S6, E2 | The Outside Calls to Orleans Island

Its hooves dashing over rich, fertile soil, a horse sprints through tall grass and nature-covered asphalt roads, led by the ropes that tie to either side of its halter. “Ouvrez les portes !” a man orders, standing at the centre of a large, open campground with his hands by his hips, taking notice of his fellow survivor’s return the moment they catch his ear.

Through the makeshift barrier, the horse and its rider depart the scenes of a decrepit downtown, the overgrowth they’ve travelled across fading as the roads return to the well-manicured state they’d once been known to exist as. A leather cap worn over her head and a cloth gaiter worn over her face, the woman and her horse join the declarative man on a long bridge over the St. Lawrence River.

“Find anything?” the denim-jacketed man inquires with eagerness, his arms crossed as a steady wind blows over his face, his hair maintained with such dignity that it shines vibrantly beneath the summer’s sun. “Just more of the same” the woman replies, pulling down her face covering as she sheds the chapeau from atop her head, her horse walking with the man down the bridge’s length, “more of the dead and less of the living. The apocalypse at its barest.”

Disappointed, the man refuses to show his acquaintance such dejection, wearing a smile and a cheerful expression. “That’s alright, Princess Katie” the man jokes, looking up at the woman as he follows his horse’s lead to their home island, “if they’re still around today, they’ll be around tomorrow.”

Consistently tempted with success, Katie finds herself discouraged further with each wasted effort, each empty-handed return leaving her more exhausted. With a few silent moments spent continuing to venture down the bridge’s length, a thought is raised into Katie’s mind, struggling to present itself as doubts creep into the woman’s head, convincing her not to question the man’s motivations.

However strong her concerns may be, the question never truly subsides, each second the pair spend in silence threatens to rip the query from Katie’s head by force. “Comment évolue la langue du peuple ?” the man suddenly questions, comforting Katie as their shared journey continues, having picked up on the uncomfortable nature she’d begun to present.

Saved from her own self-dismantling, Katie digests the inquiry made, challenging herself to conjure a full sentence quietly before uttering a word. “J'apprends vite. Je pense que le français s'en sort bien. Est-ce que ça se voit ?” the woman murmurs, her voice gradually beginning to lower as her response begins to reach its natural conclusion. His eyes widening slightly as his lips pucker, the man looks Katie in the eyes with a subtle nod, visibly impressed.

“Très bien !” the jean-jacket fashioned man replies, watching the accomplished look of satisfaction come over the woman, “Je commence à comprendre pourquoi Orléans commence à t'apprécier.”

Taking a moment to double-check her translation, Katie’s smile holds firm, appreciative of the kind words. “Je suis satisfait des progrès, mais il y a quelque chose dont je veux vous parler” Katie proceeds, her older companion letting his humorous and fun-appreciating demeanour retract, “Ça vous dérange si on utilise ma langue maternelle ?”

Coupling his hands behind his back, the man gives Katie an approving nod, the rubber soles of his shoes crunching upon grains of sand and loose pebbles that occupy the bridge’s asphalt surface. “English or French- speak with which you please” the man answers, tilting his chin toward the air in Katie’s direction as they near the bridge’s end, “is there something wrong?”

With a subtle squint, Katie shakes her head in refusal, watching a second set of gates pull apart as their conversation progresses. “It’s not that there’s something wrong, it’s that there’s something I don’t understand” Katie corrects, returning home to an island that exemplifies what self-sustainability in a post-apocalyptic world is.

“You have all of this” Katie proclaims, extending her hand toward a sea of flatland lined with small villages, various cottages, and an abundance of arable land, all of which pops with the colours of various produce, “why would you need anything from the outside world?”

His lip curling, the man presents a smile, his head shaking as he looks toward the bountiful offerings his island presents, his answer interrupted before having the chance to make itself heard. “And Astor- don’t give me some whimsical fantasy about how we can build a new society, or some bogus like that” Katie warns, her hand gently resting upon the man’s shoulder, “the world outside of Orleans is a nasty place. How could you think you’d need anything from it?”

His face straightening, Astor’s gleeful expression subsides at Katie’s behest, their slow journey carrying them back to solid ground, where the asphalt has been ripped up and replaced with dirt. “Because we need to keep ourselves honest -Nous ne pouvons pas nous mettre à l'aise -we can’t hide from the world forever” the man responds honestly, a remark his acquaintance finds difficult to refute, “you came from America. If you found us all these years later, so too can anyone else.”

“But you don’t need to invite trouble your way in order to know how to deal with it” Katie responds, a gesture that doesn’t discourage the man’s rationales, “pourquoi inonderiez-vous votre maison pour vous préparer à un tsunami ?”

“Pour savoir quand le tsunami est passé” Astor replies, unwavering in his stoic approach to the nature of their shared world, “when you isolate yourself, you get to enjoy what you have at the cost of leaving yourself in the dark.” Her lips pressing together, Katie looks to Orleans’ commander with lowered eyes, unable to find common ground with the man’s ideals in this instance.

Her head hung, Katie digests Astor’s remarks for a moment as worry begins to fester deep within her mind, her dissatisfaction with Astor’s decision angering her the longer it remains the conversation’s topic. With hopes of avoiding an outburst, Katie takes her horse’s lead and quickens her pace, hurrying away from Astor’s side with her sights set on returning home, the open field and farmhouse she calls home the only destination on her mind.

= Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards =

“Why is it such a problem?” a voice inquires from Katie’s side, their conversation one of many that happen around the outer grounds of a cosy and quaint winery. “Because this place is too good for the world out there, Aude!” Katie answers, frustrated at the lack of support her stance gathers, accepting the views of those that surround her, though left with the feeling that she’s alone in her beliefs, “places like these don’t get to live in this world.”

Her elbows pressing into the top of a barrel that had been fashioned into a table, Katie stares at the waters of the St. Lawrence River from above the hill she and her friends reside upon, her battle garb from earlier replaced in favour of a white t-shirt and a pair of denim overalls. “You can see his point though, right?” a man questions, his hand resting on the small of Aude’s back as he lowers his wine glass to the table.

“When all of this hell began, my brother and I were constantly in-and-out of our camp. We knew what rust meant in a live-or-die situation-” Katie answers, her eyes steadily meeting the man’s, “-of course I see his point, Blaise.”

“I think Blaise means something different” a man, the fourth and final member of the conversation, corrects, “- Tu veux dire quelque chose de différent ?”

“I’m no less able to speak English than I was five seconds ago, Max” the blonde man in the plaid, button-up shirt remarks. “I’d still like to learn French, wouldn’t you mind playing along every once in a while?” Max pleads, putting forward his playful request for active participation in a way to present the group with humour.

“Kidding aside, I think he’s more asking if you can understand his reasoning” the non-bilingual man inquires, his left foot hanging off the barstool’s footrest, “why he’d sacrifice this place’s beauty if it means being in touch with what’s outside?”

“Then no, I can’t” Katie replies, gently swirling her red wine around the glass’ bowl as she leans back, “we don’t need anything more than what we have. Opening up to the world is only worthwhile if there’s something we need from it.”

“Society has to rebuild someday” Aude quickly responds, watching Katie’ sights set upon her, the drink in the woman’s hand no longer actively swirling, “we can’t stay hidden in these dark ages forever.” Her eyes pressing closer together, Katie leans further back in her seat, resting her drink on the barrel’s surface as she lets Aude’s declaration settle, their meals brought to the table in the time it takes her to form a retort.

“How do you know the society that’s being built is one worth living in?” Katie wonders aloud, pondering the question few people have dared to ask, let alone consider. “I’ve seen the people that lead this movement to rebuild society. They may seem righteous, but they just perpetuate the same greed that got us here in the first place” the hardened survivor remarks, able to see a hope in the eyes of those that surround her, a hope she fails to remember the feeling of.

Spirits somewhat lowered, the trio that join Katie remain somewhat quiet, letting the woman stare into each of their eyes with an expression equal in parts judgemental as it is saddened. Not one to be discouraged from a good meal, Blaise slides his silverware from the cloth napkin it was wrapped within and swirls a forkful of pasta around the utensil.

“It’d be a slap in the face of evolution to spend the rest of our days in hiding” Blaise finally answers, a light blow to the heap of alfredo sauce-covered dinner at the end of his fork, “Astor- quite correctly, in my opinion- understands that.”

Quiet, Katie watches the blonde man press his lips against the metal prongs and slides his rolled spaghetti onto the surface of his tongue, the flavours both immaculate and divine. “We’re not hiding- we’re surviving” the discussion’s opposing figure responds, reclaiming her glass of wine before putting down a quarter of it, “we’re living a life that anyone- be it stranded in the middle of the wilderness, or forced to fight through those concrete jungles out there- would be envious of.”

“That shouldn’t stop us from wanting more” Aude swiftly debates, reclaiming Katie’s sole focus, “we rebuilt society like we dreamed of doing when this all started. Shouldn’t we want to strive for more?” Folding her hands atop their dinner table, Katie lets Aude’s question settle with her just as she’d allowed the other points made to do.

Parting her lips to speak, the American woman with a laundry list of lost souls in her rear-view mirror remains silent, unable to answer adequately as she’d like. Her face warmed by the plate of steaming vegetables and cooked fish before her, Katie’s opposite begins to wane as her face looks to the meal beside her assorted silverware. “Maybe” Katie answers, sliding her fork and knife from their respective places before digging into her meal, letting the discourse pass with a hush.

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“Good boy” Katie whispers, tying her horse’s lead to a rusty pipe in an underground parking garage as she pats his snout, “you keep watch for me, alright?” Adjusting her cloth face covering and leather hood, Katie shines a flashlight through the water-covered ground she steps through, the sublevel she occupies slightly submerged by the rainwater that uses it as a halfway point before reaching the garage’s drainage system.

Undisturbed by the murky conditions she steps through, Katie arms herself with a knife as her flashlight shines upon a door near the open space’s rear, the sunlight of a new day not presenting her with enough guiding light. Sloshing through ankle-deep waves, Katie breaks through the flora that holds her exit point shut, entering the stairwell that promises to lead her toward the destination at hand.

“The things I do for home” Katie murmurs beneath her breath, a rope fastened around her waist as its second end ties around the sturdiest electrical box her surroundings can offer. Face bathed in a bright light, Katie peers toward the heavens, the hand she holds a can of spray paint in affording her coverage from the sun that burns intensely just overhead.

Taking a look to her side, Katie’s eyes fall upon the long drop to the ground from the rooftop she stands upon, a sloping green curve to the summit she must descend makes her stomach churn. “Pense juste aux bons moments” Katie murmurs beneath her breath, pressing her eyes together as her chin lifts toward the clear, blue sky, “Pense juste aux bons moments.”

Letting free a sigh of relief, Katie lifts her right leg over the nearest divider, putting her faith in the rope that soon serves as the only thing sparing her from certain death. “This part never gets any easier, does it?” Katie mutters to herself, cautiously balancing herself upon the pinnacle of gothic architecture before readying the spray can for the task at hand.

With a few motions of her hand, Katie plastered the green rooftop with a set of white letters, a message delivered to the heavens and those that travel beneath its vantage point. “Follow the St. Lawrence-” Katie whispers to herself, reading her own scrawling aloud before calling its legibility into question, “that’s clear enough, right?”

With a subtle nod, the woman clasps her hands around the thick rope and begins to return the way she’d arrived, a momentary sound in the distance just barely managing to claim her ear.

Like a cat drawn to the sound of a mouse, Katie’s eyes take to the clouds, searching for the hum that she’s confident in having heard many times before. Her faith remaining entrusted within the restraints, Katie withdraws the rifle from her back and presses her knee into the concrete steep, hanging halfway between the roof and a seven-story descent into death with her eye pressed to the weapon’s scope.

“Where the fuck are you?” Katie questions aloud, only interested in the answer presenting itself physically, the backdrop of puffy white clouds amidst a light blue sky nothing less than perfect in Katie’s eyes.

Her finger resting on the trigger, Katie slowly pans her scope across the sky, aiming toward the direction of the sound before she inevitably uncovers a familiar sight, the dark parachute that soars high above the ground giving flight to a single woman with a motor strapped to her back. “Where are you off to, lady?” Katie wonders to herself quietly, following the woman’s trail whilst assessing the direction she flies.

“What are you doing so far out from Monc-?” Katie begins to whisper, her inquiry cut short as the pressure of the rope around her chest increases, pulling her back to the rooftop with great force. Caught by surprise and seemingly outnumbered, Katie prepares herself for the potential of what lies ahead, little option left at her disposal as the plummet back toward earth’s surface remains as viable a threat as any other.

Back where she’d begun, Katie topples over the ledge she’d climbed over, rifle aimed at her sudden guests the moment she collides with solid ground once more. “Back up!” Katie exclaims, attempting to place her finger against the trigger to no effect, her lights put out beneath the force of a heavy boot that catches her between the eyes, snuffing out her fight just as quickly as it had presented itself.

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“I told you, I’m fine” Katie stubbornly remarks, sliding her arm into the sleeve of a flannel shirt as she climbs off the examining table, her nose bloodied, eye blackened, and brow cut. “I don’t doubt that, and I’m sure you’ve seen worse on the road- but we need to err on the side of caution” Astor responds, trying to dissuade Katie from leaving the doctor’s room by blocking her exit, his repeated failures to do so exploited with ease.

“Oh, do we!?” Katie exclaims, stopping her progression forward as her head pulls back, an immediate look of insult worn over her face. “Why is it that now- when we actually meet the people you want to get into contact with- we have to err on the side of caution?” the woman queries, a reasonable question to ask, “you’ve literally got me climbing onto rooftops and spray painting directions to our home- but now is when you choose to err on the side of caution? Give me a break!”

Her irritation increasing, Katie jabs at Astor’s side with her shoulder, brushing past the man on her way through the door. “Katie, do not talk to me like that” Astor warns, his face beginning to wear a look of dissatisfaction at the woman’s demeanour as his legs carry him in the woman’s direction, “you will not disrespect me like that.”

Pausing her exit mid-step, Katie freezes in the middle of the hallway, the eyes she’d directed toward the building’s exits now refocusing upon the man behind her. “This is still my camp, and I am still the man that graciously let you inside” Astor continues, the woman he speaks to now gradually turning back in his direction, a look of awe in her expression, “do not mistake my kindness as an invitation for you to step all over me, or question my leadership.”

Her facial muscles beginning to scrunch, Katie approaches her leader with poise, her open hands held by each side as their eyes lock. “Or what?” Katie wonders aloud, concealing her challenge of Astor’s insinuations as her head sways, the confidence exuding from each uttered syllable, “are you gonna kick me out?”

Grimacing, Astor’s nose begins to compress, his nostrils flaring as Katie’s bold replies are made, daring him to stand by the claims it’s become too late to retract. “Maybe if you had a wife and some kids, you’d be less interested in getting the people in your cosy little town killed” the woman ripostes, narrowing her eyelids as she inches closer to the town’s leader, “you’d understand how precious life is. Maybe you’d be less likely to place bets with it if you knew how much you’d lose.”

“You should stop before you step any further out of line” Astor warns, quickly finding himself tempted by Katie’s intentional confrontation. “It seems like the only way to guarantee I’ll live through this demonstration of yours is to step out of line anyway- so, what do I have to lose?” Katie inquires, her voice lowering as she nears closer, “I’ve survived out there on my own without your help, you’d be wrong if you think I couldn’t do it again.”

His chin lifting, Astor attempts to maintain eye contact with the woman, though her progression forward inevitably forces his glance to the side. “Aude made a compelling point to me last night- she said we should strive for more than just rebuilding society. I didn’t want to admit it, but I agree with her” the woman confesses, drawing nearer as she removes the rifle from across her back, her eyes pressing closer together, “but even if we should strive for more- that doesn’t mean we’re ready to.”

Recentring his attention on the woman, his eyes watching the rifle ready itself for an assault, Astor brings to light the question Katie’s open-ended explanation leaves him with. “Who is ‘we’re?’- Is it us, or is it you?” the man inquires, adjusting the collar of his button-up shirt as Katie lifts the barrel of her weapon toward his throat, steadying the barrel against his neck whilst Astor lets her, refusing to present the weakness displays such as Katie’s were designed to extract.

“I don’t trust people- not most, anyway” Katie responds, her head tilting to one side as she plays with the concept of tempting Astor’s fate, “they always hide their true colours.” Letting out a deep sigh, the island’s leader lifts his arms from his sides, extending his palms toward the pair of walls that surround them.

“You don’t have to agree with the decisions I make for my people, but you’re not going to question my devotion to keeping them safe at whatever costs” Astor remarks, closing his eyes as his face looks to the sky, “if that involves dying for my people- I’ll die.”

The weapon held steady, Katie lets a few additional seconds pass before making her decision, a momentary look at the man’s face making it possible to see the peace he’d made with whatever fate awaited him. The stoic posture of the arm falling, Astor’s life is allowed to continue, the weapon he’d been held at the mercy of falling barrel-first toward the ground.

“You have fun with that” Katie replies, returning the rifle to her back as she turns around, making for the exit with her mind made, “you can kill your flock, but you won’t kill me.”

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Filling a knapsack with some loose clothes, a knife and whatever ammunition she’d entered Orleans Island with, Katie prepares her departure from the town’s good graces. “You don’t need to stand across the room watching me pack my shit like a creep” the woman proclaims, calling out to the man she knows stands in the doorway behind her from the shadow his figure casts on her floor, “-I know you don’t agree with this.”

His arms crossed, Max steps away from the doorframe he’d pressed the side of his body against, entering Katie’s room quietly before taking a seat on her already-stripped bed. “I think you’re making a mistake, and I don’t like the idea of being the only non-Quebecois member of our friend group” Max replies, shrugging as his head shakes, “-you can have your pick about why I don’t like this.”

With a sigh, Katie fastens the strap of her rifle over her chest, the knapsack she’d filled to her liking joining the barrel of her weapon as it peeks over her right shoulder. “Let Blaise and Aude know that I wish them the best, will you?” Katie requests, patting Max on the back before stepping out of the room, carrying herself to the home’s exit.

“If you’re so confident that we’re giving ourselves up to the bad guys, then let’s have a little thought experiment, shall we?” Max inquires, walking after the leather-capped woman as she makes for her trusty steed, “tell me why- aside from their political opinions- we need to sound the alarm on the end times.”

“I’m not playing this game, Max” Katie quickly replies, laughing as her head shakes, the saddle she straddles prepared for the long night that lies ahead. “Who said this is a game? I’m asking a simple question” the bulky man remarks, his scuffed boots stepping through mud as Katie prepares her departure.

“Because the people in charge are evil. And if I can’t trust the people in charge, I can’t trust anything that follows them” Katie replies, an answer that Max finds to be nothing less than fair. “In that same breath, let me ask you another question” Max proceeds, his arm resting on the saddle just beside Katie’s leg, “if you trusted Astor enough to come onto the island, why can’t you trust his judgement?”

“Because he hasn’t seen what I’ve seen” Katie answers just as swiftly as she’d done throughout the night, “I trust that he’s doing this for a good reason, what I don’t trust is-”

Cutting herself off mid-sentence, Katie sets her sights on the waterfront a few short kilometres from their spacious front yard, barely able to notice large outlines treading over the water’s surface beneath the guise of night. “Do you see that?” Katie inquires, her eyes squinting as her head pushes forward, eyes setting more stoically upon the curious sights she’d yet to discern from anything suspicious.

“Stay here, Royo” Katie remarks, petting her horse’s head as she suddenly disembarks, the rifle held at her abdomen as she nears the coastline of St. Lawrence’s River with Max in tow. “Are those boats?” Max wonders aloud, quickening his pace to keep up with the roommate he’d come too close to losing.

Refusing to answer, Katie’s approach of the waterfront ceases without warning, prompting Max to take concern over the display provided to him. “Katie, what’s wrong?” Max wonders aloud, looking into the woman’s face as her eyes take toward the glistening river, the vessel she looks at presenting itself beyond denial.

“They found us” Katie mutters, staring into a spotlight aimed at a large warship’s side, where a woman stands in full display, her left hand waving a white flag beside a peace symbol, which adorns the craft’s starboard in white spray paint.

== Rise ==