S6, E3 | Who Do You Trust?

His heavy boots pressing into the steps he descends, Emilio watches his feet move from one platform to the next carefully, not yet comfortable with the home he’s been kindly rewarded with. Just beyond the staircase’s conclusion, the home’s front door presents Emilio with the beckoning call of his fellow neighbours, their knuckles tapping against the aluminium entrance.

As the sun begins to rise above Cumberland, Emilio’s eyes glance through a nearby window, the night sky just beginning to fall aside in favour of its dawn counterpart. With the turn of his wrist, Emilio exposes his home to the outside world, where Jade stands atop his front step. Her face filled with the exhaustion of at least one full day without sleep, Jade flashes her best smile, greeting Emilio with as kind of a demeanour as she can muster.

“Thanks for accepting” the woman casually murmurs, her pain hidden as she wastes little time in offering her gratitude. Though he’s more than able to answer with a light-hearted quip, Emilio’s mind rests on their shared disappointment in the circumstances at hand, “I’m sorry this happened.” With a sigh, Jade nods her head, her lips turning upward as she smiles again, this time without showing her teeth, “I am too.”

Their eyes keeping upon each other for a moment, Emilio breaks their silent staredown, pulling aside to grant Cumberland’s commander entry to his home. “I wanted to run over some things before you got the group together” Jade explains, entering the foyer as she steps through the front door, her hands comfortably tucked into her back pockets, “-make sure this thing goes down without a hitch.”

Refusing to present much of a confrontational or argumentative display, Emilio gently shuts the door, his mouth kept shut in favour of keeping his ears receptive. “I’m not asking you to bring them back alive, but I’d appreciate it if you tried to. The town already knows that houses are to be checked, so you shouldn’t incur much issue” Jade informs, her left hand taken from behind herself as she rubs at her forehead, “if they don’t let you in, take that as a sign.”

Nodding, Emilio remains quiet, affording Jade nothing less than his full, undivided attention. “You’ll sweep everything from the freight line to Arnold Mills until mid-noon, then Nova Scotia’s crew will take over where you left off” the woman continues, forcing herself to recite the orders from memory, “after that, you’ll get home, change into something formal, and join me on the opposite side of town. I’m making a speech and I want your group there.”

Clear on what’s expected of him, Emilio waits a few moments following Jade’s conclusion, only speaking when the woman’s satisfaction has been met. “Need me to repeat any of that, or do you get it?” the tired figure of leadership inquires, waiting for the homeowner to answer her question, his response taking longer to find her ear than she’d anticipated.

His eyes narrowing, Emilio bobs his head toward the next room over as he leaves the barron entrance, stepping past Jade with his hands in his pockets. As ushered to, Cumberland’s figurehead follows the newest member of her inner circle through the equally-dispassionate living room as they enter an adjacent kitchen, a hot pot of coffee already waiting for them.

“How’re you holding up?” Emilio asks aloud, pulling out a chair on his way past the kitchen’s island, his destination set on the pair of mugs that await them. “As best I can, I suppose?” Jade ripostes, confused by the hospitality shown to her, both due to its infrequency and its suddenness.

Nodding his head once more, Emilio fills each mug halfway, their curved lips spout steam into the air as the man takes one ceramic cup into each hand. “You really don’t have to-” Jade begins to refuse, her hands held toward the presentation as Emilio cuts her off, placing one mug on the woman’s side whilst occupying the other.

“You won’t give yourself a minute to sit down, and your brothers won’t step in to make you” Emilio explains, extending his hand toward the still-empty stool, “take a second to breathe.” Her lips still parted from the response she’d initially begun offering, Jade keeps her eyes on Emilio as the muscles in her face ease, the tension in her body falling rapidly.

Her lips joining together, Jade climbs atop the wooden barstool, lifting her glass toward Emilio in a display of appreciation before taking the beverage to her lips. “How’s your family been holding up?” Emilio wonders aloud, watching the sour expression that suddenly comes upon Jade’s face as he slides a rack of sugar packets and creamer singles toward her side of the table.

“That’s what this is about?” Jade answers, tearing the lid to a pair of sugar pouches before emptying them into her warm drink, “you want to know about my family?” Pressing the drink between both hands, Emilio answers with little more than a shrug, watching the woman across from him empty an additional two creamers into what was once black coffee.

“I can’t imagine you get the chance to have many of those” Emilio answers, another sip taken from his piping beverage as Jade stirs the contents of her drink. “Don’t you think there’s a reason for that?” Jade inquires back, lifting her eyebrow as she reclaims possession of the ceramic cup, “-just take a second to think about what’s going on right now and wonder why I might not have much down time?”

“My question still stands” Emilio remarks, redirecting the conversation to the calm, personal matters that plague the reasoning behind their current intermingling. Her tongue pressing against the corner of her mouth as she downs another swig, this time with more delight, Jade repeats the question silently before providing an answer.

“They’re fine, I guess” the woman finally answers, crossing her left leg over her right, her left elbow pressing into the marble countertop she sits at, “we’re always doing our own things. It’s kind of hard to keep in touch like most families do.” His chin lifting ever-so slightly, Emilio returns his cup to the table’s surface, thinking of another qualm before Jade raises one of her own.

“How about yours?” the grey jacket-wearing, black jean-adorning lady of Cumberland queries, the three words left as is. “The husband’s been dead for, god- about two years now?” Emilio replies, his brown slacks clashing with the green t-shirt he wears, “mom and dad are long gone by now, I’d suppose- that doesn’t leave too much family for me, does it?”

“I wasn’t referring to them” Jade quickly corrects, gently tapping her heel against one of the stool’s wooden supports, “you’ve got as much love for your group as I have for my brothers. How are they?”

His stunted expression lingering for a few moments, Emilio’s head suddenly bows as he stares into the pool of black coffee held within his palms. “They’re coping” the man finally replies, the sound of birds flying just over the McKee Family’s lake to hum softly in the distance of his open windows, “getting over the people they’ve lost by trying to find comfort here.”

Smiling for a brief moment before tucking loose hairs behind her ear, Jade’s attention is reclaimed by Emilio’s follow-up. “How are you doing?” Emilio inquires, immediately drawing Jade’s mesmerising eyes toward his face, the answer to his question a difficult one both to offer and accept.

Parting her lips, Jade’s head tilts to her left shoulder, her eyes wandering toward the nearest window in search of providing her refuge to think. “I’m not-” Jade begins to murmur, interrupting herself as the remainder of her sentence has yet to present itself to her. “I’m not-” the woman again remarks, maintaining her pondering expression before letting it slip, her genuine thoughts proving too much to hide behind, the semi-confident posture she’d held falling into an uncertain curiosity.

The loose hairs falling from behind the ear she’d tucked them away to, Jade returns her focus in Emilio’s direction, the reply she provides emerging as nothing less than genuine. “I’m scared” the woman confesses, her voice still carrying its confident tone, though her face no longer holds the unbreakable demeanour it commonly does, “I think about what Cumberland is, and I worry about how it’ll carry on after all of this- about how the people will carry on after all of this.”

Beginning to nod, Jade’s mind continues to wrap itself around the concerns that course through her head, releasing the troubles she’d stored in the deepest recesses of her mind. “I thought I had everything figured out. I thought I could keep the dead and the bad away” Jade persists, speaking as if she’d torpedoed all that came before, as if the Cumberland that was will never exist once more.

“Everything we’ve built here is under threat” Jade continues, her visage turning into a bitter, vengeful display as her face keeps upon the man across from her. “I can’t afford to forget the mistakes I made that led up to this. I can’t let the world think they can walk in and steal our livelihoods” Jade concludes, her left hand balling into a fist as she takes a final swig of her drink, looking Emilio in the eyes as her proclamation is made, “I need to show them that Cumberland belongs to us.”

= 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 =

“Katie!” Aude exclaims, leading Blaise by the hand as she squeezes through a gathering of their homeland’s few thousand residents, “what’s going on!?” Her arms crossed, Katie takes a glance in her friends’ direction, responding as she relocates her attention toward the warships that dock directly off their coastline.

“Astor’s little experiment is paying off” Katie replies, her tone presenting those that stand alongside her with an unflattered disappointment. “Another colony found us!?” Blaise exclaims, his gleeful tone unmatched by the woman his inquiry is directed at, the experienced survivor’s chin lowered as her rifle rests against her side.

“Colony, settlement- it’s something” Katie answers, her fingers tightly wrapping around her weapons sturdy framework, “I take the fact that they have battleships to mean they’ve got a lot more firepower than we do.” Whilst the green colour to the field they stand within becomes more prominent as the morning sun finds its place in the sky, the group keep their eyes toward the fleet of ships, each lowering their anchors one at a time, following the lead of those around them.

“Hey, Katie?” Max wonders aloud, continuing to wait for the life that remains aboard the vessels to present itself innocently, his arms crossed just as the young woman’s are, “did your camp in New York have those boats?”

Her right teeth pressing into the soft, pink flesh of her bottom lip, Katie shakes her head silently for a moment. “We had speed boats for patrol- never these” the young woman answers, the slight breeze that moves over the island’s fertile lands whipping through the loose strands of hair that fall from her ponytail, “if we didn’t have these things, I’d be pretty worryful of the people that do.”

“But they’re anchoring! Doesn’t that mean they’re getting off the boats?” Aude soon queries, the question prompting their survivalist guidance to turn her head. “Why do you think I’m carrying my rifle?” Katie answers back, a smug frown worn over her face briefly before her eyes carry back to the stationary flotilla.

His feet beginning to hurt from the hours of standing in anticipation, Max musters the energy to let off an open-ended quip, peering toward Katie through the corner of his eyes, “maybe it’s your trust issues?”

Eyelids nearing closer to each other, the rifle-wielding conqueror turns her focus in the man’s direction, able to read between the lines of his comment. “And what trust issues do tho-” Katie begins countering, only stopping herself when the ship’s present their first sign of life since their display of peace, the watertight doors to their cruisers peering open to reveal the crew that operates them.

In a single-file line, an assortment of individuals emerge from the ship’s depths, their casual attire in no way matching the illustrations the island’s residents had conjured in their minds. Presenting themselves as unarmed, the onboard crew line beside each other, their eyes facing the island’s coastline and falling upon the ever-increasing number of residents that pile together, staring toward the foreign corps.

“Are we in danger?” Aude ponders aloud, a question that Katie seemingly gestures at as her rifle further readies, able to take toward the ships in a moment’s notice. “Only until they give us a reason to think we aren’t” the young woman ripostes, finger caressing the trigger guard as the centre-most ship presents Orleans Island with its yearned-for explanation.

Through the watertight doors, a black man of average height steps upon the promenade deck, the last member of the surrounding fleet to join the fray, a megaphone carried in one hand as the other wraps around a nearby bannister.

Clicking his tongue, the man pulls the megaphone to his parted lips, eyes gazing from one end of the collection to the other, not a shred of self-doubt contained within him. “I’m gonna take it that you’re the people putting those signs up around Quebec City” the man declares, sucking on his tongue as the crowd remains quiet, “Est-ce que l'un d'entre vous sait parler anglais ?”

Her eyes narrowing, Katie further readies her firearm as the crowd that surrounds her hoist their hands toward the air, all individually retaining some amount of firepower, though hesitant to use it. “That’s a good number. I’m Gamble” the man introduces himself, finally approaching the reason behind his presence, “can any of you point me in the direction of your leader?”

Without speaking as much as a singular word, the crowd’s faces redirect to the man already near the forefront of the compiled residents, his posture stoic and assertive. “I’m guessing- by the signage you’ve put up- that I’m supposed to be welcomed here, right?” Gamble questions, barely able to see Astor nod in response to his inquiry, a sight that affords him a small amount of trust in the man’s promises, “good. I think the two of us should have a chat, if you wouldn’t mind?”

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“Salem!” Emilio calls out, the woman an entire suburban street’s-length away from him, “mind taking care of this!?” Having her enjoyment in the luxury they’ve been afforded with, Salem takes notice of the corpse that stumbles through a nearby set of trees, a smirk coming over her as her face lowers to the scope of her rifle.

With a short exhale, the woman’s finger pulls the trigger in moments, the bullet that leaves her weapon splitting through the corpse’s skull within seconds. “The girl’s still got it!” Lauren proclaims, following the stone pathway that leads to the nearest front door, the rest of her group wandering on toward the next residency.

“I don’t think Salem’s very capable of ‘losing it’ to begin with” Heather responds, following closely behind Amy as Jess resides near the group’s front. “Yeah, I hope that’s true” the sniper sighs, returning the weapon to her back as she follows Angela’s lead, “the last thing I need is rust.”

“Driver on Sleepy Hollow! I repeat, there’s a driver on Sleepy Hollow!” a frantic voice calls out, ripping through the radios that sit upon the hips of those in the group, desperately trying to make contact. The communication they’ve been given incapable of reaching further than a few hundred metres, Emilio’s eyes take to his road’s end, the signage that occupies the corner reading the street name he’d anticipated.

“Everyone, get cover!” Emilio commands, watching Heather and Jess guide Amy toward a short stone wall whilst Salem and Angela settle into a spot behind some trees, his position the only one open to vulnerability. Roaring in the distance, Emilio watches a vehicle speed down the street they’d spent the last few minutes walking, its tires screeching along the ground as its motor revs.

“Em’, get the fuck down!” Lauren exclaims, stepping through the front door she’d just entered through to find the road cleared aside from the man at their forefront, his firearm readied. Pressing his eyes together, Emilio focuses on the windshield as his finger rests on the trigger, the barrel of his weapon slowly redirecting with the vehicle’s motion.

Pulling the trigger once, Emilio’s first shot misses, barely grazing the car’s hood as it draws nearer, the distance between the man and the multi-ton minivan rapidly growing shorter. With a second attempt, Emilio fails to deal a fatal blow, his bullet piercing the glass viewfinder and impaling the driver’s shoulder.

Biting his bottom lip, Emilio readies his third shot, the vehicle continuing to speed in his direction as their short game of ‘cat and mouse’ threatens to end horrifically. With a loud shriek, the third bullet slices through the windshield and spills blood, its brass casing ripping through the driver’s side window as it tears through the motorist’s head, killing him.

Control of the wheel lost, the automobile veers off course and overturns itself, spinning violently as it thrashes along the asphalt, ripping through the small woodland area before coming to a rest in the flora-infested path of land. Pulling his dominant hand away from the road, Emilio looks at his firearm suspiciously, eyes pressing closely together as a police vehicle pulls up, easily able to spot the debris-covered path the vehicle had left behind in its journey to the crash site.

The right side of his body facing the road ahead, Emilio’s weapon lowers as a pair of officers exit their cruiser, hurrying to the wreckage site. “Nice shot!” one of the men exclaims, patting Emilio on the shoulder as they race past him, confusing the man further. “That-” Emilio begins to mutter beneath his breath, his head peering to the side as his eyes return to their normal, resting state, “-that wasn’t my shot.”

“Holy shit, kid! Nice shot!” Salem exclaims, emerging from cover as Angela follows, her eyes taking to the opposite side of the road, the site where Emilio’s attention soon lingers as well. Sharing in Emilio’s surprise, Jess’s shadow-covered face looks to her own daughter with surprise, the smoking gun being credited with the day’s save held within Amy’s hands, her finger gently pulling itself away from the trigger.

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“Thank you for your hospitality” Nessie remarks, speaking softly to the frail woman as she pulls away, leaving the foursome with a tray of tea. “You’re welcome, dear” the elderly woman responds, slowly retreating with her dominant hand on a portable oxygen tank, supporting herself as she steps away.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” Franklin inquires, watching the woman lower herself into a stairlift as she prepares to ascend to the level above. “Do you have the cure for cancer, by any chance?” the woman wonders, her exhausted exterior no match for the humoured expression she wills upon her face.

Lips pressing together, the friendly face Franklin offered his assistance with falls into a sympathetic apology, his head beginning to hang. “I don’t, unfortunately” the large, one-armed man responds, visibly disheartened in the woman’s reply. “Don’t be sorry” the frail woman replies, guiding her chair toward the higher level, “if we smile and laugh at the bad stuff, why go through it at all?”

The question undoubtedly morbid and bleak, the woman’s inquiry nonetheless makes sense, leaving the group with something to wonder over. “Celia Good” Jack whispers, reading the name off a piece of mail before extending the envelope in Franklin’s direction. “Alright?” Franklin ripostes, accepting the letter that’s been turned over to his possession, “why are you telling me this?”

His shoulders shrugging, Jack lowers his ankle from the pillow he’d placed it atop, his feigned injuries no longer anything more than a few bruises, scrapes, cuts and some soreness. “I don’t know” Jack answers, lifting a cup of tea from the platter as he makes his way for the empty kitchen, turning out the lights that illuminate the home’s interior, “she’s being kind to us- we might as well refer to her by name.”

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His formal attire slightly frazzled, Emilio walks down the elegant parkway with his black tie undone and sleeves uncuffed. “What’s going on?” Emilio wonders aloud, watching Archie approach him with his face held toward the ground, an odd haste to his walk. “Get inside quickly, please” the man replies, giving Emilio a light push in the direction of ‘18 Rawson, the home’s door left propped open.

Glancing back, Emilio watches Archie walk off to greet the next visitor for the evening with the same hurriedness, offering just as much information to the second person as what was given to him. Though confused, Emilio buys into the declaration that he was met with, quickening his walk through the McKee’s residence and marching toward his first inclination.

“What’s going on?” Emilio wonders aloud, finding Jade stood in the centre of his group, a glass of vodka on the rocks held in her hand, “why did you call off the speech?”

“Because there are more pressing matters to deal with” a woman responds from the gathered populous’ side, her identity unfamiliar to the man she speaks with. “Who’s this?” Emilio responds, returning his attention to Cumberland’s leader as his index finger points in the guest’s direction.

Her hand extended, the woman introduces herself, a bottle of beer carried in her own non-dominant hand, “I’m Courtney, I work for Nova Scotia.” Accepting the handshake, Emilio again looks to Jade before directing his next question to the woman his hand discovers the warmth of. “Hello ‘Courtney from Nova Scotia’” the man replies, still yet to be met with anything other than the conversation’s swiftness, “why am I talking to you?”

“Because we have a problem” Jade answers, her voice a few octaves lower than it usually is, “-a big problem.”

“It’s not a big problem, they’re not with Rockford!” Salem interjects, again adding detail to a conversation Emilio has yet to be given the full face of. “Stop! For fuck’s sake, what’s going on!?” Emilio barks, his hands held outward at each side, refusing to let another voice speak without any further information being offered.

“The rest of our group is already here” Angela answers, silencing the roar of different stances as she claims possession of the conversation’s unravelling. “Jack and Franklin, Clint and Nessie- they’re already in Cumberland” Angela reiterates, watching Emilio’s astonished expression fade into something gradually horrified as she fuels the fire that had been threatening to build, “-they were with Rockford.”

“No- they were in Rockford!” Salem doubles down, Emilio’s face now turning in her direction, “-like I said, I gave them the map from your glove compartment, and I told them to find a place far enough away from wherever I guessed your camp would be.”

“I’m telling you, Salem- they’re with Rockford” Courtney swiftly responds, setting her drink on a small glass coffee table, “they sat at the table with Rocky. They negotiated for the fair split with Rocky, they suggested the port sanctions with Rocky. They’re not just with Rockford, they’re in Rockford’s inner circle.”

“Everyone, shut the fuck up!” Emilio howls again, his eyes turning away from all voices aside from one, his full trust stored within the vows they put forward. “Salem, explain to me what’s going on” Emilio requests, his hand extended toward Courtney the moment she tries to interject, halting the woman’s remarks before they have the chance to present themselves.

“When we left them in Providence, I snuck a map out of their glove compartment” Salem recalls, tugging at the rifle strap that runs across her chest, “I dropped it out of the window for them to pick up. It was right after you brained that corpse on the way out.”

“Can we please stop living in-” Courtney begins to wonder aloud, drawing Emilio’s ire further than he’s willing to allow her. Unsheathing his blade, Emilio rests the tip of his sharpened weapon against Courtney’s throat, halting her from speaking any further. “I’ve killed people in a fit of rage before, so I’ll ask this only once-” the man warns, looking Courtney in the eyes as his declaration is uttered, “do not speak another word until I tell you.”

Their eyes colliding, Emilio watches the surrender in Courtney’s face appear as his blade lowers, his eyes taken back to the woman he trusts most of all. “I hashed out a plan with Jack while you guys dug into that buck. There were three or four places around Providence you could have taken us, so I told him to the closest places beyond those” Salem concludes, looking Emilio in the eyes as she finishes, “he was gonna get their ticket through there and meet us in Nova Scotia.”

His eyes lowering, Emilio lets the information sit with him as Salem’s attention retreats toward Courtney. “Whatever they’ve done for Rockford, I promise you-” Salem proceeds, doubling down on her claim with added emphasis, “-I promise you, they only did it to get themselves to Nova Scotia.”

“Who are you to me other than the group I tried to lead away from Sun City?” Courtney inquires, her question directed toward Salem, despite being open for the rest of the group to answer. “We’re the group that Jade’s trusted to keep Cumberland operating” Emilio swiftly responds, his eyes retaken toward Courtney before falling upon the settlement’s leader, “you don’t have to trust us anymore than you can throw us, but Jade knows that we’re worth our word.”

Having anticipated being the discourse’s natural endpoint, Jade downs the rest of her drink before setting her glass aside, watching Courtney and Salem’s eyes take toward her direction just as Emilio's does. “If they’re out there, the least we can do is give them enough benefit of the doubt to ask them for their side of the story” Salem proclaims, standing beside Emilio’s remarks just as he had done for her, “you know damn well Franklin and Jack wouldn’t do anything to harm Alicia and Lauren.”

Her lips pressing together, Jade looks to the group’s leadership figures, watching Salem and Emilio stand side-by-side whilst Courtney stands alone to their side, her own point fair and reasonable. “If we’re taking the intruders alive, we can at least make sense of giving their guys an interrogation” Jade reasons, unofficially placing herself in the corner of her closest confidants as she looks to Courtney, Nova Scotia’s representative shrugging out of a place of acceptance.

“And what’s your plan if they turn out to be on Rockford’s side?” Courtney inquires, her dislike for the foursome not rooted in who they are as people, but what they’ve done to one of Nova Scotia’s greatest assets. “They won’t be- we don’t even need to consider what would happen otherwise” Emilio replies, looking Courtney in the eyes once more, remaining confident in his promises, “consider this to be the way I prove that you can trust me.”

Extending his hand much like Courtney had, Emilio waits for the woman’s response, her eyes wandering throughout the patio. Her lips puckering ever-so-slightly, Courtney considers the man’s offer, waiting for the slightest appearance of deception through the man’s demeanour. “Don’t make me regret this” Courtney warns, tucking her dominant hand into Emilio’s in a symbolic gesture of peace, their eyes connecting once more as their deal is written in honour.

== Rise ==