S7, E10 | The Nature of War

\ Three Hours Earlier /

“Uh... Alright. I’m not- not quite sure what to say here” Salem grumbles, rubbing at her forehead as she settles into her driver’s seat, her opposite hand cradling a silver voice recorder whose tape continues to spin, seconds of valuable spool being spent amidst her pause. “I’m honestly not even sure that I can say anything that hasn’t been said before” she corrects, sitting in the shadow cast by the blue van her sedan is parked alongside, “I just keep finding myself looking at the past.”

Clicking her tongue, the woman’s head drifts to the rolled up window beside her, a passing glance taken toward the side mirror, where a pair of headlights continue running at the front of a pickup truck whose driver attempts to make a quick dip into his flat. “No matter how much I try, I can’t escape those first days” she confesses, “with all that we’ve seen and where we’ve gone- hell, where we ended up- I just keep... I keep thinking about those first few days.”

The parking lot, surrounded on three sides by large brick walls stretching four stories tall, is most vehicles’ only exposure to light comes from the burning lamp at the wall opposite the lot’s entrance. Its bulb casting a dim light over the closest few cars and trucks near it, the light centres itself between the second and third stories, its glow barely able to illuminate the window to Salem’s living room.

“It must’ve been a couple nights or weeks after I met everyone. That night where Alicia caught me trying to walk off... Before we went to Concord” she continues, one foot sitting atop the brake pad whilst the other sits square of the floormat. “I’ve seen so many of you die over the last few years. I’ve seen all the shit we’ve gotten stuck in, and that night- that night- keeps playing on my mind” the muttering proceeds, her words immortalised onto tape for any and all to hear.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know why. I guess it’s just never hit me hard enough until now just how much it would sit with me” Salem admits, staring forward with a blank glare, “I think I’m really gonna hate myself in a few years for leaving like this. Hell, I think that hate is already sort of settling in.”

Long since she’d left the sedan she’d arrived home with, Salem inevitably makes her way back into the flat she’d called home for so many months, every word that she’d had to offer already pressed onto tape. With an eye on the corner of the room, the woman comes upon a sudden thought that drives her to make it toward the corner of the room, the one in which a box of books sits to be returned to the library they’d been taken from, only for that journey to have never been taken.

“But it doesn’t matter how many years have gone by now, I’m still... still not good at saying goodbye” Salem confesses, her past self remaining in the sedan, staring at the characterless brick wall she parks at. “And even if I’m not good at it, there’s just nothing I can do to help it anymore. As much as I love you all, I think I love you too much” she proceeds, staring back at the parked truck through her rear view mirror, “and that love is too great for me to survive saying goodbye.”

Leaving the voice recorder on her empty seat, Salem’s future self begins carrying handfuls of books; the initial box being too small to support the weight of down the exterior stairs. One after another, the woman descends and re-ascends the steps, gradually bringing one set of hardcover after another to the asphalt just beside her car’s rear right tire.

“Maybe I was never alright with surrendering to life inside the walls. Maybe this is just my excuse for fucking off right as things are about to get bad” Salem’s past soul remarks, eyes continuing to remain on the truck behind her as it’s driver returns, just beginning to process of loading the bed with a variety of his belongings. “I’d be willing to accept that” the woman mutters, only to begin shaking her head in refusal, “but I can’t be here when this world gets you killed.”

In a future only minutes after the woman’s recording had ceased, her hands wrap around the sides of the cardboard box that holds what remains of the overdue books, joining her in stepping through the front door. With the faintest glance over the nearest bannister, Salem finds the man whom the truck belongs to, his repetitive entering and exiting of his apartment allows him the chance to continue filling his vehicle with all sorts of tactical and survival gear.

With an idea coming to mind, the departing survivor begins making for the first of three different staircases, inevitably holding her foot out for the top-most stair.

“I don’t remember who said it, but I remember hearing one of us say that things were still perfect as long as he didn’t have an answer... Kind of like Schroedinger’s cat, y’know?” Salem’s prior self reflects, finally sparking a sorrowed grin, “it’s almost like all of you will still be alive as long as I’m gone. Like no matter where I go, everything here- and everyone in it- will stay just the way it was when I left it so long as I never turn back.”

Nodding to herself, Salem tries to fight off a tear before feeling it get the best of her, its warm slide down from the corner of her eye prompting the hand in which the recorder is held to swipe at it. “I don’t feel like I belong in this world. The world as what Nova Scotia is was never my cup of tea. I understand that it’s the future, but it’s not mine” she confesses, the nod turning to a vehement shake, “even if I go- old and frail in my bed- that world will never come back in my lifetime.”

Toppling, rolling and spilling down the flight of stairs she’d yet to ascend, the final remaining novels that future Salem carries in the box fall from their cardboard containment, flooding through the bottom of the box too decrepit to support the contents any further. “Goddamnit!” she howls through clenched teeth, angrily discarding the frail container over the lip of the bannister, paying no mind to whatever random plot of asphalt it embarks a descent toward.

Returning to ground level, Salem annoyedly carries the books with her to the others she’d stationed beside her vehicle’s rear tire. “Books?” an unfamiliar voice calls out, prompting the woman to turn back, where her eyes find the survivalist standing beside his truck, confused at what he perceives to be her selection of valuables.

“I may not know Charlotte like the back of my hand, but I don’t need a reason to look far for the trouble she’s bringing around this place” Salem’s past remarks, confident in the words that she speaks onto tape, “I saw when she took that shot at Gamble. Her heart isn’t in this for the greater good, her heart wants one thing and that’s it... power.”

“Yeah... Books. What about it?” Salem’s future-self aggravatedly musters the will to retort, unsure whether or not the judgemental voice in her apparent neighbour’s reflection is intentional. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it” the tenant, abandoning his living space replies, beginning to walk back to his flat before the sound of the woman’s voice prevents him.

“It sure as hell sounded like you did” Salem responds, continuing to standby and wait for an answer to her question. Not wanting any more trouble than what he can sense on the horizon, the departing neighbour lowers his shoulders and extends his arms in a show of apology, “they’re just a weird thing to take when skipping town... that’s all” he confesses, turning his eyes away to face the direction of his flat once more, not wanting anything more with the discourse he hadn’t anticipated.

“The world is changing. Nova Scotia may be too big for whatever’s about to happen to not be the last, but I wouldn’t put it past the world to get ugly for fun” past-Salem proceeds, watching her neighbour carry a rifle of his own and a large box of ammunition out to the truck bed. Already having been stocked with an unmade tent, various other weapons and additional ammunition, countless prepacked meal kits and other necessities, the vehicle proves to be a survivor’s wet dream.

“That look in Charlotte’s eyes told me all that it needed to. She’s not going to stop until she takes that guy’s place back or dies in the process” Salem carries on, eyes still unwavering from their place upon the truck behind her. “She’ll be willing to throw out every last body she has just to keep this place unified, and that includes all of you” she proceeds, offering whatever warning she can to those bound to find the recording, “I can’t be there when that happens.”

Kneeling close to the ground, Salem’s future self begins to stack the books into neater, more manageable piles. With a casual stroll up the exterior steps, the woman makes her way back to the flat and nonchalantly marches through the apartment, closing in on the firepit before taking a glance through the nearby window. With a few different containers of gear in his hand, the confrontation-avoiding survivor sets down the belongings in the vehicle’s bed before starting to cover it over.

With a squint in her eye, Salem stands close to the vantage point and keeps herself hidden beside the wall, watching as the gentleman she’d never cared to ask the name of approaches her car. Passing a glance around his nearby surroundings, the man checks for onlookers to make sure he’s not being watched, a quick thrust of his foot purposefully knocking the woman’s neatly-stacked novels into each other, forcing them to fall like dominoes as he quickly hurries away to his flat.

“I’ve probably said it before, and I don’t know exactly when I started meaning it, but I know for a fact that I’m telling the truth when I say it now-” Salem’s past-self voices, watching as the survivor whose vehicle she’s fixated in walks back for his apartment, “-I fucking love you guys.” As her lip quivers, another tear runs down the side of the sorrowful woman’s face, leaving a trail behind as it runs freely, allowing passage as the effort to hide it evades her.

“I guess I should be glad I’m not good at these kinds of things... It keeps me from having to look you all in the eyes and say all of this” she proceeds, trying to muster a laugh, though all that can find its way through her sobering grin is a teeth-heavy groan of mixed emotion, “and even then, one of you would probably jump at the first opportunity you had to talk me out of this.”

With a snarl, future Salem steps away from her window and bows her head to the open fireplace, quickly extinguishing the fire not even she easily recalls being without. Confidently and with reassurance, the woman steps through her front door and leaves it open just a crack, the peek of darkness shown through the slit in its opening affording any passers by a glance into the void of nothingness that resides within.

Stepping down to ground level once more, the woman’s eyes take to the same car that she marches toward, looking past the fallen books and to the trunk that she lifts with the ease of her finger’s push. Within seconds, Salem’s hands go from empty to occupied, her left pushing the vehicle’s rear shut with a loud enough force to catch ears whilst her right brandishes the rifle she’d gone not a day of this current world without.

“I’m sure some of you will think differently. This isn’t a decision that you guys could- or even should- change” Salem’s past remarks, her free hand trying to wipe the waterworks that well from her eyes. “Emilio... You’re an awesome guy. I’ve given you shit in the past, but dude... There are times where I envy the fact that I’m not you” she confesses, allowing herself to break out a chuckle for the tape to overhear, “I can only hope you’re not still refusing yourself credit for all you’ve done.”

Clearing her throat, the woman runs her hand through the hair that falls over her shoulder, aware of her need to tie it back. “Clint and Nessie. I know I never had the history with you two or Angela that I had with everyone else, but that doesn’t change how much you’ve meant to me and everyone else too” Salem carries on, gently setting the recorder onto the centre console, “before Cumberland- and especially after everything happened post-Sun City- you’ve been right there for us... Every time.”

“Hey!” Salem’s current calls out, brandishing her rifle as she stares into the lit flat that stands across from her, catching the ear of the man whose truck she’d spent the last few minutes scouting out. “Y- yeah?” the fleeing survivor responds, turning back as he begins to step from his common space and into the living room, pausing his return to the running vehicle as he spots the firearm in the woman’s hand.

“You got any family?” Salem inquires, passing a glance at the well-loaded truck, more than aware that such a vast collection far exceeds what someone simply fleeing the city would need. “No?” the man responds, staring at the woman curiously as he answers honestly, slowly putting a duffle bag onto the tiled floor of his kitchen whilst looking onward.

“To Jack and Lauren, I wish you all the absolute best. I hope this all comes and goes without hurting enough people to call it a travesty” Salem’s past self remarks, pulling her hair back and tying it into a bun, eyes keeping toward the parked truck behind herself. “The two of you have something nice going for yourselves here. Ever since the start, I felt like the two of you needed something to live for” she confesses, turning her head to the side for leverage, “I’m glad you found each other.”

Finishing the tie, the woman reclaims her recorder and rests her free hand over the steering wheel, letting it hang there as a smile comes over her face again. “Fuck. This is the hardest part” Salem admits aloud, staring at the ceiling for a moment to collect herself before a chance to continue can be afforded.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you” Salem’s not-too-distant future self proclaims, watching the man’s hand begin subtly reaching behind himself before brandishing her own rifle. “I’m not so sure about you, but I know how to use my gun” the woman warns, watching the cautious reach her opposing survivor takes come to a momentary stop, “and just as I can assure you that I know how to use my gun, I can assure you that- if I shoot- I won’t miss.”

“Franklin, you are one of the smartest, most sincere and toughest bastards I’ve ever met. As much love as I have for Alicia, there’s only one person that got in my good graces before all the others-” Salem’s past self reflects, lowering her voice slightly as she lifts the device closer to her face, “-from those runs with Heather and Cameron to those talks we’d have when we got into Concord... You always just came across like a dude that- even if I didn’t know why- I just knew I could trust.”

Forming an ‘O’ with her lips, Salem lets a deep sigh escape as a wave of tranquillity runs through her body, easing her as she sinks further into her seat. “You’re gonna be a great influence on the little one. I’m glad I met most of you after the world ended, ‘cause you kept me grounded in ways most of you never even realised. But Frank, man I wish I knew you before then. You could’ve set me in my place” she admits, “in case I never said it before, sorry for almost shooting you that one time.”

*pop*

In the near distance, a loud thud hits the ground as Salem’s future self watches on, her rifle lowering from a readied position as the barrel redirects toward the ground. “I told you I wouldn’t miss” she murmurs aloud, letting her shoulders fall for a moment before stepping forward, approaching the flat’s front door, quietly pulling it shut before turning away, “I’m just glad you’ve got no family for me to feel guilty for.”

Into the backseat, the woman’s books find themselves coming into a new home, the comfort of a spacious truck proving as their final method of transportation from one location to the next. Laying her rifle alongside the passenger’s chair, Salem strolls around the front of the truck and up to the driver’s side, stepping onto the vehicle’s elevated floor before taking one final glance at the place she’d called home for one last glimpse.

“I suppose that brings me to the woman of the hour... Alicia” Salem’s past self remarks, pulling her extended leg away from the brake and onto the seat she occupies, continuing to stare at the bright headlights that flood her sedan’s interior with light, “y’know, when I was a little girl, I never really got along with my classmates. It didn’t matter what level of school it was, I was just never the kind that had the group of friends everyone thinks of when they imagine their youth.”

Using her free hand to open her door, Salem begins speaking louder as she lets free another noticeable sigh. “Eventually, I got to that point in my life where I could just cut people off. I’d go radio silent and- since I wasn’t the most remarkable person in their life- they’d just start forgetting about me” the woman conveys, shaking her head as the free hand begins to rest atop her bent knee, “then I started feeling glad I didn’t have those friends. It would’ve made disappearing a lot harder.”

With the look of dissatisfaction, Salem’s future self nods her head toward the dark window of her former flat before stepping into her new truck, slowly pulling out of the driveway before directing the vehicle toward the nearest main road. One headlight after another passes her as the adventure she begins to resume many years after she’d initially set out to have it starts taking centre stage.

“And now, I feel even more grateful that I never had those friends. I can’t imagine how hard it would’ve been to set out on my own if I had to say goodbye to every last one of them” Salem’s past self continues, blending in with her present all too much as pauses of absolute silence persist from the control of a driver’s seat. “I could never imagine having to do this over and over and over again... It’d drive me nuts” she admits, a smile beginning to form on her face, “I only have to do it once.”

To the company of silence, Salem’s departing drive eventually leads her to the one pitstop she’d planned to make before saying her final farewell to the compound, a mostly-empty parking lot eventually holding host to its second vehicle. Just beside a green station wagon, the well-equipped truck rolls to the front of a small and cosy library, where the lone keeper of all hard and soft covers alike just now begins turning off the building’s lights.

“I really hope you make it out of all of this alive. I hope all of you do, but Alicia... Fuck. Dude, I love you with all that I’ve got to offer in my heart” Salem expresses, wrapping her free hand around the headrest of her sedan’s driver’s seat. “I’ve seen you overcome addiction. I’ve watched you force yourself into accepting who people are in spite of who you really wanted them to be” she carries on, eyes wandering the brick wall her car is parked at.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” the departing woman calls out, catching the ear of the librarian as the older woman steps through the front door, preparing to lock the building down for the rest of the evening. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But, I- uh- I think I have a few books that the person who lived in my flat before I got there may have borrowed from you?” Salem explains, a visually pleasant and well-meaning nature presented, “I was hoping you could help me finally get them back where they belong.”

“You brought a baby into this world. You’re the strongest chick, the biggest badass and the toughest mama I have and will ever know” Salem proceeds, finally delivering her sedan’s interior with the fresh air that she needs to keep from falling apart emotionally. “Emilio, Franklin, Clint, Nessie, Jack, Lauren- whoever it is... I hope they all live long and happy lives” she confesses, beginning to grow sorrowful yet again in spite of the fresh air, “but this new world’s gonna need you, Alicia.”

“Thank you... Have a great night and be safe!” Salem calls out, waving goodbye to the librarian whom she’d finally finished her previous apartment’s tenant chore with the help of, climbing into her truck with nothing but open road ahead of her. Adjusting the rear view mirror she’d forgotten to fix before leaving her apartment, the driver fastens her seatbelt and stares into an empty backseat- the books returned to their rightful place just as she’s set to.

“I know I said I was no good at it, and that I was making this in order to prevent myself from having to... But I felt like I shouldn’t be able to go without at least saying it once” Salem quips, her past self watching the truck’s owner dip back into his flat in search of the next item to load into his bed. “After all that we’ve been through, I couldn’t just walk off into the middle of the night without a word...” she confesses, shaking her head as she puckers her lips, “...not this time.”

“On behalf of Nova Scotia, we wish you the safest of travels” the guard overlooking one of Nova Scotia’s few entry points from the outside world remarks, stamping a small booklet with Salem’s image and likeness on it. “Thanks” the woman replies, nodding her head toward the man as the sound of approval from an overhead patrolman fills the air, granting the massive, steel doors to the outside permission to part, allowing the well-stocked survivor to reenter the world she never yearned to leave.

“From the bottom of my heart, I want all of you to know that I will love you forever” Salem recalls, some of the final words she’d uttered onto tape for her friends to hear playing on repeat in her mind as she finally ventures beyond the last stand of society’s compound walls. “Maybe the day will come where our paths will cross again. I hope for your sake that it isn’t you being forced back into my world this time around” she’d proceeded, her past self having failed to stop the tears again.

Just a kilometre and a half beyond the walls and firmly a no one to the Nova Scotian government once again, Salem parks her truck along a desolate hillside and steps out, taking one final look at the lights through the dark Canadian night. “Until we meet again, know that you will forever have a piece of my heart. I will love you all until the ends of the earth and to my dying breaths” she recalls, a smile coming over her face.

“For everything that we’ve seen and for all there is still yet to see” Salem whispers to herself, tucking her hands into her pocket as she embraces the wondrous sights of Nova Scotia for the final time. With a nod, the woman takes in the various lights and whatever other signs of civilisation there are to leave behind, accepting the terms that her departure has made unavoidable by turning back and returning for the driver’s seat, carrying on with her journey elsewhere.

\ Three hours later /

“For everything that we’ve seen and for all there is still yet to see...” the recorder plays, its tape being spun at the centre of a highly-populated flat, the words it had been used to share now meeting the ears they were intended for, Salem’s final message making its way to where it belongs, “...thank you- and goodbye.”

With the click of the machine’s mechanisms, the apartment becomes filled with a lifeless hush just as the recording had started playing alongside, not a soul able to know for certain what there is to say. Looking to each other, the group that remains awaits someone else to carry the mantle of the conversation, equally as unsure and undesiring of the right as all others.

Throughout the room, a palpable sickness can be felt, one that touches upon the back of each mind scattered throughout the flat. As if they’d begun to buy into the warnings that have been prepared for them, the group’s eyes soon find themselves pausing their wondrous journey across the room before falling away from all others, their focuses instead being turned to random and unimportant corners of the room that, unlike their friends, don’t inspire grave doubts.

“This is useless” Emilio finally breaks the silence to speak, the eyes of the four survivors immediately taking toward him as he steps off the couch, walking to the centre of the room before dragging the chair that sits in it back toward the kitchen. “Salem is completely right. I know exactly what she’s talking about with Charlotte. That look she gave us before shooting at Gamble” he declares, returning to the common area from the adjacent kitchen, “she will never stop.”

“What does that mean?” Franklin responds, his arm and a half crossed over his chest as he sits upright, “you can stand here and say Charlotte won’t stop, but how does that change anything that’s about to happen?”

“Yeah. Even if Charlotte’s got no end in mind, that doesn’t change the fact that the bridge over the water was just blown up. If that doesn’t signal war, nothing can” Jack replies, gradually pulling his arm out from around his wife’s neck, “we’re already at war. What does Charlotte’s stubbornness change about what’s gonna happen anyway?”

“‘Cause this war is going to be a bloody, violent, and relentless one if Charlotte has her way” Emilio replies, pointing his finger at the window near the back of the room. “It’ll only be a matter of time until we’re all drafted to serve in some makeshift army sent on suicide missions that result in nothing. Charlotte won’t accept concessions, she’ll sacrifice one life after another until she has the head of whoever’s taking over for Gamble” he continues, painting out a vicious cycle.

“Even when she has that guy’s head, she’ll want the one of whoever comes next. The same with the guy that follows, and so on and so forth” Emilio carries on, almost giving himself more anger than Salem’s departure leaves him with, “everyone will keep dying until she has that island back, but even that won’t be enough. She won’t have a bridge to connect the places, and she won’t have the leverage over whoever’s still alive and preferred the way the island ran themselves instead.”

“So it’s just one cycle of perpetual conquering and dissatisfaction?” Alicia inquires, crossing her left leg over her right as the voicing of her question barely finishes before the nearby sound of crying catches her ear. “Go ahead” Emilio murmurs, stepping aside to grant the mother whatever room she needs to venture off toward the tearful Buddy, “but yeah, it’s just one big cycle that repeats itself. The only consistent thing is that people just keep dropping like flies.”

“Then what the fuck do you suggest we do about that?” Jack questions aloud, slowly pushing himself off the couch before gradually making it to the halfway point of the room. “Don’t get me wrong, I like Charlotte perhaps less than anyone else here. But even with that said, let’s not sit around and pretend we have much of an option” the man proclaims, throwing his hands out in surrender, “for god’s sake, we’re already stretched as it is. No one here has any say in what comes next.”

“But we could” Emilio retorts, his counterpoint immediately called into question by one of the few visitors left to grace the flat with their presence. “Oh yeah? How?” Jack replies, standing just two metres away from the figure of leadership that had guided them to the wartorn compound, “do you suggest we switch sides? Maybe vote her out of power in the next election that I’m totally sure she’ll have... Wink wink. Just what do you suggest we do to fix our little Charlotte issue, Em’?”

Though he talks a big game, Emilio’s lips remain pressed together when the time comes to provide an answer, one that he’d know he doesn’t have if he were honest with himself. Remaining in her seat with hands folded, Lauren watches on from her place to the room’s side whilst the flat’s second tenant remains seated at its backside, his arms remaining crossed as he awaits the proposed solution just as all others do.

“We kill her” Alicia suddenly responds, turning the nearest corner with the child in her arms, rejoining the conversation and recapturing the centre of attention. Halfway rolling his eyes, Jack’s head leans to one side whilst Emilio hangs his head, more than aware that the only plausible answer is the one that the mother had just proposed.

“If that were a viable option, I would’ve done it when she literally gave me the chance” Jack responds, hands finding their way to his hips as his doubts are expressed, “this isn’t like the New World Order where we can take a shot at her and drive the woman out of our camp. She’s got allies here. There’s an entire standing army that takes their orders from her. We may have gotten away with it years ago, but now- well, I shouldn’t need to say anymore about why it no longer is.”

“I’m not suggesting we walk up to her, shoot her in the face, and then turn around and tell the military that they take orders from us all of a sudden” Alicia replies, reaching into the vicious recesses of her mind for the inspiration behind such a solution, “we could make it look like an accident. We could make sure she had a strong contingency plan in case she ever bit the dust, and as long as we were satisfied with who the alternative was... We strike.”

“We’d become the most wanted fugitives in the entirety of Nova Scotia” Franklin rebukes, stepping off the couch and approaching the room’s centre, joining the two men that already occupy it. “Anyone else could plead innocence, but whomever actually did the act would find themselves on the chopping block... Literally” he concludes, a statement that fails to strike fear within the heart of his wife.

“It’d be worth it to make sure our son didn’t grow up in the kind of world his aunt feared that he would” Alicia replies, staring into the quiet face of a baby that’s been lulled to sleep yet again. “No, it wouldn’t be” Emilio responds, watching the mother look him in the eyes upon his refusal, their eyes colliding amidst his pause, “it wouldn’t be because you wouldn’t be the one finishing the job here... I would.”

“Emilio, they are emotional and impulsive” Jack replies, failing to see the sense anyone else in the room has of killing the Nova Scotian chancellor, “you on the other hand have no excuse to be falling for the same nonsensical, suicidal rationale that they are.”

“Aside from a few speedboats, Charlotte lacks a bridge and boats to get anywhere even remotely close to Prince Edward Island. Even in spite of that, the woman will not rest until she has soldiers stepping on dry land across the strait” Emilio argues back, watching Jack turn away and begin lowering himself back to the open seat beside his wife.

“I never said she wasn’t delusional, I just said she’s too important in this compound for any of us to do anything about her” the departing husband responds, rolling his eyes at the idea that he has of potentially being the only sound voice in the room. “She has sway in this place like no one else. For fuck’s sake, she should! She started this whole damn place from the ground up” Jack concludes, kicking one leg over the other as his phone begins to ring, “to us... she’s untouchable.”

“And yet, she needs to fall” Alicia mutters aloud, looking into her son’s face as Franklin draws closer, gently resting his shortened nub on the child’s hand whilst his dominant arm softly cradles his wife’s lower back. “Yeah, we’ll be there in an hour or so” Jack remarks, answering the hasty voice on the other end of the line with a slight surprise, concluding the call before helping his wife stand up as they prepare to depart.

“That was Donnie. He’s one of the dudes close to Courtney” the man remarks, quickly retreating for the flat’s front door, “Lauren and I need to head back home right now.”

“But it’s not safe out there!” Alicia proclaims, keeping her voice low enough as she and her husband turn to face the disembarking couple, the shrug they receive in response being the only thing that they’re given in return. “Guys, you can’t just be leaving like th-!” Emilio remarks aloud, stepping forward with his hand outstretched before the couple brush him off, the warning he tries to offer falling on deaf ears as they quickly step through the entrance and close it behind themselves.

“Damnit!” Emilio grunts, punching the air as he spins around, coming face to face with the apartment’s tenants as the final remaining guest. “And then, there were four” Franklin jokes, a frown on his face and a brow raised over his right eye as he looks into his child’s face, a remark that their final visitor fails to react to.

Shaking his head, Emilio lets out a grunt as he storms to the apartment’s front door, stepping through it quickly whilst the couple that he departs from shake off the exit, already having accepted the terms of their group’s fractured state by this point. “And then there were three” Alicia murmurs, gently rubbing Buddy’s cheek with her extended index finger, his peaceful face bringing a half-smile over the face of a woman emotionally drained from the loss her night was crafted from the ashes of.

= 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 =

“Come on- in here!” Harvey calls out, taking Katie by the hand and leading her through a swarm of protestors, heading for the higher ground that a multi-story hotel appears to offer. Keeping their heads low and hurry intact, the pair shield themselves from any projectiles that may pose a threat before dipping into the remains of a window that’s been shattered amidst the destruction this horde of humanity has littered the island’s once-capital city with.

“Hey, Harvey... Where the hell are we going!?” Katie calls out, her voice amplified by the mostly-empty lobby that she and the man quickly run through, only a few stragglers left behind, covering themselves behind whatever furniture they can find to avoid the chaos they’d accidentally stumbled into. “Wherever the hell it’s safe” Harvey shouts back, beginning to climb the length of an unpowered escalator in search of the next level, his acquaintance left with little choice but to follow.

Down one corridor, around a corner and hurrying into the stretch of another hallway, the pair continue to bolt through the spacious and unoccupied passageways through what would most often be a peaceful and luxurious stay. Though she pays little mind to it, Katie takes a few seconds after every turn to let the oddity of where they traverse sink in, having spent so long outside in a crowded mass of people that the empty and less-travelled halls feel eerie in a strange way.

From one floor to the next, the survivors proceed onward with their scurry up the height of the building, each level bringing them a bigger picture of the havoc-strewn city they’ve yet to see for themselves. “For fuck’s sake, are we going to keep climbing forever!?” Katie calls out, having spent the majority of their journey keeping to herself, instead opting to let the man ahead of her inspect their surroundings for himself, a more informed look taken at their unfamiliar environment offered.

Coming to a stop at the end of another passageway, Harvey takes a look around the area before following the walls with his eyes, an open door almost immediately capturing his attention. “Over here” the man proclaims, leading the charge to an open room before taking a pause, allowing the woman to step ahead of him as he reaches for the nearest light halfway down the corridor’s length, unscrewing the bulb to entrench the path in darkness and keep unwanted travellers away.

Shutting the door on the entrance of her colleague, Katie locks the room off from the outside and presses her back against it, lifting her chin toward the ceiling as she gathers her breath. “What the fuck is going on!?” she bellows aloud, already aware of the answer, but incapable of preventing herself from voicing it aloud, the inquiry coming too naturally to be ignored.

“They’re rioting, what does it look like?” Harvey responds, standing at the front of the room with both hands on his hips, collecting himself for a moment before springing further into action. “Word’s getting around like wildfire. The island’s full of people- both from here and from over the bridge- and they’re all finding out about the lockdown at the same time” he continues, stepping up to a set of doors at the opposite end of the room from his friend, “they’re all cut off from the mainland.”

“What are you doing?” Katie questions aloud, listening to the sliding doors part ways, granting her colleague entry to the balcony adjacent to the room, the exposure to open air immediately bringing a misplaced worry over the woman. “They can’t get to us from up here. Don’t worry” Harvey responds, stepping onto the terrace with caution before peering over the edge, a follow up that he’d carried on the tip of his tongue immediately falling away from his mind as he stares out below.

Trying to catch her breath as best as she can, Katie turns around to double check that she’d locked the door before walking across the room, slowly joining beside the man who already spectates the goings-on of the world from well above. “Wow” Harvey whispers, stepping aside to allow his friend access to the bannister, watching the woman’s hands wrap over it as she takes a gander for herself, “this is an uprising.”

Gathered en masse, the residents of Prince Edward Island huddle together in display of their disapproval for the actions of their ruling government. Wielding lit torches, various melee weapons and loaded firearms, the people of the breakaway landmass refuse the qualities of civilisation they’ve been demanded to present, instead opting to present their dissatisfaction for the regime by making a swarm of people too large for any one power to control.

“Can you blame them?” Katie asks aloud, every strip of land meant for automobiles, emergency vehicles, and other public transportation now completely filled with a horde of residents vehemently opposed to the ruling class that offers them nothing in the way of information, reassurance, or comfort.

“Gamble’s radio-silent and they’ve just now found out that he’s been pulling the strings behind their backs” Katie remarks, shaking her head as the wind begins to pick up, the late hours of an evening beginning to turn into the early hours of a new day. “Some of these people lived there. They have family there, or they have friends, or-” she continues, only to fall silent as the knot in her stomach thwarts any further deep dives into the populous, “-and now they’re stranded here.”

Each breath taken heavily and slowly, Harvey wraps his fingers over the railing’s ledge and leans inward, gazing at the spectacle below and recognising it as one that will not let up any time soon. Pulling away, Katie shakes her head with a loss for words and turns back for the unoccupied hotel room, watching the light of a nearby nightstand power out just as her friend’s voice speaks aloud.

“The power just went down” Harvey calls out, watching the street lamps in all directions go completely dark, sentencing the angry mob to a lightless and aid-devoid Charlottetown to a poor reception. Picking up in tenacity, the booing and shouts of defiance come over the populated city with thunderous motivation, enraging the crowd into further devoting themselves to the mob mentality that they already march with.

Throughout the streets, protestors pick up their displays of violence by lighting the insides of vehicles on fire with the use of their torches, whilst other survivors take whatever weighted objections they can find and hurl it toward anything fragile. “And it’s going to stay down until all of this stops” Katie replies, taking out the tie in her hair to allow each strand to fall freely, covering her shoulders as she kicks off her shoes and takes a seat at the end of the bed.

“The longer Gamble and Co. go without addressing the obvious, the worse all of this is going to get” Katie continues, sliding one sock off before beginning on the other, “whoever’s pulling the strings while they figure out how to get this under control is going to make it as uncomfortable for the people down there as they can in hopes that most of them will just fuck off to wherever they came from.”

“And since that won’t work, that means they’ll just keep shutting things off until the crowd dissipates” Harvey replies, already able to recognise the direction in which the woman’s claims are heading whilst keeping his eyes glued to the action outside. “And that means that- if we’re only up here to wait out the bullshit going on down there- we’re stuck up here” Katie concludes, stepping off the bed before sliding off her pants, “and if that’s the case, then I’m going to bed.”

Scoffing at the notion, Harvey continues to look at what rages on a few stories below whilst shaking his head, turning back to return to the room’s inside, “you really think you’re gonna fall asleep with all that going on out-?”

Falling silent, the man’s eyes wander upon the bare legs of his sudden roommate, watching them slip out of the trousers that had covered them up until that moment. “I’m tired and spent the majority of the day on a boat from one island to another. I have a bed, I have a blanket, and I have a pillow” Katie replies, quickly lifting her shirt off before tossing it into a corner of the room and making her way toward one side of the mattress, “Gamble’s fights will not keep me from sleeping.”

Having stopped halfway through the patio doors, Harvey watches with widened eyes and his mouth partially open as the woman climbs into bed, taking a momentary glance toward him as she slides beneath the covers. “What?” Katie inquires, paying little mind to the reaction as she lays on her side, a shake in her head offered before it collides with the soft pillow, earning a satisfied release of the woman’s captured breath.

“I- uh- nothing” Harvey stutters, shaking his head before dipping his hands into his pockets, letting his eyes fall to the ground as he uncomfortably turns away, setting his attention toward the equally-dark building across the road from them. With a squint, Katie watches the man’s reaction for a few seconds before a sudden thought brings a smirk over her face, a last-second glance toward the pile of her clothes across the room from her solidifying the realisation.

“Oh please. For god’s sake, do not tell me you’re getting all rosy-cheeked like a teenage boy at the sight of an almost-naked woman” Katie laughs, sitting upright in bed whilst undoing the clasp of her bra. “I’m not! I just-” Harvey quickly rebukes, fully turning away from the woman whilst pressing the base of his hand against the open patio door, leaning against it as he runs through the various thoughts clouding his mind like a heavy fog, “-I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well you didn’t think I was going to sleep in my regular clothes, did you?” Katie responds, still too amused at the man’s schoolboy-like reaction to not grin, “at least expect me to take off my bra or something!”

“Katie, I just wasn’t expecting to see you naked... That’s all” Harvey replies, carrying the smile of a man still pleased with what he’d caught the glimpse of, even though he presents the slightest embarrassment- never having seen the woman in such an exposed state despite their months of shared work.

Discarding her bra for the uncomfortable hassle that it truly is, Katie tosses the covers off herself before climbing back out of bed, standing in nothing more than the underwear that she soon slides off just as she did with everything else. “Well, take a good goddamn look, buddy” the woman responds, flinging the lime green coloured panties off to the pile in the corner before extending her arms, leaving nothing to the imagination, “I imagine we’ll be here for a while... so get used to it.”

Lifting the knuckle of his thumb to the space between his teeth, Harvey presses down against his skin as he fights the temptation to turn around, ultimately falling victim to his mind’s curiosity. “I don’t mind. I don’t have the body of a supermodel or anything, but I’m confident in what I’ve got. Other people seeing whatever it is that I have isn’t something that phases me” Katie confesses, watching the man turn around and stare wildly at the presentation afforded to him.

“I have boobs, a vagina, and a womb. Every woman does, and I am no exception” she continues, gesturing to her body as if it were no different from any other, “I know some people feel differently about nudity, but that’s my opinion of it. I don’t know, maybe I’d feel differently if I was here with someone other than you, but that’s not the situation we’re in.”

“Why would you feel differently?” Harvey replies, finding the follow-up odd for the statement that it had stemmed from. “Because it’s you. We’ve spent how many months working together? You already know I’ve got the hots for you. If it were someone I wasn’t into and didn’t trust like you, maybe I’d feel differently about being naked around them” Katie answers, shrugging as she couples her hands behind her back, “but you? I’m cool with it.”

“And you feel a specific way being naked around me instead of someone else?” Harvey clarifies, shaking his head with a level of confusion strong enough to share his interest with the woman’s body sparks in him. “Of course I do. If it were someone else, I’d just tell them to deal with it or find somewhere else to sleep” Katie responds, turning away and beginning her march back to the mattress, “with you? Well to put it bluntly, I’d just hope you’d think I was hot. Not much more to it, I guess.”

Flustered, Harvey bows his head whilst his roommate steps across the room, climbing back into bed as her nude body falls behind the veil of the comforter once more. “Either way, the shit going on outside isn’t going to die down anytime soon. If you’re not gonna go find another room, you might as well just get as comfortable with it as I am” Katie concludes, pulling back the covers of the opposite side of the mattress to present the man his half, “the invitation’s open.”

Though he looks up, the man’s face stares blankly at the open side of the bed, watching the woman lay herself the rest of the way into it on the other end. Ruffled, the pulled-back comforter awaits Harvey’s arrival as he weighs the option, thinking quietly to himself as the offer awaits its answer, Katie’s closing eyes making it evident that she’s fine with whatever choice he makes.

|

“What the fuck’s going on here!?” Jack shouts, stepping out of the car he parks just beyond the reach of his garage door, slamming his door shut as he marches toward the home he and his wife share with anger coursing through his veins. “Mr. O’Rourke, please calm down” Donnie quickly retorts, extending his hands calmly in a show of good faith as a gesture to prevent the man from marching any further than his makeshift workshop’s entrance.

“Calm down? Calm down!?” Jack barks, barely able to hear the steps of his wife’s feet over their gravel-filled parking lot as she catches up to him, “are these your guys!?”

“They are, but they’re only-” Donnie begins to reply, stepping in front of the homeowner as he attempts to wander past, angrily attempting to march toward the members of the compound’s army that single-handedly confiscate every piece of equipment from the home’s garage, “-they’re only here on Charlotte’s orders!”

Shoving Donnie away, Jack sidesteps the man and approaches the closest guard to him, immediately drawing interest from the guards that stand by in the event of an altercation. “Put my shit down!” the man exclaims, pulling a gun out and taking aim with its barrel toward the three men lugging a hefty pressing machine into the open air.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Donnie immediately orders, waving his hands toward the militants that surround the home in every direction, aware of the hostility that suddenly consumes the confrontation, and eager to prevent it from getting out of hand. “Donnie, tell these scumbags to put our shit back or I’ll blow this guy’s fucking brains out, so help me g-” Jack demands, unable to finish his colourful language-filled tirade before the man he questions interjects.

“I know you’re pissed off and you’ve got every right to be, alright!? I’m not gonna try to tell you that you’re overreacting or anything like that, okay!?” Donnie pleads, trying to reason with the man who rightfully reacts with aggression at the sight he’s presented with, “pointing that gun isn’t going to help anyone here. If you lower it and talk with me, I’ll tell them all to stop for the time being.”

“I want them to stop period” Jack argues back, speaking to a man sympathetic to his cause, but not delusional enough to go against the orders demanded of him. “I’d like for that too, but unfortunately- none of us can stop this” Donnie replies, continuing to speak to the back of the man’s head whilst the gun remains aimed, “I promise you that they want to be taking your stuff even less than you want them to. But these are Charlotte’s orders and we can't disobey them.”

“Bullshit. You can all drop what you’re doing, give me back my shit, and drive off” Jack responds, fighting off his more vicious intentions by lowering the gun and turning to face the only voice that speaks to him, keeping the burning rage within him intact. “It’s that simple” the man argues, letting his pistol hang by his side whilst Donnie gestures for the militants to cease their duties, “but instead, you’re taking my shit. You’re confiscating what I bought. So now... tell me why.”

“Because Charlotte’s ordering a full shutdown on all privately-operated businesses manufacturing conflict-based armaments” Donnie immediately replies, shaking his head apologetically, “that includes the confiscation of all privately-owned weaponry and armour-based machinery and utilities effective immediately.”

“And why the fuck am I supposed to do what Charlotte wants?” Jack retorts, the feeling of Lauren’s hand gently resting on his chest being the lone force preventing his aggression from boiling over. “The answer is as simple as saying ‘she’s in charge’” Donnie confesses, watching Jack grunt as he turns away, staring off into the open field across the way from his home to keep from letting his frustration escalate any further.

“Whether you like it or not- Nova Scotia’s at war. There’s no way of knowing who is or who isn’t a threat to the people in charge” Donnie continues to explain, though the remark isn’t one that’s allowed to exist without pushback. “And what exactly does Charlotte think stripping her citizens of their livelihoods is going to accomplish?” Lauren quips, motioning her hand toward the seizing of their property as proof of her case, “if she didn’t have enemies before, she’s certainly making them now.”

“And you’d be an idiot to think that point hasn’t already been made to her” Donnie admits, trying to level with the woman just as he had tried with her husband, “what Charlotte says goes, and it’s been that way ever since the walls went up. Whatever happens moving forward is up to her.”

“Do you think that’s a good thing?” Jack retorts, returning to the conversation after a brief departure, trying to gauge the mindset of the man that had tried to justify stripping them of their belongings. “I mean, what are we supposed to do!? This is how we afford to live!” he continues to proclaim, hands outstretched toward the home they’d rightfully earned, “and now what!? That’s taken away from us all because some paranoid freak show doesn’t want her actions coming back to bite her!?”

“Wouldn’t you do the same thing?” Donnie inquires, believing himself to have caught the man in a moment of hypocrisy, only for the ease in which he answers to prove such a theory wrong. “No, I wouldn’t! I held a gun at Charlotte’s head right-fucking-here and had the chance to blow her fucking brains out like that!’ Jack shouts, standing in the open garage and snapping his finger, “but I chose not to open a can of worms! I could’ve- and probably should have- killed her like that!”

“He’s telling the truth” Lauren quickly reassures, speaking the moment her husband’s initial response finishes before crossing her arms, nodding to Donnie as the man looks back to her. “I can say- with proof- that I wouldn’t do the same thing! I wouldn’t have done the same thing because I wouldn’t have made the mistake she did!” Jack doubles down, returning to the man’s presence, “I knew better. If I’d shot that bitch when I had the chance, do you think I'd have had to suffer the consequences?”

“Of course you would’ve” Donnie answers honestly, watching spit fly from the man’s lip as he angrily grunts the same four words. “Of course I would’ve, but that cunt can’t control her fucking temper and gets us into a massive shit show, but we have to be the ones that lose everything because she doesn’t want to face the music” Jack scathingly grumbles, his lip curling and nostrils flaring as he looks the chancellor’s representative in the eyes, “as far as I’m concerned? Fuck her.”

Though the words cease between the three, Donnie still shakes his head beneath the wave of tension that comes over the area, unable to offer the kind of apology worthy of the action he’s been tasked with carrying out. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry to both of you” the man responds, watching the husband shake his head in refusal and turn away, walking back home with anger, “this is just the way it has to be.”

Nodding to himself, Jack clicks his tongue and begins laughing out of anger, spitting at the ground before taking the barrel of his pistol into the air and opening fire at the night’s sky. One after another, gunshots ring throughout the open area as the militants remain cautious, weapons drawn at the man in the event his trigger is pulled in anyone’s direction.

“Y’all hear that!? Y’all hear that gunfire!?” Jack screams aloud, his voice carried toward the direction of the armed men standing by and watching his outburst. “I’m not sure who it’s gonna be, but somebody is gonna get their hands on your chancellor! Yeah, that’s right! This shit!? This shit you’re pulling with me and my shit!? Yeah, some bastards ain’t gonna take that shit lying down!” he announces, making himself heard by all, “get used to that sound... that’s just the way it’s gonna be.”

Having emptied his magazine, Jack tosses the firearm onto his lawn and flips off the military that surround his home, defiantly bidding them adieu as he re-enters his home, removing himself from the conflict that drives him into a new level of rage.

|

“Charlotte!” Courtney shouts, quietly walking through the corridor of a renovated Moncton city hall before peering around the corner and past the open door of the chancellor’s office, finding an absence of anyone other than the woman herself. “What’s up?” Charlotte responds with a casual tone, her feet kicked up onto the side of her desk to the right of her computer monitor, the various documents that she has opened on the screen taking attention that the mob outside the building tries to claim.

Taken aback, the visitor stops halfway through the doorway and stares forward, watching the woman’s eyes take from one side of the screen to the next, reading a line of text quietly to herself before proceeding to the next. “What’s up?” Courtney repeats, calling the reply into question after taking a few seconds to digest it, watching the woman’s face finally pull away from the bright screen, taking to her direction.

“Yeah... that’s what I asked?” Charlotte reassures, leaning back further in her seat without a care in the world, “what’s up?” Without a word, Courtney walks across the room and stretches her hand toward the nearest window, displaying the chaotic scene unfolding just outside the capitol building. “Do you not see what’s happening out there?” she wonders aloud, hearing the sounds of repressed chanting and aimlessly wandering protestors.

“Sure I do” Charlotte responds, watching her friend turn back to look at her whilst reaching for a nearby glass of water, “they’ve been at it for a few hours now. They make it really hard to concentrate.” Though she can decipher the English used by her superior and understand it with perfect clarity, Courtney reacts with an awe and immeasurable loss, similar to how she would act if they weren’t speaking the language, but more akin to a disbelief that such a remark would be uttered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Courtney retorts, her eyes wide and mouth agape, staring at the woman who squints back to her, almost unsure of why the subdued tone of disgust would be provided to her. “You’ve got thousands of people tearing through the streets because they’ve got no fucking clue what to do now!” the guest remarks, watching the chancellor roll her eyes, “some of these people have lives out on Prince Edward that they can’t get back to now.”

“I never wanted Gamble to blow up that bridge” Charlotte replies, dismissing the claim as if it had nothing to do with her. “Do you think that makes it any better?” Courtney quickly rebukes, calling the woman’s defence into question, “do you think that anyone out there should give a damn about whether or not you wanted that bridge coming down? Do you think that changes anything about the situation we’re in now?”

“I wasn’t the one that planted explosives around the bridge, and I’m not the one that’s keeping them from going back home” Charlotte responds, still casually resting in her seat as if the night were like any other, “Gamble brought the bridge down, and all of this mess is on his hands.”

“You pulled the fucking trigger, Charlotte” Courtney immediately rejoinders, watching the apathetic frown her superior reacts with as a response, “and because of that, this entire compound is in a goddamn uproar.” In silence, the chancellor sits with the remarks that have been offered whilst continuing to stare at her subordinate, remaining quiet in lieu of further proclamations she’s come to anticipate.

“Now people are out there. They’re lost and afraid, and they’ve got no clue where the hell to go now” Courtney continues, passing a few looks toward the hostile mob only kept at bay by the armed guards protecting the hall’s interior from the wrath of the residents. “Some of them have lives over there that they can’t get back to. They have family and friends! Hell, two people from Emilio’s group are over there right now!” she proceeds, instantly cut off.

“I warned that man to get anyone he cared for over here before things got out of proportion... That’s not on me” Charlotte argues back, her interruption met with an interjection of her subordinate’s own. “No, but everything else is” Courtney replies, a dissatisfied look paid to her from the chancellor’s face, “and right now, you’ve got an entire community that needs answers from someone-” the paramotorist declares, hands finding their way to her hips, “and instead, you’re in here.”

“Alright, Court’... What do you suggest that I do?” Charlotte inquires, taking a sip from her glass of water before crossing her arms and leaning further back, “do you want me to walk out and tell them all ‘sorry, but you’re stuck here now. Too bad, so sad, move on’ and move on with life?”

“I want you to do your fucking job!” Courtney shouts back, answering the question the second it’s finished being voiced, a sudden pause coming over her as the anger she’d tried to suppress makes its way to the surface. “You’ve thrown this entire place into chaos! And I don’t give a shit why you did it, the only thing I care about is that you fix it!” she proceeds, aggravatedly swatting a book off a table near the far end of the office, “instead, you’re sitting here like you don’t give a shit.”

“I don’t give a shit” Charlotte reassures, watching her subordinate fall silent at the admission, one that hadn’t been expected. Pulling her feet off the desk, the chancellor unfurls her arms and steps out of her chair, finally shifting her attitude from one of dismissal to something confrontational, willing to take part in the infuriated discourse her subordinate has proposed.

“Do you think I can afford to care about how sad some random guy who happened to be on the wrong side of town at the wrong time is because he can’t get back to feed his cat?” Charlotte interrogates, slowly stepping around her oakwood desk and drawing nearer to her argumentative acquaintance, “in god knows how long, we could have boats rolling into our port cities and purposefully spilling thousands of armed enemies or fast zombies into the compound.”

“And whose fault is that?” Courtney quickly wonders back, her voice low to match the proximity her superior now comes from her, almost instantly earning a shouted response for her efforts. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is anymore!” Charlotte barks, both hands flying out at either side, “the point is that Gamble- or whoever's in charge over there- could be minutes, or hours, or days, or weeks away from launching a return attack as suddenly as the one he opened earlier this afternoon.”

Returning to her sides, the chancellor’s arms hang loosely before her right hand lifts to point at the window that had captivated her subordinate’s fixations, using it as an illustration to strengthen her point. “Those people out there won’t give a damn about anything that I’d have to say unless it was a bold-faced lie that everything was going to be alright” Charlotte points out, shaking her head in refusal, “but it won’t be. It won’t be because that’s the nature of war.”

Remaining stoic in her hush, Courtney continues to look into the eyes of the woman that stands opposite her, trying to retain every word that’s uttered in spite of the incredible revulsion that they provoke within her. “They can loot shit, they can start fires, they can shoot each other- it doesn’t matter” Charlotte concludes, again steadying her point at the crowd-facing window, “they’re all gonna have to come together and fight with each other in Nova Scotia’s name all the same.”

Dropping her hand, Charlotte finishes her thought and turns away with satisfaction, walking for her seat on the opposite side of the desk before the voice she leaves behind catches her ear once more. “And why should they exactly?” Courtney inquires, watching the chancellor turn back to glance at her from over a shoulder, “the whole concept of Nova Scotia’s unification is what drove their leader to wage war and destroy their lives. So why fight for that concept?”

In silence, Charlotte turns the rest of the way around and stares back at the woman across the room from her, unable to fully divulge the thoughts that circle around her head as a response that ultimately isn’t yet needed. “Or maybe I’m asking the wrong question” Courtney corrects herself, stepping forward to voluntarily close the gap that separates the women, “maybe they should fight for Nova Scotia. Maybe- and I’m just spitballing here- maybe the thing they shouldn’t fight for... is you.”

With the slightest redirection of her chin, Charlotte’s confused and slightly irritated expression revolts into one of rage and absolute intolerance, her nostrils flaring and eyes widened. Tensing up, the woman’s body takes a statue-like position where it had stopped off prior to the defiant remark, her eyes unwavering from Courtney’s face, which only further deepens her anger.

“Get out” Charlotte calmly responds, stepping away and finishing her retreat to the unoccupied seat at her desk, lowering herself back into it and trying to kick her feet up as if the interaction hadn’t gotten the best of her. Aware that the conversation will no longer find success of any regard, Courtney seethes silently before nodding to herself, turning away and making for the exit whilst the chancellor stares into the monitor that her feet sit beside.

For a few seconds, Charlotte sits with her thoughts and does the best at trying to resume her prior duties whilst reaching for her water, lifting it to her lips before pausing. With a twitch in her right eye, the woman’s ears take to the obnoxiously loud gathering just beyond the windows that separate her from the public. In a moment of outrage, the chancellor hurls the glass across the room, watching it shatter against the cement wall, her head tilting back as she tries to regain her composure.

== Rise ==