S7, E11 | The State of the Nations

In silence and on her own, Courtney stares into the fallen society that surrounds downtown Moncton from behind the building’s cover. From the odd comfort of the perceived safety, the woman’s eyes take to every lit flame and raised fist that stand at the mob’s frontlines, representing the unity of a nation divided at the top but never at the soul. For what they are, the displays of aggression presented by the populace fail to reach the ears of their chancellor, but aren’t invisible.

With arms crossed, she leans against the railing to a nearby central staircase and continues to stare at the unrest unfolding around the city, unsure of what such a vehement display of defiance could result in when all is said and done. Though the idea of calling into question what is still to come appears tempting, Courtney’s mind takes to the individuals that she sees from the crowd, barely able to view their faces from the moonlight that switches to the start of a new day in that moment.

Picking out a white man with a red beard, glasses, a black sweatshirt and a middle finger raised to the armed supports maintaining the safety of the town hall, the onlooking right hand to the chancellor herself considers what their minds must be ravaging over. Thinking of the family that man may now be separated from, Courtney considers the fact that he’s as entirely unsure of whether or not they will be reunited as she is, and the fears that may motivate his every action.

From beside him, a black woman, slightly overweight and dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a blue tank top stands near the front of the crowd in tears, openly weeping to the standing guards tasked with dismissing her just as they would anyone else. Clutched within the palm of her left hand, the woman holds a baby’s onesie that she presses the side of her face into every few seconds, hugging it as if that were all she had left of the child it was meant to be worn by.

Just a few metres away, a black man with no hair and dressed in a white t-shirt and sweatpants simply stands near the front of the crowd with the look of defeat, his head lowering as he begins to realise that the men the rest of the mob scream at will provide nothing to answer his doubts. With one hand lifted to his face, the gentleman begins to look behind himself as the weight of the crowd pushes him ever so slightly, nudging him forward despite his hesitancy to waste any more of his time.

From within the safety of the bombproof and well-defended city hall, Courtney continues to stare into the wave of people until her mind’s considerations become too heavy for her to do anything but look away out of shame. Her back turned toward the majority of the building, the woman takes recognition of the fact that she too, just like the soldiers at the building’s entrance, stands between the people and answers they search so passionately for, the lone voice that can offer them staying mum.

Though most of the activities just beyond the front steps of the compound’s government building are illuminated by the flames of careless fires and streetlamps climbed by unruly residents, Courtney herself stands bathed in the light of the moon above, the only obstructions in the natural source’s way being the various branches of spaced-apart trees.

Sorrowful and dejected, the woman’s face turns toward her side where more of the same sight can be seen, angry protestors demonstrating their response to the lack of a leader all held at bay by the well-equipped patrol that props up a selfish regime, one that Courtney has never felt more ashamed of.

Hanging her head, Courtney’s eyes take to their corners for a brief moment as her front barely grazes the direction of what rests behind her, a surprising view catching her interest. Behind desks and scattered around the lobby, other government workers follow much the same line of action as the grounded paramotorist herself does, watching the chaos that prevents them from exiting the building with ensured safety and considering the horror within the hearts of those they’d sworn to provide for.

Near the back of the lobby, two women sit at different secretary stations and watch the crowd before their eyes eventually take toward Courtney, sharing a brief look of dolefulness with the woman before staring away. Along a leather-cushioned bench near the lobby’s centre, a man with a half-intact business casual ensemble shares a similar guise with the chancellor’s right hand, he too finding himself to be too ashamed for anything more than a hung chin.

Within her mind, the woman considers the various other stranded employees all just wishing they could walk through the doors and head home to their families whilst they still can, realising that they are all just as lost as her. With wishes of being able to provide answers, Courtney comes to an acceptance that no one truly has any, and none of those unfamiliar faces and nameless staff members knows in that moment what is still to come.

Internally, the right hand wishes someone could walk through the doors and tell the people what no one knows for certain. In an instant, the truth can be afforded to the civilians that face an uphill journey to recovery, the potential for violence and bloodshed to persist in a way that makes the outside world appear as a cakewalk. Even if undesired, the reminder that brutality is still likely around the corner could at least provide something of value to people as aimless as she is.

But instead, all that Charlotte Walters’ government can be represented by is a shared ignorance, a mutual uncertainty that neither can say they’re able to see through- at least, that’s what the desired narrative is. Coming to the begrudged acceptance that instead of peace, Courtney will represent an administration willing to sacrifice the intelligence of the people for bloody conflict that there is no true end to in sight.

Beneath a clear sky, a crowd occupies the grounds without a purpose to take their eyes toward the heavens, nothing given to them suggesting anything more than vehement disapproval for the dismissive silence they receive is warranted. It’s in this moment that Courtney’s eyes retake to the crowd with a renewed vigour, one that looks into the individual faces of suffering and misery with an irrational drive to end this careless display before anyone has to be stranded in it any longer.

“What’s going on here!?” a red-bearded man exclaims from the front of the protestors, screaming for the same assistance as the thousands that fill the streets around him, their yearning all centred upon the representatives of the Charlotte regime. “When will we be allowed to go home!?” the woman with a baby’s onesie cries out, the defeated survivor just a few metres off to her side shaking his head with aggravation, giving up on the display, “fuck this shi-” he grumbles.

*pop, pop, pop*

Ducking for cover, the majority of the crowd look toward the heavens in search of the sound of sudden gunfire, the barrels of the military’s rifles taking to the sky in much the same quest. “Everyone shut the fuck up and listen!” Courtney cries out from the building’s rooftop through a megaphone, her pistol residing in the opposite hand that soon returns to the level of her hip, an audible hush coming over the mob that falls into an almost immediate silence.

“My name is Courtney, and I’m standing here on behalf of Charlotte. I’m not here to feed you lies or give you bullshit, I’m just here to try to give you some peace of mind” she proclaims, the opening line being met with a continued hush, something that she takes as a huge positive. 

“The bridge to Prince Edward Island went down this evening- or yesterday evening- I’m not sure if it’s past midnight yet or not. But that much we all know” Courtney begins, lifting one leg onto the lip of the building as she speaks, looking out at the various faces slowly making their way farther from the ground and toward her direction.

“Clearly, there’s no longer any way to get to the island by car. As is, Nova Scotia is short on boats, so we’re asking you to refrain from crowding the docks in hopes of getting a lucky ticket across the Strait” she explains, trying her best not to step on metaphorical toes with what she says, not wanting to jeopardise any plan her superior may have.

“For those of you that live across the bridge or have family there, I’m sorry to be here and tell you this, but there is no clear timeline- as of yet- on when we can get you back there” Courtney confesses, watching the visible dismay come over a large percent of the crowd below. “Even if we were to assure you safe passage over the water, we also can’t be sure that the island is safe” she continues, trying to paint the place in which the survivors are stranded as a safer alternative.

“We are not sure whether or not the man responsible for bringing the bridge down is alive or dead. Either way, our lack of access to the bridge leaves us unable to influence the politics of the island” she continues to admit, trying to use what little she can to clarify everything, “for the last number of years, he was an incredibly influential figure over our continued operation of the island. If he in fact made it across before detonation, the island likely at least has stable leadership.”

“We want to go home!” a man shouts from the crowd, drawing the interest of the armed military defending the capitol building, most of the unrest they’d been tasked to keep at bay having naturally subsided. “I understand that you want to go home, but I think it’s also important to mention that the island is incredibly unstable as of this moment” Courtney expresses, “in the event this man made it across, his motivations are not with those of the people- but rather with himself.”

“Just like Charlotte!” the same disruptor calls out, refusing to allow the paramotorist an easy time at explaining the ordeal to the public. “Charlotte’s not the perfect leader and I’m pretty sure even she would be willing to say just the same. However, even from a bipartisan view, Nova Scotia is far more secure than Prince Edward is at the moment” Courtney defends, “the banking is still operable, the electrical grid is still online, and we’re not running out of fuel any time soon.”

Shaking his head with disapproval, the man many stories below remains hush, not wanting to interrupt any further in light of at least being offered semi-reassurance. “Listen, everything that happens from this point forward will not be as smooth as what we’re used to. Circumstances change, and we’re required to change alongside it” the rooftop speaker continues, taking notice of the dying disruption that fills the streets gradually, overpowered by a collective silence.

“For the time being, we’re not sure what the people in charge across the bridge are planning. We don’t know if they’ll be plotting an attack or anything similar, but what we do know is that we’re safe here” Courtney proclaims, being met with a semi-tolerance from the outraged masses, “even I haven’t always personally agreed with Charlotte, but let’s not sit around and pretend like we’re not all here because of her foresight. She’s been ahead of the game before, and she will be now.”

“We shouldn’t be in this mess to begin with!” a second disruptor calls out from the crowd, this time met with more silence than the first, but agreement with him does hide within what’s unspoken. “We can talk about what should or shouldn’t be the case until we’re blue in the face, but that won’t change what’s happening now” Courtney argues back, extending her hand toward the gathered community, “and while we’re at it, let’s not pretend like we’re powerless here.”

Confused, the deviant resident waits for further elaboration alongside the rest of the mob, who all follow a similar suit. “The bridge coming down was the greatest setback Nova Scotia has seen since the dead started flooding the streets, and instead of hiding away like many of us did when that happened- you banded together” the woman declares, voicing her admiration for the compound’s population, “you wanted answers and accountability, and you fucking showed up for it!”

Though aware that this part of the speech is more of a good faith showing, the unified residents begrudgingly accept the verbal pat on the back that they’re been offered. “I’ll even level with you. When our old leaders left us in the dust, my family ran. Everyone took off to get what they could and flee where they knew to” Courtney admits, “in the process, I had to kill my own mother after she came back as one of the dead. But I- just like everyone- just took off running.”

Quiet and captivated, the crowd allows the woman to continue onward in hopes that the recollection will lead to a point worth hearing out. “Eventually, we found our way to a cabin in the mountains and tried to make due. It was only when a guy- a kid no older than eighteen- found us. Only then did the majority of us start learning how to accept what had happened” Courtney persists, digging deep within her mind to pull the memories from, “before then, we’d just waited for help.”

Collectively wondering the same thing, the crowd awaits the same conclusion that the speaker prepares to embark upon, hearing the voice that echoes through the wide end of a megaphone and reverberates throughout the cityscape. “The point is that when all of this first came around, and everything we’d ever known about safety was challenged, we just sat around and waited for our leaders to save us-” the paramotorist proclaims, “but this time around, you didn’t wait. You didn’t make that mistake.”

“Because we can’t trust you!” a third dissident barks aloud, this time met with a more vocal agreement by hundreds of his peers. “You shouldn’t! That’s why you’re here! I’m not suggesting you overthrow Charlotte, or myself, or anyone else in this building... But hold us accountable!” Courtney retorts, finally speaking something that resonates fully within the gathered community, taking a stand in favour of their continued existence.

“Charlotte knows what she’s doing, and she’s going to get us through all of this- even the worst of it- but you shouldn’t put blind faith in any of us!” the woman continues to declare, offering the civilians an olive branch to use in the event that they’re pushed to it. “The times that are coming may be awful or great- we don’t know either. But you should demand answers from us, or at least demand that we admit when we don’t have them-” Courtney confesses, “-and right now, we don’t.”

Unsure of how to react, the majority of the mob responds with silence, subduing the thoughts in their heads in favour of the woman’s further remarks. “I can’t promise the safety of your loved ones on the island. I can’t promise that the life you led when you were there will be there for you when- or if- you ever return home” Courtney utters, the melancholy vows she makes doing little to change the collective focus centred upon her, “I can’t promise anything about the island from here on out.”

With a slight hang in her head, the speaker digests the truth behind the statements that she makes, taking a slight sorrow from the uncertainty before trying to set her mind to more promising hopes. “But what I can promise is that all of you will be looked out for by Charlotte, by myself, and by Nova Scotia as our own” she swears, providing the little well-being that she can manage, “I can promise that we will do everything to make sure this place stays standing for you.”

Though struggling in their own variety of ways, the collective crowd continues to listen for the words that bounce off the concrete buildings and spacious air that the downtown environment holds home to, projecting the echoing words for kilometres wide. “You may not always like or agree with the way in which we operate, but we will do everything in our power to assure you of the most important thing-” Courtney finally concludes, “-that Nova Scotia will never become rubble and ash.”

Mostly displeased and bitter, the residents that occupy Moncton’s square at least take solace in their presence being attended to, buying into the claims made as something more than what they had received up to that point. “No amount of rioting or protesting tonight will change any of that. So please go home and try to be with- or make contact with- those you love” Courtney pleads, ending her proclamations for the evening, “for those with no home, we’re doing what we can to best assist you.”

Voicing her appreciation for their continued cooperation, Courtney bids farewell to the protestors that soon divide amongst each other, venturing in various different directions and fanning out in ways that appeared implausible just minutes prior. “Are we really doing what we can to assist them?” Charlotte wonders aloud, her arms crossed and back leaning against the concrete-encased exit to the rooftop-connected stairwell she’d climbed.

“I don’t really remember striking deals with hotels and motels to accommodate the influx in unwelcome immigrants, so please jog my mind” the chancellor continues, taking a sarcastic approach to her subordinate’s remarks before feeling the weight of a megaphone being shoved into her chest. “You haven’t- yet” Courtney replies, providing her friend with a sarcastic smirk as she pauses, “but please... go tell them that yourself.”

Chuckling, Charlotte lowers her head and begrudgingly accepts possession of the bullhorn, remaining put as Courtney walks past her to begin a descent back into the building. More than willing to let the conversation fade with that remark, the chancellor stares off into the distance of night before the paramotorist’s voice calls back to her, echoed throughout the cramped confines that surround the steps.

“By the way, they’re not immigrants. Last I checked, Prince Edward Island was part of the Nova Scotian complex” Courtney quips, listening to another laugh carry itself through the chancellor’s open mouth, “people moving from Arizona to Texas aren’t really considered immigrants, are they?”

“Courtney, just keep walking away” Charlotte responds, unfurling her limbs and slowly walking further through the rooftop, a casual stroll carrying her a few metres before the sound of her subordinate’s confrontational footsteps interrupt her peace of mind. “You wanted to keep Prince Edward in check so you could keep Nova Scotia intact, and you were willing to go to the ends of the earth to ensure that” Courtney inquires, stopping at the top of the stairs, “what’s the point of any of that?”

“Is there something you need to get off your chest?” Charlotte wonders aloud, looking to the sky with a squint before turning back to face her friend, watching the steady pupils hold firm to her. “Yeah, there is. I’m pissed off that you would see your people out there, know exactly what they wanted, and give them nothing” Courtney answers honestly, stepping forward and closing the distance between them, “that was the most piss-poor effort at leadership I’ve ever seen.”

“I told you they wanted lies and fallacies and they wouldn’t be satisfied otherwise. As far as giving them what they wanted, there was no easy solution” Charlotte retorts, waving her hand at the direction her inferior had stood to address the public, “nothing that you just did solves anything. The only difference it made was that there isn’t an angry mob at our doorstep anymore. In the long term, it only ensures they show up at the slightest act that they don’t like.”

“Like stripping people of their belongings because they can make homemade ammo and armour?” Courtney counters, watching her superior grin and lower her head, “yeah, don’t think Donnie didn’t call me and give me a head’s up about something that might cause a little bit of an uproar.”

“When we’re at war and the cost of living skyrockets, winters get really cold, and people find out about some real sick shit, do you really want them to be able to make guns, ammo, and armour?” Charlotte questions back, a much deeper squint carried in her rancorous visage, “angry people with guns and a reason to give up on life worked real great in America. Come to think of it, isn’t it funny how people don’t open fire on churches and schools when they’re not mad and sick in the fucking head?”

“We both know it’s just an excuse to keep people from calling for your head when the going gets tough” Courtney rebukes calmly, only to be reassured by the screaming tone of her chancellor. “You’re damn right it is! One hundred-fucking-percent it is, because I’m the end all-fucking-be all!” Charlotte shouts back, getting in the paramotorist’s face, “and thanks to your resounding speech, any necessity that I take is an open invitation to march on Moncton and set the bitch straight!”

“The bitch needs to be set straight” Courtney calmly retorts, immediately earning a heavy shove to the chest from the chancellor, who lets a pause interrupt her voice in order for the physical demonstration to take place. “So set me straight then, Court’. After all, you’re probably higher in the polls than me right now, ain’t ya?” Charlotte dares, stepping forward to again thrust her hands into the paramotorist, “maybe you’ll even put in my place so well- you’ll get to be the chancellor.”

“I don’t want to be chancellor” Courtney again replies with composure, staring at the ground as her backward steps stop once more, only to persist yet again with a third shove. “It seems like you really do” Charlotte argues otherwise, nodding to herself before stepping forward for a fourth time, only for the politely outstretched arm of the compound’s right hand to prevent her from drawing any nearer.

“Charlotte... stop” Courtney requests, still calm and collected, unwilling to let the interaction turn any closer into an altercation than it already has. “Why? You gonna let me push you all the way back to the stairs?” Charlotte asks, extending her arms after swatting the woman’s extended hand away, opening the space for a fourth shove if she really wanted, “if I really need to be put in my place, well I don’t see anyone else with the balls to do it.”

“I’m not gonna fight you, Charlotte” Courtney doubles down, staring at the ground once more whilst standing in place, both she and the chancellor frozen in their respective places. “Well if you’re not gonna fight me, my suggestion would be to do as I said before and keep walking away” Charlotte responds, closing the distance between the pair once more, though without the aggressive pushing, her face instead getting close to the side of her friend’s face.

“And the next time I tell you to shut up and let something work itself out, my suggestion would be to do as I fucking tell you to do” Charlotte reaffirms, her voice directed in a whisper to the subordinate’s ear, “I have to keep my eyes open for an enemy I’m not entirely familiar with, and they have control of everything north of Quebec City and outright naval superiority. The last thing that I need is to have a right hand woman- and very dear friend- that I can’t trust.”

Feeling the sensation of warm breath touch the side of her face through an increasingly-chilly early morning, Courtney stares into the distance with blank eyes and restrained frustration before turning back, climbing down the stairwell and disappearing back into the capitol building. On her own, Charlotte lets out a hiss-like grunt whilst turning away, taking a brief stroll through the rooftop as she collects her bearings, trying to prepare for the ambivalence that is ahead.

= 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 =

Running a brush over his teeth, Harvey uses the hotel-supplied essentials to prepare himself for the day that’s ahead, the small tube of toothpaste barely emptied onto the stick he wields against his grin. Fresh out of the shower and continuously having to wipe the foggy mirror with a hand towel, the man goes about his common routine before finishing up, shaving off the stubble from his chin and the sides of his face before finally returning to the nearby bedroom.

“You clean up well” Katie remarks, still nude beneath the covers of their bed whilst watching the man walk through the room, his decency only covered by a white towel tied around his waist. “It’s second nature at this point” Harvey responds, approaching the corner of their room occupied by a clumped up pile of clothing, “you learn to make do however you can when you’ve got clients, judges, juries, and other lawyers to fit in with.”

“Well you can represent me any day you want” Katie flirts, sitting upright as the man kneels toward the ground, sifting through the clothes to pick out which belong to him. “Don’t go committing any crimes and I won’t need to” the man replies, finally unravelling the towel to slide his legs into the pair of pants he’d first taken a hold of.

“I think there are already a good number of people the courts here will have to deal with before me” Katie retorts, climbing out of bed and eventually passing him by on her way to the patio doors. “You’re still naked” Harvey calls aloud, watching the woman pause and turn around with her hand on the sliding doors, not much of a care toward the claim made before her hand opens the path to the balcony.

“If you think that’s going to stop me, you’ve got another thing coming” Katie responds, stepping onto the terrace as Harvey shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he continues dressing himself. Too preoccupied below to take notice of the naked woman a few stories above, the Prince Edward protests continue their efforts well into the late morning, the hour having already reached nine on the first day of April for the year, the sky clear with only a few clouds spaced apart.

“It sounds like they’re still out there” Harvey proclaims, pulling his pants up the rest of the way and buttoning them in place before kneeling to the ground in search of his shirt. “That’s because they are” Katie mutters back, leaning against the guardrail to watch the flurry of souls continue traversing the streets below, their march both taking them toward the Charlottetown capitol building as well as any other street less occupied and patrolled- the riots continuing anywhere they can.

“You’d have to think that they’d be smart enough to realise that all this does is just hold people up, wouldn’t you?” Katie inquires, giving a half-hearted salute to the growing number of people below that take notice of her nudity, “I get that they’re upset, but I’d imagine even the least intelligent down there would understand that shutting everything down would be a horrible idea.”

“You’d be surprised at how many people I represented who’d done some of the worst things because they felt like all was lost” Harvey responds, quickly putting on his shirt before coming in search of his socks, “all it takes is the idea that your life has changed for the worst for the true animal inside some people to come out.”

“You never said you were a defence attorney” Katie replies with a lifted eyebrow, passing a look back to the man with the sensation of the overhead sun shining off the soft skin of her back, “I don’t know if that makes me like you more or less.” With a shrug, Harvey takes both cotton feet coverings and pulls them on one at a time, “I was a lawyer that made a good amount of money... That last part was usually the only thing women cared about” he confesses.

“Hmph” Katie retorts, turning to look back into the room completely as the man begins dipping his feet into the shoes he’d left the house the night prior wearing, “I’d imagine that was the case until you took off your pants, right?” Passing the woman an amused smirk, Harvey rounds the bed and reclaims the phone he’d left on the nightstand, making for the room’s exit.

“Leaving so soon?” Katie quips, beginning to retreat into the room as her mate appears keen on leaving, already dressed as if he were heading for another day at the office. “I’m gonna go see if I can find somewhere that’s serving breakfast, then I’m going to see if I can get my hands on a car and a map” Harvey answers, opening the door and stepping one foot through its opening, “then I’ll be back here waiting for you to get ready so we can head off for that fake office Gamble had for us.”

Though slightly disappointed that their hotel stay only lasted for one night, Katie nods her head in agreement with the understanding that they’d eventually be thrown out after long enough. “Stay safe” she responds, watching the man reciprocate the salute she’d paid to the onlookers in the street below, the door pulled shut upon the man’s followed-through exit, leaving the woman to make herself comfortable for the remaining hours until his return.

|

“I’m not sure, Lauren” Jack responds, sitting at their shared dining room table whilst staring at an open book, scrawlings written categorically down its length. “How can you not be sure? All I asked was if you’d found anything we could afford to stop paying” Lauren jokes, hand-drying a ceramic bowl with a white hand towel.

“Because I honestly haven’t been putting much thought into anything I’ve been looking at” Jack confesses, covering his face with his hands as he leans back in his seat, listening to his wife’s footsteps draw nearer to the side of the room he occupies. “Well duh. Why do you think I’m drying dishes instead of going grocery shopping or something?” Lauren calls into question, gently setting the clean bowl upon the table, “it’d be impossible for me to focus on something like this.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have even bothered trying” Jack concedes, letting his hands fall from his visage and reach for the booklet, closing its ends together before getting up to walk away from the table. “Oh for god’s sake, where are you going?” Lauren questions aloud, turning with the man’s direction and watching him vanish around the nearest corner.

“For a walk, I guess?” Jack replies, stepping into a dark hallway in search of the couple’s bedroom, “I just want to do something that’ll keep me from losing my mind.” Letting out a deep sigh, Lauren stands at the kitchen’s centre with her hands on her hips as a knock comes from the door at their living room, the power behind it not much threatening, but certainly appearing as if it were urgently desiring an answer.

“Who’s that!?” the husband calls out, turning back in the far reaches of the home’s pathway just before returning to their bedroom, watching his wife approach the door with as much certainty of an answer as he holds. “I’m not sure” Lauren calmly replies, a displeased look held toward the entrance as she approaches it, hand extended to take the knob into her hand and pull the doorway inward, granting her the sight of the same man who’d taken their possessions the night prior.

“What do you want?” Lauren questions aloud, passing a glance at the man to Donnie’s left and the woman to his right, both figures keeping their faces out of sight from the homeowners. “To have a conversation if at all possible” the man speaking on the compound’s behalf replies, watching Jack round the corner and make his way to the top of the stairs, an immediate eye roll taken toward the government official. 

“Oh goddamnit. I never liked the government before the world ended, and I still don’t now” Jack quips as he descends the steps, returning to his wife’s side whilst shaking his head, “does Charlotte need my foreskin now or something? Why the hell are you back here again?”

“Because I need your weapons” Donnie replies, immediately watching the look of reluctance and defiance come over the couple’s faces. Though he speaks with a straight face, the guise the Nova Scotian official wears soon descends into a smile, a brief laugh paid to the pair before his head too begins to shake, “I’m just kidding. That cracks me up every time” the man remarks, watching Jack angrily roll his eyes and turn away, beginning to climb their stairs once more.

Strenuously displeased, Lauren crosses her arms and leans against the doorway, showing the second half of the reaction to the man’s joke, one that gradually lessens the amused reaction the government administrator takes to his own jest. “No, I’m sorry... That was bad timing” Donnie confesses, hanging his head before unfolding a piece of paper that he’d held at his lap, extending it to the woman as her husband pauses his retreat, standing halfway up the stairs.

“Charlotte’s sent out this notice to everyone and- just because of your shared history with her- I figured I’d hand deliver this one while I was on this side of town” Donnie explains, watching the woman take ownership over the paper and look toward the writings upon it, a squint carried in her face as Jack returns to her side, looking over the paper for himself.

“She wanted to offer all those who’d surrendered their equipment to her a job in resuming their production on behalf of the government. In return, she’d pay them handsomely for aiding in the war efforts” Donnie continues, speaking aloud what the legal speak jotted upon the paper indicates, “the pay probably wouldn’t be what you’d been making before this, but it’s better than nothing at all. When the fighting ceases and the war ends, all of your equipment will be returned to you.”

“What makes you think we haven’t already made a stupid amount of credits as is?” Jack queries, allowing his wife to continue reading for herself as he looks up to address the man present at his doorstep. “I don’t and neither does she. I’m sure you’ve made plenty, but this offer is just so you’re at least not out of work” Donnie answers, his reply coming from a place of honesty, “the confiscations were just a matter of precaution. She’s genuinely appreciative of the cooperation.”

“I’m sure she’d be appreciative that we didn’t put up more of a fight” Jack responds, leaning against the doorway with one arm whilst tucking the other into his pocket, “she just knows we wouldn’t mind if she dropped dead and likes that we’re less likely to be able to get here there.”

“I don’t doubt that at all, but I can only voice what she’s told me herself” Donnie reassures, watching the wife’s head finally remove itself from the sheet of paper, “besides, if you took her up on this offer, it’d keep you from having to do any mandatory enlisting in the event she felt it was necessary to draft people to fight.”

“She’ll do anything but put herself on those frontlines, won’t she?” Lauren quips, crossing her arms once more and tucking the paper into the small of her elbow, “fucking shameful.” Begrudgingly inclined to bow his head and conceal his agreement, Donnie pulls in a deep breath before letting out a sigh, his arms extending as he attempts to speak, only for his right hand to accidentally strike the nearby reinforcement in the face.

“Oh, shit. Sorry!” the man remarks, turning from the couple briefly to make sure the woman he’d swatted was alright, “you good, Kels’?” the man to Donnie’s left inquires. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just look where you’re swinging that-” the woman answers, gently rubbing at the side of her face as she gestures the man she’d accompanied aside, wanting to take the focus off of herself before her sights catch a momentary glimpse of the couple at the doorway- her hung head having prevented one until now.

Cutting herself short, the stricken woman’s eyes widen as the reaction to the accidental strike falls completely out of favour for a look of awe at whom her gaze stumbles upon. With a mutual display of shock, Lauren’s crossed arms slowly loosen themselves from each other before going stiff halfway toward her hips, looking back at the woman whose eyes fixate upon her.

“What?” Lauren whispers in disbelief, recognising the face that meets her, the two women being the only ones to react with such surprise as the three men accompanying them stand by with irresolution over the event unfolding. “Do you two know each other or something?” Jack questions, looking at his wife before glancing back to the female reinforcement, having never seen the lady before.

Breaking out of her astonished stupor, Lauren looks to her husband for a brief moment before trying to gather herself, “yeah-” she mutters, looking back to the familiar woman who’d she’d long since presumed dead, never having imagined of a potential reunion, “-she’s... she’s Kelsey.”

Lowering her hand from the side of her face, Kelsey’s expression resembles the wife’s own to a perfect tee, a loss for words coming over the woman who’d not seen the private citizen since the earliest days of the outbreak. “Kelsey?” Jack replies, wearing a look of his own confusion as he stares back at his wife’s once-significant other, trying to recall the faintest details he’d once been told of, “isn’t that the woman you said Tori killed?”

Unable to look away from the apparent government official, Lauren’s lips struggle to press themselves together with how heavy her jaw feels, “apparently not” she murmurs, locking eyes with the woman who now occupies the top-most step of their home.

|

Though it’s rang multiple times throughout the duration of her stay at the bar, the chime of an overhead bell emanates from the front of Juliet’s tavern and captures Courtney’s attention along with it. “I was almost positive it would be you” the woman mutters with a half-smile on her face, watching an obviously preoccupied Emilio step across the floor and up to the empty seat beside the woman, giving her a pat on the back as he lowers himself.

“I’m surprised she kept the bar open” the new arrival remarks, giving an appreciative bow to the chancellor’s right hand woman as he accepts the beer bottle she slides over to him, offering a sip. “Juliet doesn’t close unless bombs are being dropped” Courtney reassures, crossing her arms over the bar counter whilst staring forward, looking through the window between the serving tabletop and the kitchen without a soul to see other than the building’s owner herself.

“Exactly how far away are we from that in your well-informed opinion?” Emilio wonders aloud, tipping his head back to take a swig of the beverage he doesn’t much care for, but greatly needs in light of the prior day he’d lived through. “Luckily, neither side of the aisle has explosive to drop” Courtney replies, a brow immediately lifting over her right eye, “to detonate however? I’m not so sure about that one.”

Grimacing at the taste he’d only usually likened to cold piss, Emilio passes the drink back to its rightful owner as Juliet steps through the kitchen doors, quickly pouring him a glass of water and flashing a smile. “Thank you” he remarks, watching the woman return him a thumbs up before heading back into the kitchen, swamped with orders as one of the few places of business still open amidst the rioting of the night prior.

“How can we be so sure that’s not the next stage of Charlotte’s plan?” Emilio inquires, genuinely curious to the various possibilities that the chancellor has at her disposal. “Because Charlotte has no plan” Courtney confesses, not paying much mind to what she does or doesn’t say, wrapping her hands around the cold glass of her bottle, though holding off on drinking from it for the moment, “she’s got no clue what Gamble’s planning. Honestly, I’m not even sure she thinks he’s still alive.”

“He shouldn’t be” Emilio replies, shaking his head as takes a hold of the cup sat before him, “I know it’s not a massive drop to the water, but that thing was still made of enough concrete to pretty much seal the deal.” Nodding to herself, the reaction of agreement fails to match the presentation of uncertainty that the paramotorist replies with, “you’d have to think. Even with that said, I’m holding off any suspicions until we find a body washed up on the coastline.”

With the shrug meant to be taken as something akin to ‘suit yourself’, Emilio lifts the glass to his lips and lets the cold water soothe his throat, head bowing as he fails to come up with any response worth continuing the discourse over. “I knew you’d show up here eventually” Courtney mutters, staring at her bottle as her friend’s eyes take toward her, “I figured you’d need me to try and find a way to get the brother and sister back home.”

For a moment, Emilio’s eyes wander off to one of the tavern’s corners, unsure of what to say at first before bowing his head, a reaction that his friend takes notice of rather swiftly. “What’s wrong?” Courtney asks, a suddenly serious tone taken to her voice as she watches the man sit with his thoughts, preparing to take another sip of his water before answering the question prior to it, “Salem left last night.”

Distancing themselves by taking back to her drink, Courtney’s eyes wrap around the label-less glass bottle as she sits with the information, quietly contemplating what to say. “I’m sorry, Em’. I know she meant a lot to you and your group” the woman settles for, looking at the side of Emilio’s face, his eyes having taken to the wall sitting well beyond the counter they occupy, “for what it’s worth, she’ll be able to handle herself wherever she ends up. She’s one tough son of a bitch.”

“The point is that she left because of Charlotte” Emilio calmly rebukes, hands wrapping even more tightly around the cup, “because Charlotte decided that she- for whatever reason she’s deciding to go with- just had to go and start shit with Gamble.” This time with more options to choose from, Courtney looks away yet again and begins processing a reply, unable to offer one before her friend resumes speaking.

“I wanna know if she needed to. I understand that tensions were already high, but I want to know if she needed to start shit with Gamble” Emilio proclaims, watching his business partner turn to look at him as he talks, “at some point, was there an off ramp that she could’ve taken that would’ve avoided all of this or were the two sides always destined to collide with each other?”

“She always had an option” Courtney quickly reassures, falling quiet again as her friend follows up. “Then why didn’t she take it? If she doesn’t want to tell me, that’s fine and I get it. We’ve literally spent every waking moment since hell froze over on opposite sides of the aisle, but you?” Emilio questions aloud, swaying his head as if struggling to see any reason his friend wouldn’t know more, “but if she’d always had an option, why was this one the thing she chose?”

“I don’t know” Courtney swiftly answers, shaking her head in refusal as an apologetic shift takes to her face. “Oh come on, there just can’t be a way that this is just something she needed to keep under lock and key” Emilio replies in disbelief, looking back to the deepest reaches of the tavern’s layout, “there’s got to be a reason. Clint and Nessie are stranded on an island and they’re not picking up their phones, Salem left in the middle of the night, and that can’t be for no reason.”

“That’s just who Charlotte is as a person” Courtney replies, still shaking her head remorsefully as the man looks back to her, holding out hope for a better explanation, “she’ll tell you one thing, but she’ll do something that makes it seem like her intentions were always something entirely different. I don’t- I- I don’t really know what to tell you, Em’... I’m sorry.”

Struggling to catch his breath as his chest begins to weigh heavy, Emilio passes the woman a dismissive wave and turns away from the counter, yanking at the collar of his shirt as he begins retreating for the building’s entrance. “Emilio, come back please” Courtney calls out, quickly hopping out of her seat to follow after the man, whose every gasp for air makes his jugular veins bulge.

With such great force behind each tug, Emilio’s shirt eventually begins to tear down the centre of his pecks, the hairs on his chest exposed to the early springtime air as he makes it through the building’s entrance, leaning against the brick facade its exterior is made of as his friend follows after him. “Hey, just calm down and breathe” Courtney pleads, resting her hand on the man’s shoulder as he keels over, hands pressing against his knees as he faces the ground.

“That’s what I’m trying to do, Courtney” Emilio responds, his hasty gasps slowly beginning to control themselves as a steady breeze rolls in, feeling like heaven across his skin that had begun to layer itself in sweat from the hyperventilating. With pause, the paramotorist waits for the man’s composure to find its way back to him, holding off on saying anything more in preference of being there to ensure his wits are regained.

For a minute, the pair remain within each other’s company without uttering a word, the consistent and easy breaths Emilio takes affording him the confidence to speak once more. “She needs to go, Courtney” the man confesses, lifting himself up and resting against the brick layout before looking to his friend, her eyes taking a slight confusion to his remark, “as long as she’s in charge of this place, the only thing she’s going to care about is getting that island back in her hands.”

Pulling her eyes away, Courtney takes to the chain of small retail shops across the street from their preferred tavern, stepping aside to grant a happily married couple passage into the establishment. “I’m not suggesting anything in specific, and I’m not asking you to do anything, but I am making it a point that she cannot be trusted to do the right thing” Emilio doubles down, reassuring the woman of his intentions, “she’ll sacrifice every last life here just for that big plot of rock and soil.”

“It sounds like you are suggesting something in specific” Courtney retorts, looking back at Emilio as if she’d just heard him insult a cripple, “I think you’re making that very clear.” With a nod in his head, the man of renewed air puts his disagreement aside to accept the woman’s discovery, one he isn’t much in favour of arguing against.

“Yeah, I’m suggesting that Charlotte needs to be taken out of the chair that calls the shots around here” Emilio responds, looking his business partner in the eyes as she stares at him with a blank expression. “I know she’s your friend and I understand that you’re supposed to report me for saying things like this, but you know all of this as well as I do” he continues to explain, “she’s going to get people killed, she’s going to ruin lives, and she’s going to tear this place apart for nothing.”

With persistent silence, Courtney stands like a statue, frozen with her face held toward that of her friend’s visage, her ears latching onto his words whilst the public passes by, trying to continue about their day as if the events of the previous one had never occurred.

“I- the rest of my group- we chose to leave Cumberland to come here because we believed that this would finally be a place where we could settle into. A place where the wars were over, and we could finally just breathe” Emilio confesses, “Alicia and Franklin have started a family, Jack and Lauren bought a house, Clint and Nessie got a place on the water... We’ve all made this place our home. And now, we’re thrust right back into the thick of things because Charlotte can’t stomach letting go.”

“What exactly do you suggest we do about that then?” Courtney rebukes, finally hearing all that she needs to in order to align herself with one stance or another, “‘cause if cold-blooded murder is on the table, I’ll let you know that I want nothing to do with that.”

“There may be times where I consider such a thing out of absolute rage, but never literally” Emilio reassures, shaking his head as he voices an exception, “if she straight up held a gun to the head of anyone I cared about, then yes- I’d kill the bitch. But only then.”

“I don’t condone killing her whatsoever, but I also know there’s no way she leaves that chair willingly” Courtney replies, allowing herself to open a convoluted mind to the possibility of replacing the chancellor, “so- other than murder- how exactly do you think it’d be possible to get her out of that chair?”

“A protest like the one we had last night ought to do some good for a start” Emilio replies, fully of sound mind now to speak with clarity, “I came through last night when I heard about the riots. Before you came out and saved Charlotte’s ass, I thought there was a good chance the public would oust her from power by the time the sun came up.”

“That clearly didn’t work, so what’s your next grand plan?” Courtney quickly replies, hastily attempting to move onto the next proposition before her friend’s behest thwarts the effort. “It didn’t work that time, but who’s to say that Charlotte doesn’t try to do something even further out of left field? Maybe she really tries her hand at something that doesn’t go over well?” Emilio wonders aloud, “what happens when they come back to her front doors and don’t leave?”

“There were armed guards outside the building last night. There were also a handful of guys hidden inside of the building to protect the employees” Courtney replies, shaking her head at the notion and dismissing it as naturally as it had been vocalised, “if she wanted to get rid of them, she doesn’t need to look hard to figure out how.”

“And opening fire at the protestors is the quickest way to get the public to turn against you” Emilio retorts, shaking his head vehemently at the suggestion, “the second that happened at the old New World Order, the place was already minutes away from being levelled.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you!” Courtney concedes, accidentally shouting at the man before regaining a hold of her collected tone, “there’s no getting Charlotte to step down. You were right about the island, she didn’t- and still doesn’t- need it for this place to stay alive. Yet here she is going after it again, and if you think she’s stubborn about this war- wait until you try to challenge her for that chair.”

With his head hung, Emilio ceases the proposals any further and resorts to nodding in agreement, accepting the woman’s position and turning to make for their open stools at the bar, only to turn back with a last second thought. “If you’re not willing to think about ways to get her out of power, that’s fine. Seriously, I’ll accept that and drop it entirely” he confesses, making himself clear, “but if you really care about her as a friend, you’d want to do anything you could to get her out.”

“And why is that?” Courtney questions back, crossing her arms as the man turns back, looking at her with one foot already crossing the building’s threshold. “Because for as much as I don’t like that woman, I’m willing to bet that there’s someone that hates her far more than I do” Emilio replies, pointing his finger at the ground as he proceeds to return to their seats, “and I may not be willing to kill the woman, but I’m also willing to bet that there will be someone else that would be.”

Aggravated and uncomfortable, Courtney remains stoic in her rigid display of confrontation in spite of the well-hidden concern that the man’s point leaves in her, a genuine argument made that she can’t quite refute.

|

“She said you died” Lauren remarks, sitting beside her husband on their loveseat whilst looking into the eyes of a woman very much alive in spite of what she’d been told, her once-lover seated on the chair across from them whilst Donnie and the male reinforcement occupy the couch in the middle.

“I don’t know why she would say that” Kelsey replies, shaking her head with uncertainty over the divulged information as she looks to the ground, hands folded in her lap. “Well if she didn’t kill you, what the hell happened?” Lauren responds, trying to make sense of the reconsolidation that should’ve been impossible, “the last I saw you was when you ran off out of the apartment. You ran around the corner after the dead swarmed the place and Tori and I leapt from the roof.”

“Yeah, I know. That was the last that I saw of you two” Kelsey replies, nodding along with the woman’s recollection of events, “I didn’t know you guys leapt from the roof though, so that’s new.”

“Well we did, so now tell me what the hell happened to you after that” Lauren replies, a slight irritation carried in her voice, one rooted within the perception that she’d potentially been deceived. “I’ve spent every day for almost the last five years thinking you used that one bullet on yourself” the wife explains, watching the apologetic expression hit Kelsey’s face like waves strike at a shoreline, “you never came back, and I never got an answer, and I’m asking you for one now.”

“I ran off” the female patrolman confesses quickly, looking the woman in the eyes with a deep sense of regret and sadness, staring at her once-partner with a great sympathy. “I never got to the tower. I ducked into an alleyway closeby, lit the fuse and tossed it over to where I’m guessing you found it” the woman explains, sorrowfully retelling the tale to her recollection of events.

\ March, Four Years Ago /

“Kelsey, where are you!?” Lauren exclaims again, giving no care to the undead. Pushed into a panicked decision, Tori dies out the flare’s flame in the snow, wrapping her hand around the base of the object as she walks after Lauren. 

“Kels-!” Lauren calls out again, her words hushed the moment her body spins, pulled around by Tori’s grasp. Attempting to speak, Lauren watches Tori lunge at her with the weighted signal flare, every sight of the cold, March night turning to a black nothingness. With a thud, Tori lays into Lauren’s face with the flare, knocking the woman unconscious, every desperate call for Kelsey’s return stopped in an instant.

Saving her skin for the moment, Tori tumbles back into the snow, her left side aching from the fall, a new situation having emerged. Hesitant to waste any more time, Tori fights through the pain to pick Lauren up, the unconscious woman draped over Tori’s shoulders. Blazing a path through the snow, Tori grimaces with each extra-weighted step, carrying Lauren over her shoulders out of defiance, refusing to lose anyone else by the time the morning arrives.

Within an alleyway only two shoulder-lengths apart, Kelsey watches the faintest sight of a woman fireman-carrying a lady through the heavy snow, tempted to speak, but not enough to convince herself to reveal the nook she’d hidden in. Instead, the woman covers her mouth and ducks low to the ground, avoiding even the slightest movement until the view of both women can be obstructed by the tall residential building to her right-most side.

Though she sheds a tear, Kelsey carries on through the thick snow, melting a path for herself onward and away from the sights of the undead. Eventually spilling out onto the main road, the woman meets open space free from most of the undead, those that still linger being far too slow to close the distance between herself and the road onward.

\ Present Day, April 2023 /

“I don’t even have any reasonable explanation to offer you” Kelsey confesses, shaking her head in the woman’s direction as a tear begins to roll down the same side of her face as it had four years prior, “I just woke up some nights prior and realised that I just wanted to leave. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It was in that moment, when I’d managed to get somewhere secluded and where no one was watching, that I just figured it was then or never, and so- I took it.”

With a steady face, Lauren watches the person she’d once cared deeply for with an incredibly different heart than the one that she used to have, a sympathy that had once existed now somewhere far lost on her. “That’s it?” the wife wonders back, almost looking at the woman with a flimsy malice, like she’d been wronged by a person she’d never imagined would do such act against her, “I live all these years thinking I never got to say goodbye to someone I cared about just ‘cause they fucked off?”

“Like I said, I don’t have a good rea-” Kelsey begins to reply, falling silent when the woman that asks such a question cuts her off, a finger directed at the entrance to the home she shares with her husband. “Get out” Lauren orders, watching her ex girlfriend’s lips close and head tilt further to one side than the other before reiterating, “get out of our house and don’t ever speak to me again.”

“There hasn’t been a day where I didn’t regret it” Kelsey assures, an olive branch that isn’t only refused, but snapped from the rest of the tree entirely. “If I need to tell you to get out again, I’ll make Donnie wish he wasn’t joking about taking our guns earlier” Lauren replies, steady in her place as she steps off of the couch and unholsters her pistol, letting it hang by her side as she confronts the woman, “you’re on private property, and the compound’s laws give me the right to shoot.”

“Yes, within reason!” Donnie corrects, anxiously stepping off of the sofa as the pair that had followed him to the home follow suit. “I’m demanding your leaving of my property and that is all the reason that I need” Lauren responds, her husband soon follow his wife’s lead in brandishing his own weapon, keeping it aimed at the ground as Kelsey begrudgingly puts her hands up, surrendering to the woman’s will and showing herself to the front door.

After a few seconds, the trio make their full departure before listening to the weighted front door slam shut behind themselves, ushering all the emotion that the married couple could wish to display. “Fuck her” Lauren angrily grumbles, locking the deadbolt before stepping past her husband, climbing the stairs and making for the corridor Jack had yet to fully descend through before their visitors had arrived.

|

“It looks like we weren’t the only people that had this idea” Katie mutters aloud, watching the gate open to grant herself and her colleague access to the parking lot of a large, scarcely-used office building, most, if not all spots being occupied by an assortment of different vehicles. “Well we’re the only kinds of people that know this place even exists for this purpose, so I’d hope at least a few people would’ve thought to come here” Harvey replies, “this many not so much.”

“Why would they all need to be here?” Katie inquires, looking around the asphalt-covered lot in search of soul, but no one driver appears to occupy the space for themselves, “don’t they have homes or families to get to?”

“Of course they do, so to answer your question- I’m not so sure” Harvey responds, pulling into the first open space he can find before exiting the vehicle, joining alongside his potential love interest in venturing toward the office’s lobby.

Though its use is as a decoy for government officials, the office upon arrival appears as no different from any other, littered with high and low-ranking staff alike speaking to each other as if the building were one they often frequented. Chatting with colleagues and going about their days, the various strangers that the entering couple call co-workers in industry-affiliation only occupy the office well into the evening hours, each waiting for the same thing as the other.

“Isn’t this place stocked with stuff like bedrooms and showers and stuff?” Katie wonders aloud, joining her crush as they walk through the various hallways, passing a few unisex bathrooms on their way to larger areas. “Yeah, there’s a communal hall adjacent near the rear elevators. You step through a door and it’s like you’re in a small hotel” Harvey answers, clearly preoccupied with other interests, passing a few glances at those whom their travels take them past before finding a familiar face.

“Joey, right?” the well-dressed former lawyer inquires, holding his hand out to the chest of a man he could’ve sworn to have seen before. “Uh, no... Kendrick” the taller black man replies, visibly confused at the man responsible for stopping him, “can I help you with something?” 

Snapping his fingers with the most-feigned ‘aw shucks’ reaction he can manage, Harvey apologises for the mixup. “I could’ve sworn we’d met before, I’m sorry. I must’ve mixed you up for another guy named Joey, that’s on me” the man confesses, passing a glance at the well-populated halls they travel in different directions of, “that’s beside the point, though... Have my partner and I missed something? I thought this building was normally used as a decoy office?”

“Have you not seen what’s going on out there?” Kendrick responds, a passive smirk carried as his face ventures toward the general direction of the building’s exit, “the people have lost their minds and the guys in charge are scrambling downtown. They’ve got an address from leadership scheduled for eight.”

“For eight!?” Katie quickly questions aloud, checking the watch on her left wrist, “but that’s in seven minutes!” Shaking his head with a loss for reply, Kendrick confesses his inability to offer anything more concrete, “that’s all I know, man. Just tune in like the rest of us, I guess” he concludes before leaving.

With little more information than what he’d entered with, Harvey discretely flips the passing official his middle finger, carrying on with their original stroll as if the interaction never took place. “Did you actually know that guy from somewhere?” Katie questions, taking too much intrigue into the approach her more experienced colleague had spoken with not to salivate over the potential for its abrupt nature.

“Of course not! After the first three people didn’t stand out, I just decided to wing it” Harvey replies, smirking to the woman as he rolls up the sleeves to his dress shirt, “I must admit though- he did look like a Kendrick. I should’ve seen it coming.”

After a few minutes, the couple make their way to a large conference room almost entirely stuffed with people of various different attires, their eyes collectively taking to the new arrivals for a moment before returning to their collective attention at the large radio near the front of the room. “Anyone know something we don’t?” Harvey questions aloud, staring into the crowd and speaking with confidence that none of inhabitants respond to with their own.

One after another, those awaiting the scheduled address shake their head in refusal before trying once more to return for their original intentions. “Let’s just sit down” Katie remarks, taking her colleague by the hand and leading him to a pair of open seats near the side of the room, joining those that they’re surrounded by in staring forward with patience.

For another few seconds, the pair inspect those sitting around the room before their ears take to the shifting sound of static from the radio, its momentary outburst succeeded by a calm and still airway, one that sits clear and unobstructed. “To the people of Prince Edward Island, we’d like to thank you for listening in. We’ve heard your concerns and have seen your displays” a feminine voice remarks, speaking calmly to a nation of unrest and in turmoil.

“Allow us to take a moment to address the nation.”

== Rise ==