S6, E5 | Follow the Tracks

“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 ==