, following Jack’s face to the dead body lying face-down in the road, “we sort of won.”

“Yeah- I can- see that” Jack replies, nodding his head as he surveys their immediate surroundings, a siren blaring in the distance as a spotlight flashes through the night sky. “Well, what do we do now?” Jack inquires, his back pressing into Nessie’s knee as Clint begins to speak. “We need to get out of here- that’s what we need to do” the man answers, met with immediate reluctance from his sister.

“Clint, there’s no way they’re letting anyone past the exits. If we try to escape, we’ll be as good as dead” Nessie quips, finding quick support from the one-armed brute of a man. “Ness is right, we’re not getting out of here. The best we can do is hide out somewhere and figure out a plan” Franklin reassures, able to see the scepticism in Clint’s face.

“Neither plan bodes well for us, does it?” Clint queries, the answer to his question too difficult for most to say aloud. “We’ll probably need a miracle- or a really understanding dictator” Jack remarks, not holding back the common scepticism he and Clint know themselves to be rooted within, “at least hunkering down somewhere will give us time to pull a rabbit out of our hat.”

Sharing looks to each other in silence, the group comes to the same conclusion, understanding the need to act quickly. “We should get going then” Nessie speaks aloud, pulling away from beneath Jack to help him to his feet, Clint’s efforts spent looting the vehicle they’d overturned.

Guided away from her tucked-away corner of the home, an older woman cautiously approaches the rapid tapping of knuckles at her front door. “Please, we need help!” a distressed woman cries out, her sincere tone lulling the frail home owner into a sense of comfort. Slowly unlocking the deadbolt, the woman peers through a crack in the door, the four unfamiliar faces that stand on her porch meeting her face with fearful expressions.

“Oh, thank god! Our car was hit in the middle of the road and my brother’s hurt!” Nessie exclaims, an act worthy of a plethora of awards put on as she and Franklin lift up a hobbling Jack. “We were trying to get him to the hospital, but it’s not letting new people in!” Franklin furthers, his softest possible tone put on for the elderly lady, “can we stay with you for a few hours? Just until everything dies down?”

With a second quick glance at the wounded Jack, the sincere Nessie and the silent Clint, the woman inspects the foursome that stand before her, eyes eventually travelling back to Franklin. Without a word, the woman lets the door open further, stepping away from the entrance to allow the small group her hospitality. “Thank you so much” Franklin grumbles, lifting Jack off his feet and carrying him through the door, Clint and Nessie following soon after.

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“These things don’t look like they run” Salem remarks, travelling through the dark sky whilst leading Alicia to the sanctuary of an abandoned set of rail cars. “This is what you consider ‘safe’?” Alicia wonders aloud, still able to hear explosions in the near distance, the sirens just as audible as they were an hour prior. “Yeah, yeah- I get it- I’ll be the best aunt ever” Salem quips, sliding the large doors open one by one in search of a suitable residency.

Rolling her eyes in amusement, Alicia follows Salem along the tracks, instinctively glancing back and forth at each end of the rail line every few seconds as if worried a train were bound for them. “Jackpot!” Salem exclaims, throwing her mallet into the empty caboose before climbing aboard, her hands extended toward her shadow, “come on in- the weather’s great!”

Again incapable of not taking amusement from Salem’s jokes, Alicia follows the woman’s lead, her feet pressing into the metal supports as she’s hoisted into the empty compartment. “For a 50’s era train- this isn’t that bad” Alicia remarks, her first glance at the interior finding dust-covered furniture and greatly-outdated technology awaiting her discovery.

“Well, we didn’t rely on cars and trucks for everything decades ago. Trains were superior to- well- everything” Salem responds, smacking the cushion of a nearby chair repeatedly as she continues, “it makes sense that the crew would have something resembling comfort.”

Remaining a participant in the conversation, Alicia’s journey takes her throughout the wider-than-anticipated cabin, eyes wandering throughout the decor of a bygone era. “I guess that’s fair” the woman ripostes, dusting off a bulbous kettle left upon a stovetop, “it’s a shame they’ll never come around again.”

“What? The trains or the people?” Salem asks aloud, drawing Alicia’s eyes back toward her direction. “Both” the woman answers, swatting at an empty seat a short distance away before occupying it, the room’s length separating the girls from each other. “I don’t think either were bound for the future” Salem remarks, her pessimistic honesty prevailing through moments of soft, welcomed peace.

“We’re still here” Alicia corrects, watching Salem’s finger quickly tap against the side of her head in silence, its tip pointing in her own direction as Salem begins to respond. “We were strong ones. We earned our place in the world” the mallet-toting badass reassures, resting back in her seat once more, arms draped over each wooden support at her sides, “everyone else fought each other for the scraps we were left. They couldn’t see the big picture, and that’s why it all went to shit.”

Bobbing her head, Alicia admits to seeing the truth presented in Salem’s remark, though her sights switch to alternative takes. “That could be true- but what if it isn’t?” the woman inquires, slowly caressing the near-noticeable baby bump through her oversized shirt, “what if we were just the people that got lucky? Found a car when we needed to, took a road that kept us from meeting our doom- something like that?”

Her lips puckered, Salem’s smirk appears as she nods, slightly unsure of how to respond, a stance that brings a smile upon Alicia’s face. “I guess the point is- we’re still here regardless” Salem answers, crossing one leg over the other as Alicia’s chin lowers, the friendly debate bringing a warmth over an already-stuffy train cabin.

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“Emilio!” Archie calls out, adorning a bulletproof vest just as the men that surround him do, the man’s isolated presence drawing intrigue. “Word to the wise- it might not be smart to stand in the open with an automatic rifle in your arms right now” the oldest McKee sibling advises, approaching the heroic civilian before thinking to speak with his militia.

Lowering his weapon, Emilio lets Archie’s armed personnel surround him, shielding the pair from the potential ambush that may await them. “What went on in there?” Archie inquires, his question answered with an apathetic, protective tone from his armed citizen. “They tried to attack the hospital, I pushed them back, most of them died and a few got away” Emilio remarks in quick succession, little more to add than that, “is that all?”

His mouth slightly ajar, Archie lowers his chin just as he lowers his voice, a side-eye passed to the surviving members of their militia near the hospital’s top-most steps. “Not- not exactly” the man answers, gently pressing his hand against Emilio’s side, steering the man and his own armoured detail further from the medical building.

“Listen. The power may have gone out, but the landlines are still operational” Archie clarifies, “when Jade got the call that some hispanic guy jumped in the line of fire and pinned back an entire army- she had her suspicions of who it was.”

“Should I assume standing in the middle of the road with an assault rifle served as your confirmation?” Emilio inquires, a surprising head shake returned to him quickly. “No, I was just as sure as Jade was- that’s why I came out here” Archie answers, Emilio’s inquiry made immediately upon his conclusion.

“And why exactly are you out here?” Emilio wonders aloud, his quickly-spoken question met with an exceptionally long pause, Archie’s hesitation to answer only prompting Emilio’s guard to raise. “Because we’re pretty sure this isn’t going to end tonight” Archie responds, his voice lowering slightly as his mouth moves closer to Emilio’s ear, “they stormed through the rear gate- damn near discovered Rawson.”

“What? Hold on- who?” Emilio inquires, the answer he’d anticipated being among the least likely possibilities suddenly climbing up the list, “aren’t these people from inside the camp?”

“No! It’s an entirely different camp from out in Massachusetts!” Archie responds, trying to maintain his whisper-like tone, “we’re not being overthrown- we’re being invaded!”

His head pulling back, Emilio looks to Archie with widened eyes, the feeling in his hands replaced with a ‘pins and needles’ sensation. “We’d been using them for Nova Scotia to dock at their ports, but it seems they caught onto it” Archie explains, seemingly unopposed to divulging this information, “they sunk our flagship freighter and made the trip out here. They invaded through the rear-entry and split up from there. They’re like termites! They’re eating at our every corner!”

“Don’t you have a patrol out looking for them!?” Emilio’s ability to speak suddenly returns, his follow-up questions appearing in full. “Of course we do, but do I need to remind you how small our population is!?” Archie queries, “it’s our militia of- what? A little over a thousand?- against damn near an entire compound thirsting for blood! How the hell is that mess something we can clean up anytime soon!?”

“Well, what the hell are you telling me this for!?” Emilio silently questions, holding as much vigour as Archie had mere moments prior, “go tell your militia where to go next!”

“Those pricks just attacked the hospital, how the fuck am I supposed to justify leaving this place unguarded!?” Archie responds, leaving Emilio short for alternatives. “Nova Scotia already knew Rockford went south when the freighter didn’t return their call, they had their militia on standby” Archie furthers, continuing to bridge the gap between Emilio and Cumberland’s leadership. 

“Jade sent in the call an hour ago, I’m sure we’re important enough for them to already have about twenty-thousand troops on the road for us- something like this is unprecedented” Archie continues, finally arriving at the point he’d shown up to make, “well- almost unprecedented.”

His eyes pressing together out of confusion, Emilio watches the expression on Archie’s face begin to change, a response Emilio slowly uses to make assumptions over. “I know they’re not real, but Jade has almost a photographic memory. The moment she got word back from Nova Scotia, your group was the first thing to come into her mind” Archie explains, a remark that brings a bow over Emilio’s head, “if there’s any force greater than Nova Scotia, it’s the people that created it.”

“John created it” Emilio immediately retorts, his chin still lowered despite his eyes raising, the glare he gives to Archie of no importance in the McKee sibling’s eyes. “All of you created it. Nova Scotia emerged from the New World Order’s ashes, and it was the lot of you that burned it to rubble” Archie clarifies, continuing to speak despite the shaking head Emilio answers him with, “however you see it- it doesn’t matter. Jade wants you and your group on top of this.”

“On top of what?” Emilio hisses, his face filling with frustration as he speaks, “for one- more of our people from the New World Order are dead than alive. And second, you chose to leave two of those people behind in Providence!”

“And we’ll go out looking for them! We’ll bring them into Cumberland, we’ll set them up with a home, and we’ll give them every accommodation they could ever dream of!” Archie proclaims, his voice lowering once more, “that is- if you agree to help us.”

“Your bold remarks still fail to answer my question-” Emilio responds, his voice matching Archie’s low tone as their faces near closer, “help you with what!?”

“Help us track down the people that invaded our home! Help us clean up, restore good faith with the people, not shoot ourselves in the foot, everything!” Archie remarks, the past of those he asks for the aid of proving to be an invaluable commodity, “we need you all to be our closest confidants. We need you all on the inside, we need you to help keep us in the people’s favour, we need you keeping everyone’s spirits high, we need you to be Cumberland!”

Though still insulted from Archie’s prior comparison, Emilio’s mind warms up to the idea, aware of the importance of what’s asked of him, and aware of the fruits their labour can present. “What are we getting out of it in return?” Emilio queries, his voice shifting with the redirection of their conversation, Archie’s attempts at persuasion now shifting in favour of Emilio’s attempts at negotiation.


“Whatever we can give you” Archie answers, his initial response brief and straight-forward, “we’ll set you all up with homes on Rawson Road, pay you all handsomely, give you an in on the leaders conference’s Jade attends, give you say and veto power in the settlement’s plans- whatever you want!”

His expression softening upon Archie’s ultimate declaration, Emilio allows the man to continue as one request tops his mind, pulling him in like bait at the end of a fishing line. “We’ll make the entire settlement know you’re just as influential as us. It may have only been six months, but in the apocalypse, people show their true colours pretty quickly” Archie furthers, “but we’ve already been around you long enough to know we can trust you. We’re offering a hand we’ve never extended before.”

Chin tilting high, Emilio’s eyes press close together as they take toward Archie’s own, the man finding an impeccable confidence in the moment he’d rarely held before. “We want to be on the first trip out to Nova Scotia” Emilio responds, a petition that produces no change in Archie’s posture. “Done. You’ll all be on the first trip out, you have our promise” the man responds, extending his hand with his fingers spread outward, “we don’t break our promises.”

The air silent, Emilio lets the rifle switch from his right hand to his left, his free hand resting by his side for a few seconds before lifting. Their palms colliding, Emilio and Archie’s fingers wrap around each other’s dorsal, their arms shifting through the air as they shake upon their deal, Emilio’s group finally punching their ticket to a forever home.

== Rise ==