S6, E6 | Jade's Mercy

“They’re still following!” Nessie exclaims, her left hand pressed against the wound on Jack’s shoulder as her right propels him forward, pressing into his lower back. “You didn’t expect them to let off, did you!?” Franklin calls back, wrapping his arms around his head as bullets are fired off once more.

Their destination as unclear as the distance they have yet to travel, the embattled survivors begin to struggle beneath the weight of exhaustion, its crippling grasp daring them to step past their breaking point. Watching Clint stray further ahead, Franklin fights to maintain the pace he’s taken on, his face glistening with sweat as his lungs exhale deep puffs of air, fatigue beginning to settle in.

Lowering his chin, Franklin stares toward the ground as further gunfire screams through the dark sky, his eyes nearly pressing shut as each new step pulls a groan from him. Barely able to notice the soundtrack of war that surrounds him, Franklin’s motivations fight weariness for supremacy as his mind sets itself on autopilot, focusing not on his terminus, but those his attempts to escape are taken for.

“Stop!” Clint exclaims, throwing his arms toward the group in his wake, his hands forcefully shoving Franklin back as their paths meet once more, the larger man’s frame incapable of slowing down without assistance. “Why!?” Nessie barks, she and Jack sharing the struggle those ahead have as they begin to lessen their hurry, their breaths growing harder to come by.

Visibly frazzled and shaken, Clint’s eyes veer toward whatever he can make out, his vision obstructed by the shade of night. “In here! Now!” the man soon growls, pulling away from the group’s forefront in favour of what rests closeby, its steel exterior providing himself and those he considers close with a desperately-needed commodity- shelter.

“What are you doing!?” Nessie hisses, barely able to form words through her craved attempts at regaining her breath. “Stop questioning me! Get in!” Clint swiftly quips, pushing the door to a train car inward, providing the group with an immediate reprieve from the grave perils they face. “Nessie-” Jack grunts, still relying on the woman’s support to keep himself standing, his free hand pointing its index finger in the direction they’d travelled toward, “-he’s right.”

The track remaining straight ahead for what seems like kilometres, a pair of headlights pierce through the dim night, effectively cutting the group off from advancing forward or retreating entirely. “Shit- alright, come on!” Nessie responds, assisting Franklin in aiding Jack to the train’s caboose before climbing aboard themselves, making sure to lock the door on their way in.

Dropping to her knees, Nessie slinks into the corner as she attempts to capture her bearings, loose strands of hair sticking to the sweat on her face just the same as the rest of her group’s. “Stay quiet” Jack whispers, pulling himself into a seat near the cabin’s entrance, each breath forcing him to wince in pain, “-give ‘em a second to pass.”

The back of his head pressing against a wall, Franklin’s eyes pull away from his group in favour of what sits near, a curious look appearing over his face as the room’s orange glow is taken notice of. “Psst” the man whistles across the cramped corridor, directing Clint’s attention toward the rest of the caboose’s interior, a single lantern left sat atop a counter closeby, its glass surrounding an already-lit flame.

Its walls lined with the same glossy, hardwood finish as its ceiling and floor does, the caboose sits in beautiful condition, void of dust and debris whilst presenting a homely feeling. Just beyond the small group, a set of chairs sit in the centre of the room near to a vintage desktop, which rests near the end of a small couch long enough to serve as a bed if needed.

The further the caboose trails on, the more it has to present. Lights that no longer work adorn the walls, curtains cover the windows whose blinds already seal the outside world from getting a peak at what resides within. As the caboose nears the back, a further set of chairs sit near a compact, but sturdy fireplace- the steel shell that covers it proving to be just as good of a stovetop as any.

“Don’t make a sound” Salem whispers, huddled in the corner with the right side of her body pressing against Alicia, her finger on the trigger to the rifle she presses against her forehead. “We’re outnumbered” Alicia ripostes, her voice nearly too quiet for even the woman beside her to hear.

“Even if you were fighting with me- that wouldn’t change” Salem replies, furrowing her eyebrows as she looks Alicia in the eyes, attention redirected toward the first few footsteps she can gather since their train car’s intrusion. Quietly adjusting herself, Salem keeps crouched behind a set of half-walls, their presence only ever intended to serve an aesthetic purpose until this moment.

On one knee, Salem keeps her chin toward the ground as she waits for an opportunity, readied to fire if she feels the need. Stepping closer, the heavy set of footsteps cease, replaced by what the long-range shooter knows to be the movement of her lantern, immediately revealing her target’s location.

“Don’t move!” Salem commands, standing out from cover with her eye already pressed against the scope, her dominant hand’s finger prepared to exchange gunfire. Panic and exhaustion mixing together, the group collectively turns to the cabin’s end, their hands raising in an unprompted display of surrender- too tired to fight any longer than they already have.

Setting the lantern down, Franklin reciprocates his group’s gesture, both hands held toward the air as his fingers part, his eyes yet to fall upon the person that holds them at gunpoint from the room over.

Her eyes widening, Salem’s head pulls away from her rifle, its barrel still aimed as her motor functions struggle to catch up with her brain. “Wh-” Salem murmurs, slowly lowering her weapon from the group’s direction as Alicia takes notice, watching from behind cover as Salem’s guard lowers.

“You’re alive?” Salem softly speaks aloud, her bottom lip quivering as her weapon falls the rest of the way to her side, “you’re- you’re alive.”

Squinting in the woman’s direction, Alicia watches Salem lower the rifle to her side with confusion, puzzled at the presence that provides her friend with such comfort. As her head pulls back, Salem’s eyes lower toward the pregnant stowaway with a half-smile, incapable of presenting emotion clearly in the moment.

“Yeah-” the large man at the foursome’s forefront replies, his deep voice not only familiar to Alicia’s ear, but longed-for, “we’re alive.”

Her eyelids having widely parted, Alicia pushes herself off the ground, her knees leaving the hardwood floors as she ascends to her feet. Speechless, Salem steps aside, clearing the centre aisle for her friends to reconnect, the pair’s embrace casting a shadow against the back wall as Salem passes, reuniting with Jack and the siblings as the distant sounds of muffled voices remain beyond the caboose’s quarters.

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

With her rifle in tow, Katie stares down the ominous vessel that rests within the calm waters of the St. Lawrence, its anchor sunken into the water’s depths as its gangway rests against Orleans Island’s solid ground. One foot placed in front of the other, the young woman ascends the ship’s side, able to notice the armed man that waits at the staircase’s summit for her presence, his unamused expression following her as she draws nearer, inching closer to his ship.

“Katie Dawson?” the man inquires, his question answered only with an unamused grunt equal to his own facial visage, “sorry- no unauthorised weapons allowed onboard.” Her forward progression halted at the boat’s entrance, Katie scowls in the man’s direction, momentarily redirecting her gaze toward the loaded weapon she gently cradles, her desire to continue onward quickly depleting.

“Maybe I don’t feel comfortable trusting people that park war boats just outside of my house” Katie ripostes, her tone immediately taking on a reluctant inflection. “I don’t see how that’s my problem” the stationed guard replies, unfazed by the woman’s claims, but even further unperturbed by her lack of cooperation.

“Because I was asked here by Mr. Megaphone- whoever that black guy was from the other day” Katie retorts, her left foot coming to a rest a slight distance further outward than her right, “you look like a toothpick with hair- so I doubt you’re more important than he is. Since that’s the case- I doubt he’d be happy knowing you kept us from talking because of this petty nonsense.”

“I’m following protocols, girl” the man swiftly replies, directing the downward-facing barrel of his weapon toward a distant corner of the vessel’s entrance platform, “if he’s got a problem with me following orders- so be it. With that said, leave the gun by the door or just leave in general.”

Her tongue pressing into the corner of her mouth, Katie’s eyelids near closer to each other as she stands silently for a moment, a brief glance shared toward the corridor she anticipates entering through. Nostrils flaring, the young woman surrenders to the cruiser’s regulations and relinquishes her long-range firearm, gently resting it upon the tiny platform before stepping through the opened water-tight door.

With a side-eye, Katie ducks her head as she steps into the ship, the guard she walks past offering a few words of encouragement. “At the end of the corridor, turn right and Gamble’s office will be the third door on the left” the man remarks, unabashedly presenting the young woman with a sarcastic grin, “-enjoy your stay aboard the S.S Go Fuck Yourself.”

Briefly pausing, Katie’s face takes toward her shoulder, allowing her eyes to fall upon the foul-mouthed, grey suit-wearing guard as she returns the half-assed remark. “Try not to fall overboard carrying that massive head of yours, jackass” the acquainted survivor responds, resetting her sights toward the long, narrow passageway that resides before her, its space small enough to be fully-illuminated by the small, unimpressive bulbs that sit within reinforced shields.

Undaunted by the ringing of pipes that line walls in her every direction, Katie’s eyes keep to the hallway’s end, briefly glancing down each new branch the sector presents to her, its corridors equally cramped as the one she ventures through.

“Welcome” Gamble remarks, watching his visitor’s head peer around the frame of his office door, a pair of glasses sitting halfway down the bridge of his nose as he silently reads the notes off a piece of paper. “I certainly don’t feel like it” Katie replies, watching Gamble’s silent stare approach her face, waiting for emphasis to be added within her remark, “welcomed- I don’t feel like it.”

“Ah, well that’s not my problem” Gamble quickly ripostes, taking a final look into his notepad as he ascends from the chair he’d occupied for most of the day, attention soon redirected toward his guest. “Astor says you’re his go to- the person he calls when he needs a pair of hands to get dirty for him” the man continues, stepping around his desk before taking a seat upon its front, his hands placed against the hardwood to each side.

“Is that what he said?” Katie curiously replies, crossing her arms as her head tilts toward one shoulder. “It’s what he implied- yes” Gamble quickly remarks, matching the woman’s posture by folding his arms against his chest, one eyebrow raised higher than the other, “and from what he’s mentioned, you seem to be the most-adapt person in his camp. Just how many years did you spend on the outside? Three? Four? You’ve practically seen every step of the world’s decay.”

“I fail to see how any of that is your business” Katie eagerly interjects, not taking kindly to the cold, disproportionate amount of control the vessel’s leading figure has seemingly attempted to claim. “Believe it or not- everything about Orleans Island is my business” Gamble corrects, flashing a smile in the corner of his mouth as the shoulder of his suit jacket lightly grazes the side of his face, “if you’re who gets the dirty work done- that’s my business.”

“In that case, maybe I should ask a better question” Katie retorts, her right knee bending outward as her arm-cross deepens, “why should I give a shit?”

The qualm earning a light chuckle from him, Gamble’s chin lowers for a moment, only returning as his eyes reconnect with the young woman ahead. “Because it’s better to have some people as allies than others” Gamble answers, lowering his arms slightly as his grin dissipates, his naturally commanding expression returning, “I’m one of the people you’d rather not have in the opposite corner.”

“I’ve seen plenty of people in this world- probably more than I’d like to admit- with a better claim to that than you” Katie retorts, unafraid of the man’s intimidating posture, taking it more as a presentation than an honest depiction of who sits before her.

“I doubt that” Gamble remarks, his voice inherently deep and smooth, his stare never once leaving Katie from this moment onward, “but I don’t doubt why you’d think that.” Unfurling his arms, the well-dressed man lowers himself from the desk’s edge, matching Katie’s stance as the woman’s eyes become level with the centre of his chest.

Not flinching, Katie uncrosses her arms and closes the distance between herself and the dictatorial figure, her dominant hand presenting just the tip of her index finger forward. “Then tell me why I should think any differently” the woman challenges, pressing her single digit into the man’s sternum and pushing him backward, literally poking him in search of his weak spot, “more importantly- tell me why I should give a fu-”

Allowing the first subtle jab, Gamble’s left hand wraps around the woman’s wrist the moment her finger skims his body for a second time. “Ahh!” the young woman groans, leaning to the side as her arm is turned to the right, guided at Gamble’s will as she falls to a knee, her limb remaining in the man’s possession.

“Is this a good start?” Gamble inquires, his voice not raising any further than the calm, collected tone he’d initially begun speaking to the young woman with, a gesture that only strengthens his point. “Not at all!” Katie grunts, pulling in a deep breath as she unsheathes a blade from within her belt loop, her left hand swiping through the air as she slices into the flesh of the man’s arm, prompting his aggression’s ceasing.

“Argh, you BITCH!” Gamble howls, stumbling backward as his right hand tightly grasps the wound on his left arm, watching Katie confidently return to her feet with the knife in tow. “To answer your question from before- about how long I’d been out there?” Katie remarks, earning Gamble’s attention as she addresses the earlier concern from their conversation, “-long enough to know when people have really bad security measures.”

Grimacing, Gamble groans toward the young lady, who returns the knife to her side and slowly makes for the cabin’s exit, confident in her declaration. “If you ever lay a hand on me again- I’ll fucking kill you” Katie warns, stepping through the room’s exit as Gamble watches on, applying pressure to his wound as the young woman departs, yet to be sure of what kind of impression he’s taken from their confrontation.

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“Where is he!?” Lauren howls as she storms through the front doors of a small station redesigned to house a small police force, her group following closely behind as Emilio leads the charge onward. “Lauren!” a voice all-to familiar to the woman cries out, rounding the corner with an eager expression, his eyes immediately falling upon his love the moment she steps into view.

Without another word, Lauren bursts past the small obstructions in her path and leaps into Jack’s arms, her face pressing into the small of the man’s neck as he snatches her out of the air. Not holding back his emotions, Jack’s smile overcomes his face, overwhelmed with joy as he drops to a knee, his forehead resting against the side of the woman’s face.

“That’s beautiful” Franklin murmurs from afar, catching Emilio’s attention at the immediate sound of his voice. “You made it you goddamn son of a bitch!” Emilio humorously proclaims, stepping around the rejoined couple with his arms held outward. “It’s nice to see you again, governor!” Franklin enthusiastically erupts, high-fiving his long-time friend before embracing the man with glee, his lone-remaining hand patting the once-running mate on the back.

“And same to you, lieutenant governor” Emilio jokes, pulling his head away to look the man in the eyes, one part of a larger reunion he’d never truly anticipated seeing. Sharing the reintroduction, Clint and Nessie stroll around the corner, reacquainting themselves with those they’d once been separated from, overcome with appreciation for the opportunity to reconvene.

“As much as I hate to interrupt this- duty calls” a voice familiar to all calls aloud, capturing the group’s undivided attention with just the sound of her voice. Her brothers flanking each of her sides, Jade walks into the station’s foyer with purpose, one foot stepping ahead of the other with sights set on the destination ahead. “I still have a lunatic walking my streets and I’d like to put a stop to that” the woman remarks, hands tucked into the pockets of her tight, black jeans.

“I know the four of you were part of Rocky’s inner circle. And even though I’m prepared to look past all of that, there’s no denying that he doesn’t put Cumberland under siege if not for you all spitting nonsense into his ear” the woman continues, putting an end to the chipper assembly her department hosts, “so- if I’m willing to scratch your backs and turn a blind eye to your crimes- I expect something in return.”

“We’re not gonna deny you that” Franklin swiftly interrupts, a gesture reciprocated as Jack ascends from one knee, allowing Lauren’s feet to reconnect with solid ground. Letting free a sigh from the deepest caverns of her lungs, Jade’s eyes take to the siblings before colliding with the reconnected couples, a subdued look of joy appearing through her stern visage as she peers toward Alicia’s small baby bump.

“I know” the woman exhales, lessening the stubborn and hardened stance she’d assumed upon her arrival, chin lowering as she composes herself from the hurried drive she’d entered with. “If Rocky’s still out there, just tell us what we need to do” Jack speaks out, his arm kept tightly wrapped around his wife’s waist as he presents his hand toward Cumberland’s general, “I gave a finger to get into Rocky’s good graces. If it takes a whole hand to get into yours- so be it- just say the word.”

Extending her hand toward the man, Jade shakes her head in refusal, lightening the tone in her voice as she reclaims the discussion’s lead, trying to voice her concerns with an empathetic undertone.

“I’d prefer you keep your hand and help me take that bastard's head instead, how does that sound?” the woman counteroffers, her remarks bringing an enthused look upon the group’s countenance. “That sounds like a fucking deal” Franklin swiftly replies, offering the same answer the rest of his small subgroup would have given themselves, accepting on the group’s behalf as their path toward absolution becomes clear.

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“She just went down for bed, but I can wake her if you need” Heather softly speaks, twirling the cord to the phone’s handset as her conversation nears its natural conclusion. “I think it’s time the girl has her question answered” Emilio responds, pressing his elbow into the police station’s concrete wall as he whispers into the handset’s receiver, “it’s time she knows why we’re the good guys.”

Her head nodding, Heather releases her finger’s grasp of the twisted cord as Jessica descends the home’s main staircase, barely catching a glimpse of the home’s owner out of her eye’s corner. “I know” Heather replies, building the courage within herself to accept the course of action that she’s called to, “have her send a car- we’ll be ready.”

As a few seconds pass, the call ends, prompting the woman to return the phone to its receiver as an unanticipated voice collects her curiosity. “Who was that?” Jess questions aloud, resting her elbow on the bannister as Heather spins in her direction, slightly flustered by her unexpected attendance.

“Uh, it’s- it was Emilio” Heather stammers, beginning to approach Amy’s mother on her way toward the above-level’s bedrooms, “they found the others. We’re needed at Jade’s place.” With her mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, Jess nods her head and allows Heather to pass, staring toward the open window at the living room’s back-most wall before speaking her silent thoughts aloud.

“Are you bringing Amy?” the woman at the steps’ bottom asks aloud, turning to look at her child’s caregiver with a partially-empty expression. “Y- yeah, why?” Heather ripostes, coming to a stop near the staircase’s peak, practically able to watch the gears turn inside Jess’ head. “No- no reason” Jess answers, subtly shaking her head as Heather begins to nod, “I was just wondering.”

Without a verbal riposte, Heather nods in the woman’s direction, watching Jess’ eyes drift toward the distance of the home’s interior before another thought dawns upon her. “You know how important Amy is to me, right?” Jess unanticipatedly queries, harbouring a visibly hopeful visage as Heather begins to nod. “She’s your daughter- of course I do” Heather answers, her hand coming to a rest upon her hip as she opens the floodgates to their impending discourse, “why?”

Lowering her head, Jess stares at the patterns of the staircase’s carpeting, forming her replies off the cuff. “I just wanted to know that you knew- that you understood how much I cared about my daughter” the woman answers, lowering her voice to hide any hint of emotion that she worries could break through to the surface, “I wanted to make sure you knew that- even if I haven’t always showed it- I love my daughter more than anything else in this world.”

Confused, Heather attempts to seek common ground with the woman below her, aware of the tragedies the woman has faced and not wanting to be insensitive to them. “Parents fuck up sometimes. Even if you make a bad choice- or make the wrong call somewhere along the line- you always have the best intentions for your kids” Heather answers, bringing out a small, barely noticeable glimmer of hope in the woman’s demeanour, “of course I know how much you love Amy.”

“Then you know why I’m so worried, right?” Jess quickly asks aloud, the softened muscles in her face presenting Heather with the appearance of a woman desperate for the extension of an olive branch. “I don’t always have to love it- but you’ve been a great influence on Amy. I’m glad she’s had you, but I’m so worried that she doesn’t just see you as that” the concerned parent remarks, climbing one step higher on the staircase, “I’m scared she sees you more as my replacement.”

Her head shaking, Heather remains where she’d stopped, three individual steps away from the home’s second level. “You’re her mother, Jess- I can’t replace you” the woman responds, her claim immediately argued against by the child’s mother, Jess’ feet climbing to the next step. “That’s not necessarily true” the woman replies, sliding her hand along the wooden railing as she journeys to the next highest step, “all I have left in this world is my daughter- and I can’t lose that bond.”

“Jess, you’re not going to!” Heather assuredly responds with conviction, her refusal to believe such a claim thwarted once more. “Heather, I asked her the other day if she loved me, and do you know how she responded?” Jess swiftly asks aloud, ascending one place higher as she comes within five steps of her daughter’s keeper, “she said- ‘I have to- you’re my mom!’- like her love for me wasn’t something that I earned- but was something I was entitled to.”

“She’s a kid living in a world filled with chaos, you can’t expect her to fully understand the concept of love!” Heather argues back, the distance between both parties now shortened to four steps. “She doesn’t need to understand love in order to show her true feelings” Jess argues back, another step taken forward to shorten the gap to three stairs, “she looks at you as someone she trusts. Someone she looks up to and can count on. And me? I’m just the person she belongs to!”

“What are you trying to say Jess?” Heather inquires, resting her open palm against the bannister as the woman ahead of her climbs yet another step, their faces inching closer as the seconds pass. “I’m saying that- while I appreciate everything you’ve done for her- you’re driving a wedge between Amy and I” Jess declares, finally reaching the lone stair between herself and Heather, “I want to know that- when the time comes- you’ll keep from getting between Amy and I any further.”

The woman’s conclusion prompting her eyebrows to furrow, Heather’s head pulls back, the thoughts that spring to her mind kept subdued as she looks into Jess’ expectant expression. Trying to collect her thoughts, Heather shakes her head and climbs the remaining steps to the top, preparing to make for Amy’s room before the response she’d anxiously attempted to concoct makes its way to the tip of her tongue.

“I’m not going to keep you from Amy, Jess- but I’m not going to make that decision for her” Heather replies, the anticipative expression the young girl’s mother had worn gradually subsiding to a more natural, unemotional visage, “if she decides that she wants you to care for her- that’s fine and I’ll respect that. But if she decides she’d rather keep the status quo going- I’ll expect you to respect that just the same.”

Her bottom lip lowered a slight amount from her top, Jess looks to Heather with a somewhat surprised look before grunting to clear her throat, silently nodding in the woman’s direction to respond. Left with an uneasy feeling, Heather relieves herself of the weight she’d felt cradling her chest before rounding the corner, clearing herself from Jess’ view in favour of tending to the mid-slumber youth.

Her blank face beginning to gradually descend into a dissatisfied scowl, Jess redirects herself toward ground level, allowing Heather’s answer to settle as her mind forms its own conclusions.

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“Hurry the fuck up, dipshit!” an aggravated man remarks, his dirty hands tossing a handheld radio across the room to a man of equally filthy standards. Without a rebuttal, the ordered man charges through the living room and past a small couch near the room’s back, its cushions occupied by a frail elderly couple with their hands bound by rope and mouths covered with duct tape.

Through the front door, the grease-stained man hurries toward the quiet neighbourhood’s road with the radio set in his hand, a gleeful and chipper look held upon his face. “Boss! Boss!” the man exclaims, climbing the stepladder of a big rig’s cabin with his hand extended toward the open window, “they’re calling for us!”

Pressing his eyes closely together, Rocky looks to the speaker with intrigue as he discards his lit cigarette through the door’s opening, freeing his hand to claim the handset. “You will cooperate” Jack’s voice speaks, carried through the airways with a declarative tone, “this settlement no longer belongs to you- and it does not belong to Nova Scotia- you now belong to us.”

Switching hands, the transmitter finds the refuge of Franklin’s palm, where it’s carried across the room once more. “Once again, we’ll repeat ourselves slowly” the larger man remarks, keeping his finger upon the speaker’s button as he holds the receiver toward one pair of lips in particular. “Cumberland’s leadership has fallen” a disgruntled and groggy Archie remarks, his voice weak and frail, “she surrenders to her intruders.”

A grin appearing from behind his lips, Rocky turns the keys in his ignition and waves his hand toward the quiet home at the end of the nondescript road he parks upon. “If you are what remains of Rockford, we ask you to follow the signal flare” Jack announces, pulling the trigger to brighten the sky with a brilliant orange glow, his call to arms presented to what remains of Cumberland’s society, “join us for this monumental rebirth. Join us for a dawn where we take what’s ours.”

Putting his foot to the pedal at the sound of engine’s roaring, Rocky directs his eighteen wheeler toward the main road, joining his flock in firing shots into the dead of night, victory and triumph having found him at long last.

== Rise ==