Post by MSS Productions on Jul 10, 2020 0:59:24 GMT
The sound of a hustling and bustling street broke the silence as the episode opened. The sounds of horns hocking, cars running by and people all shouting at one another filled the speakers as the scene opened into the inside of a mechanics shop. Two large doors stood open revealing a busy intersection on the other side. People milled back and forth minding their own business, paying no mind to the shop that stood only a few feet from them.
MSS Productions presents…
“Freebird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd played on an old timey radio sitting on the shelf nestled between large car parts. The camera turns to the right, taking in the office door of the garage, the various shelves with car parts, and the two large workbenches where the majority of the work not done in the actual vehicles themselves was done.
Just past the benches, a door sat open with a man inside sitting behind a desk. He was a middle aged man with tan skin and blonde hair wearing a dirty, grease-covered pair of jeans, black boots and a grease smeared top. He was working on the computer filing some type of form or another.
The shot turned around a full half circle to find two cars sitting on the lifts, one down and the other up. The car on the ground was an old Ford pickup truck with a new model Toyota sedan raised up on the other lift beside it.
Another man was working beneath the front of the sedan. All that could be seen was the dirty brown shirt and jeans as part of him was hidden from view, as the sound of a socket wrench working from somewhere close.
The shot shifted back to the man in the office clicking away at the keyboard, eyes focused intently on the screen as a hand appeared in the frame and knocked on the open door of the office. He looked up in time to see the same hand reappear, this time holding a large paper bag.
Female Voice: “Special delivery.”
When he heard the voice the man’s whole face lit up and he came up out of the chair. A young woman came around the corner with a big smile on her face. She wouldn’t have been more than sixteen with her hair up in a single ponytail wearing a school uniform.
Man: “Gwen! What are you doing here?”
The girl held out the bag and dropped it on the desk with a heavy thud of filled plastic.
Gwen: “You know how mom gets when you and Nolan skip breakfast, Dad.”
Gwen’s father: “We had a couple of orders we needed to finish before we opened today.”
Gwen: “And here I am having to drop this off on the way to school.”
Gwen made it sound like it was a chore, as if it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do but the smile on her face said differently. Any excuse to see her daddy and spend time with him was a win as far as she was concerned and it showed.
Gwen: “Is Nolan the one under the hood?”
Gwen's Dad: “Nah, that’s just ol Scooter. Your brother is bringing Mr. Mason his car.”
Gwen: “Is that old idiot still bringing that thing in for a tune up every month and making ya’ll drive it back?”
Gwen's Dad: “Yup. Like clockwork.”
Her father let out a happy laugh and reached out, wrapping his arms around her. As he hugged his only daughter, a loud bang sounded off the door behind the pair. He rolled his eyes and turned to look at the closed door on the other side of the main lobby.
Gwen's Dad: “We’re not open for drops for another half an hour.”
Whoever was on the other side banged hard on the door once and then again, the second time with such force the glass door cracked. The cracking window was enough to make Gwen’s father release her and walk through the door leading out to the lobby open.
Gwen's Dad: “We’re not open yet!”
Again the figure hammered a fist into the door and the crack widened. Behind him a single frightened scream sounded. The first became a second, and then a third. He turned looking behind him at his daughter in the office. She was looking back toward the garage. Another bang brought his attention back to the door.
Gwen's Dad: “God dammit we’re not….”
Mid sentence another bang came, this time the glass shattered and a figure staggered through the door. It was a woman of Gwen's age wearing a date night dress with a open gash across her face and a tear down the center of the dress. As if she had been in a car accident on her way to a date. Before he could so much as react she pounced on him, the bar of a stop sign in her hand and drove the jagged end downward into his chest shooting blood in all directions.
Gwen screamed in horror and brought her hands to her mouth. Before she could vocalize her agony at the sight of her father being killed another shouted scream brought her head around and she saw two men in hospital clothing taking Scooter down from beneath the sedan where he worked. Blood shot across the car's white exterior. The girl's shriek from behind brought her head back around and she managed to get the door closed just as she jumped the counter. The woman on the other side of the now closed door began to bang hard on the door bringing the attention of the other two. Each of them looked up from Scooter's body, half of their faces completely melted as if from a fire and Gwen screamed again. She backed toward the door, each hit from the shrieking woman on the other side rattled her forward but all she could do was cower. Fear and confusion in her eyes as the two closed in on her.
Gwen: “Plea…”
The two jumped for her, only to be driven to the side at the last moment. Each of them hit the door and crashed to the ground with a hulking blonde man standing over them. He towered near the top of the door frame with shoulder length blonde hair and the beginnings of a beard.
Jackson Mawl.
He brought the curved end of a crowbar down on the half melted faces over and over again. Each strike brought a grunt of exertion. He didn't stop until the men had stopped moving. She looked up into his face, the splatter of blood marring his blonde beard as he held out his hand to her.
Man: “Come on.”
Gwen: “Jax...what….”
Jackson: “Gwen, we gotta go! Now!”
She took his hand and the scene faded out as he led her from the garage and into the street where a motorcycle was waiting. People were running everywhere, being chased by the dead. Cars were crashed into posts, walls, and buildings, and fires were beginning to burn. The scene faded into the title shot of "Afterlife" as the motorcycle roared to life and the bike speed off away from the burning city.
Afterlife
Episode 4
“General”
Bethany Kenyon as Abigail Ryder
Lilith Meadows as Madison Chaney
Dean Matthews as Jackson Mawl
Samantha Hamilton as Jema Delacroix
Nathaniel Cartwright as Miles Wright
Jansen Mrryh as Gwen O’Neal
And
Introducing
Sela Rica-Lark
Sela Rica-Lark
The scene opened to a close up of a rusted out M939 Military truck. Half the wooden slats making up the sides of the truck’s storage area were broken and the rusted hood stood up. A person was leaned over the hood, a pair of jeans and sneakers would be seen and a little bit of a feminine spine with a black shirt above it.
The girl was humming happily to herself, a sound matched only by the sound of the wrench and other tools the girl was using. Her hips swaying happily as she danced in place. Behind her the door of the storage office that Jackson Mawl used as a home opened and the big burly bearded man appeared in all his glory wearing a plaid t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
He made his way to the truck, pausing every now and them to have brief discussions with one person or another as the girl under the truck kept dancing happily in place as she worked and the distant sound of music drifted up from under the hood.
Jackson made his way over to the truck and when he stood behind the figure for a time without getting her attention, he tapped his fist off the truck’s fender. The figure came up so hard the back of her head connected with the underside of the hood. The woman from the opening emerged from under the hood holding her hand to the back of the head and cursing. She was older, but it was definitely her.
Gwen: “God dammit! I told you not to do that!”
At her words the big blonde reached up and gently smacked her upside the head causing one of the two earbuds in her ears to fall out as her head lurched forward.
Jackson: “Language, Gwendolyn.”
Gwen turned a shade of purple that was almost adorable and sheepishly smiled up at him.
Gwen: “Sorry, Jax….”
Jackson: “Better. Now, how are you coming along?”
Gwen plucked the other earbud from her ear and motioned with her wrench in her hand to the parking area of vehicles. The parking area was filled with junkers, most of them without a door or wheel here and there but sitting among the junkyard of misfit vehicles was a perfectly restored jeep and muscle car, though the paint job of each was horrid.
Gwen: “The jeep purrs, Jax. The flexer can be a bit touchy but if you need to get somewhere fast and burst through something, that’s your boy.”
Jackson: “And the 939?”
Gwen slapped her hand off the fender of the truck she had been working under and flashed that warm happy girlish smile again.
Gwen: “She’s ready to go. I was putting on the finishing touches when you decided to try and give me a concussion.”
Jackson: “Good, now go and get changed. You’re gonna get your wish.”
Gwen turned her confused gaze to Jackson but it quickly turned to excitement as her eyes slowly widened and she let out a happy squeal and began to jump up and down, taking him by the hands as she did.
Gwen: “Are you serious?!”
Jackson: “We’d usually wait for a Scav to roll through but with Abigail, Madison and Miles all on runs up in the mountain and no other Scavs around? We should move before the Poachers get to it.”
Gwen squealed happily again and jumped up, wrapping her arms around the big man with a huge hug. He smiled back, returning the hug and watched her not just run back toward the storage facility, but sprint. By the look in his eyes and the smile on his lips, her adorableness was not lost on him.
Jackson climbed up onto the stand bar of the drivers side of the truck and raised a hand making a helicopter motion with it. Jema was standing off near the gate and approached with two large men, each carrying makeshift spears and the three of them climbed into the back of the large military transport as Jackson sat behind the wheel.
The group sat in the transport until Gwen reappeared, changed into a pair of military fatigues with tears on the knees and near where the pocket would be, and a black t-shirt. Her hair was pulled up into a pair of pigtails and she was absolutely glowing as she bounced her way to the truck and slid into the passenger seat with Jackson, setting an axe made of a shaped hubcap on her lap.
Two brown hair middle aged men dressed in all black pulled the reinforced gate to the facility open and the truck rolled out. The shot followed the truck as it turned the opposite direction the scavs and their heads had headed, going instead into the outskirts of the city. As it watched the truck begin to disappear into the distance Gwen’s voice could be heard.
Gwen: “Why’d you change your mind, Jax?”
The camera shifts to inside the cab of the truck and the two people sitting inside. Gwen was running her thumb over the edge of the axe unsurely.
Gwen: “You always say I’m not ready...what made you change your mind?”
Jackson held his hands on the wheel but glanced over at the woman sitting beside him and let out a deep unhappy sigh.
Jackson: “There’s a semi truck blocking somewhere we need to go to scavenge. No one can move it or get the engine to turn over.”
Gwen: “You brought me out here to fix a damn truck?!”
Gwen’s head snapped to the side and she locked her incensed eyes on the man driving.
Gwen: “Dammit, Jax, I thought you were finally starting to relax your grip!”
The big blonde bearded man let out a sigh and shook his head.
Jackson: “Gwendolyn...you know why. I made a promise….”
Gwen: “To my brother….yeah….you’ve said it before.”
Gwen sat back and crossed her arms over her chest sitting in silence as they rode through the streets. As the truck rode deeper into the city the streets became more and more choked off by abandoned cars left sitting at odd angles in the road. It wasn’t long before they had to stop completely and the five of them climbed from the truck.
Jackson and one of the two men Jema brought with her walked out in front, their heads on swivels with Gwen behind them and Jema with the other men pulling up the rear. They weren’t walking long before they came to a semi truck that had been abandoned on the sidewalk. The trailer it was pulling had long since been pillaged by one group or another and it sat blocking the doors and windows of one of the stores on the strip. Gwen looked up and the camera followed her up to the sign “Larry’s hardware and home improvement.” on a sign just barely above the sign.
The look on her face said she knew now why Jackson had been willing to risk her safely to get the truck moved. The store inside would be completely untouched and go a long way to making the lives of their settlement better. She moved her arm to the side, driving the flat end of the makeshift axe into Jackson’s chest without a word.
Jackson took the axe in his left hand and watched Gwen climb into the cab of the truck. She struggled, grunting for a moment before with a click the hood came unlatched and she dropped to the ground.
Jackson turned to look back at Jema and the two men as Gwen pushed the hood up.
Jackson: "Keep your eyes open while she works to get this going. Any movement, announce it. Poacher, Feral, it doesn’t matter.”
**
The scene shifts to a shot of rocks, stark white and shining with the faint glow of the afternoon sun.
And stained with blood.
The sound of panting could be heard just over the sound of gravel crunching and small bits of rock sliding as feet slid across them. As the camera watched a corner on the ground level of the mountain two figures came around it at a sprint, each of them panting hard with a bladed weapon in their hand.
Madison and Abigail appeared, their eyes narrowed in focus. The camera shifts to another shot of the stark white rock and the sound of gravel rustling. The sound of sprinting feet beating the rock and the growl of something inhuman broke the afternoon silence.
The camera shifts back and forth between the two perspectives, each time the women are shown a different shot of them appears. One of their weapons, each in various stages of blood drying on them. Another of their faces, scratched and covered in sweat and yet another of one of their sides, stained red with the blood of a wound.
It always came back to the growling sound of something running behind the pair just outside the shot.
When the shot finally stabilized it was on Abigail leaning to the side on a rock breathing hard and holding a hand to her side, the red fluid that made her life possible running through her fingers. Madison appeared to be nowhere, as though Abigail had finally just told her to run when she could no longer push herself due to the wound.
Behind her through a gap in the rocks came a second figure. It had once been a middle aged man in a gas station attendant uniform, but half his face was completely gone, burnt to the bone and half the suit was singed black. The figure was carrying a long piece of wood, broken at the midway point into a point that was dripping with blood.
It let out a shrieking scream and darted for Abigail, the bones of its half exposed jaw chattering as it closed the distance with amazing speed. It passed the first rock, now no more than ten feet from Abigail when a long steel blade of a sword-like object came out of the blind spot. The edge of the blade caught the Feral in the knees, cutting them from its body. It hit the ground without so much as an outcry of pain. It clawed its free hand with another screaming shriek, empty soulless eyes staring up at Abigail when Madison came out from behind the rock, blood running down the side of her face from where she had busted a quick stitch near the hairline wiggling between the stones. She grabbed the Feral by the half head of hair and brought its head up as she drove the blade down into its neck.
The creature hit the rock still and Madison fell to a knee panting, blood dripping onto the rock beneath her as she did. The next thing she knew hands were on her and she let out a startled outcry until she saw it was Abigail.
Abigail: “You tore your stitches again. I told you that you would if you did that.”
Madison: “It was gaining on us Abbi! And you’re hurt!”
Abigail: “I’ve been hurt worse….”
Madison let the comment hang in the air as Abigail pushed her head back and eyed the wound. Madison sat there silently while her best friend pulled the string tight pushing the wound closed again, wincing as she did. Once she was finished Abigail pushed herself back to her feet, pressing a hand to her side and started off again along the rock edge.
Each time Madison would try and slip up behind her and get an eye or hand on the wound in her side Abigail would smack the hand away or change sides so she could no longer see it, but Madison was good at her job. Or, what had once been her job. She could gauge from the fact she could move without wincing too much there was no damage to the stomach muscle wall, which meant the wound did not breach too deeply. She knew Abigail would be fine if they could just find a safe place to stop.
The shot continued to shift between the pair and the rocks around them, changing repeatedly as they moved until Abigail finally stopped. She paused leaning to the side on one of the smaller rocks with the mountain rising up in the air behind her revealing how far they had moved since they came out of the caverns. Quite a few miles by the distance of the peak rising over the horizon.
Abigail: “You know what’s strange.”
She asked her friend, wiping the back of a hand across her sweat covered forehead. The blood on the hand had all but dried showing the wounds bleeding had all but stopped. Madison appeared behind her, slipping through another gap in the rocks and leaned on the stone beside her friend.
Madison: “That you can sweat like a stuck pig and still look like that?”
Abigail: “It’s a gift.”
The woman answered with a flash of a grin but shook her head.
Abigail: “Almost a day and a half now these Ferals are showing up like clockwork, Maddy. Every three hours. That seem odd to you?”
Madison: “It actually hurts my soul that I have to say that being hunted by the undead is…not…odd to me anymore. You act like we’ve never been hunted before Abigail.”
Abigail: “Where’s the group?”
Madison looked behind her with the camera shifting to show the empty rock behind them now nearly as far as the eye could see and the road two hundred yards further down the rock. She looked back at Abigail with the camera going with her and found Abigail watching her with a lifted brow.
Abigail: “These Ferals have to be breaking off from a larger group. You know they usually run in packs of four or five. Why are these ones alone? Where is the larger group?”
Madison again looked behind her and then back to Abigail, her eyes darting back and forth across the woman’s face as she thought.
Madison: “That…is…odd.”
Abigail: “I got an odder one for you. If they aren’t part of a group….what are they doing? Nothing could have seen us from above or below. We’d have seen it on the street and it couldn’t have seen us from the cliffs. Which means it came from the way we came.”
Madison looked down at Abigail’s side and then touched her own forehead.
Madison: “Tracking the blood you think?”
Abigail: “They’ve never done that before.”
Madison: “They’ve never tracked people before either.”
Abigail: “I don’t think they're tracking either.”
Abigail pushed herself off the rock, grunting as her side shifted.
Abigail: “I think they’re herding.”
Madison: “Herding? Like...toward…something?”
Abigail just looked back at Madison and left that hanging in the air. That had never planned before. The sheer mindlessness of the Ferals was the only advantage the few people left in the world had and if they were starting?
Abigail: “....We need to get around this range and find Miles.”
**
The shot shifts back to the city outside the Jackson Mawl’s settlement. Gwen was bent over the engine of the semi standing on the driver’s side front tire. Jackson was leaning on the door of the cab with her axe held loosely in his hand. Jema and the two men with her were stationed at various positions around them all looking around.
Gwen worked, the sound of the tools and occasional ratchet turning could be heard but other than that it was quiet. Every time something moved, or trash rolled down the street in the wind, all eyes turned and hands tightened on weapons.
And then movement was caught in the camera. It was a single Feral passing between buildings on the far side of the street across from the group. The first was followed by a second and a third, sprinting at full speed and heading further away from the city. Jackson pushed himself off the truck and his hand tightened on the trip of the ax as his eyes scanned the shadows of the buildings across from them.
Jackson: “Jem.”
Jema: “I saw um…”
Jema answered and the sound of a round being chambered into a shotgun was heard. Jema appeared into the frame with the shotgun raised to her shoulder staring down the barrel. Another passed by and another, the sound of their shrieks echoing off the buildings.
Unidentified man 1: “What are they doing?”
Unidentified man 2: “...Chasing someone?”
At that moment a single shot rang out from off to the groups left. Jackson tensed to run and Jema landed her hand on his forearm.
Jema: “It’s not our problem Jax. We need to get into this store.”
Jackson looked down at the hand on his forearm and then up at her face.
Jackson: “There aren’t enough of us left to leave someone out here.”
Jema: “Jax….”
Jema’s tone said she knew there was very little chance to talk him out of this. She knew how he felt about trying to protect people from the Ferals. Another shot rang out and the screams of the Ferals echoed off the buildings. Jackson looked back at Jema and took off sprinting in the direction of the shot. One of the two men followed behind him and Jema turned her eyes to the other as she started after the two.
Jema: “Stay with Gwen! Keep them off her while she finishes up!”
Unidentified man 2: “Ma’am!”
The camera followed behind Jema as she ran fifteen feet behind the two men. Jackson, ahead of her and in the lead, hit a barrier of cardboard, wood and trash stacked between the buildings full force. The debris exploded into a shower of trash and splinters of wood as the huge man powered through it.
The alley opened into the edge of town where the river flowed south-east. The shot followed Jackson’s eyes to the left following the canal and found the Ferals standing along the canal edge. Two of them were lying dead. The two shots had taken them down from below in the water sending them back into the walkway.
The remaining Ferals jumped from view, landing in the shallow water with a splash. The group ran forward to where the railing was broken and the two Ferals were lying on the ground and looked down into the bank of the canal. Four Ferals stood in the knee deep water, each of them holding a weapon of some kind and in the center of them was Miles Wright. He was battered, his clothing torn and soaking wet. He was barely able to stand and on a knee, the water running over his stomach.
Jackson hit the water with a splash sending a shower of water into the air. When one of the Ferals clawed at Miles he brought the ax up taking it in the shoulder socket. The creature turned without warning and let out a loud shriek, bringing the weapon in its other hand down at the blonde man. The weapon hit the water with a splash as Jackson moved, shoving another one into one of it’s brothers, sending them down into the water.
Jackson let out a yell of pain as the Feral behind him slashed a piece of jagged metal across his back. He spun around, turning his back on the one armed Feral that raised its steel club for a kill blow only for its entire head to explode as the blast of a shotgun rang out.
Jema landed in the water with a splash beside Jackson who didn’t even look at her as he dodged behind the two creatures that were rising from the water and took their legs off at the knees with the axe. Behind them a male scream rang out and they looked up in time to see the man who had come with them driven to the ground by a pair of Ferals. They drove him into the ground from behind, bringing down jagged pieces of metal into him over and over, blood exploding into the air in a shower as they stabbed repeatedly.
A splash brought their eyes around again as from the other side of the canal another four Ferals dropped into the knee high water across from them. Jema slid herself under the half conscious Miles’s arm.
Jackson watched in horror as another two of the creatures appeared on the path on the other side of the canal sprinting in their direction from deeper into the city. That put the number at eight.
Jackson: “Where the hell are they coming from?!”
Jema: “We gotta go!”
Jackson: “We’ve never seen so many at once….”
Jema: “JACKSON!”
He turned his attention to Jema and found her now fully out of the water and stumbling up the stairs leading back to the path ahead of them were the pair of Ferals that had killed their companion. Water sloshed around him as Jackson hurried to catch them before the pair noticed them. When he reached them Jema tossed the shotgun to the blonde man beside her. He shouldered the ax using the strap Gwen had attached to it and racked in a shell.
Jackson: “How many?!”
Jema: “Four? Maybe five.”
Jackson raised the weapon and it exploded into a burst of fire, taking one of the two creatures in the face, it’s entire head disappearing in a burst of pink mist. The other shot up and came at him but Jackson drove a boot into its chest sending it over the edge of the canal where it landed in the water with a splash.
Jema: “JAX!”
Jema was looking at the water and he turned his own gaze to follow. The other six Ferals were nearly halfway through the water, staring up at them with intense, focused stares. Or more, at Miles.
Jackson: “Give me him!”
Jackson tossed her back the shotgun and took the nearly unconscious man from her. The mammoth blonde man threw Miles over his shoulder and held him tight by the thighs. Together the two sprinted back the way they had come. When they cleared the alley Gwen was still working under the hood but the man guarding her saw the pair coming and his eyes went wide.
He crossed the plaza to where the pair was taking a breather but before he could get a word out a Feral hit him in full speed sending him back into the wall of a grocery store. Inside the window the shelves could be seen picked clean as the man struggled with the creature near the half blocked door.
Jema turned and raised the shotgun to get the creature off him when another soaking wet Feral hit her full force. The shotgun was thrown from her grasp and bouncing across the ground. The force of the impact spun her around and into Jackson who went down with Miles in a tangle of limbs.
Jackson tried to free himself from Wright, knowing they only had moments before the other six were on them. As he struggled he heard Jema let out a pain-filled scream. Beside him Jema was lying on her stomach, trying to get the thing off her as it clawed into her back and shoulders with its bare hands. Behind her the man against the wall was on the ground, the jagged end of glass being driven into his now bloody face over and over again.
Jackson felt the dread fill him until he heard the blast of a shotgun. The Feral was thrown off Jema, half its upper body missing from the blast. He looked up and found Gwen standing between him and Jema, her arms shaking and her eyes wide with terror.
Finally able to untangle himself from Miles Jackson lifted the man again as Jema pushed herself to her feet and snatched the gun from Gwen’s hands.
Jema: “Go!”
Gwen: “What about Johnny and Deuce?”
Jema: “They're dead! Go!”
Gwen: “We can’t just leave them!”
Jema: “GWEN, RUN!”
Jema shoved Gwen around and toward the truck and the two ran back for it just as the other six Ferals came into view in the alley. All of them holding weapons of broken steel and sprinting full speed after them, all shrieking in rage-filled hate.
Gwen threw herself into the driver's seat of the truck and closed the door just as a Feral slammed into it. It screamed in rage and began to beat the hand holding the small knife like piece of metal off the thick glass window. Jackson dumped the unconscious Miles into the bed and jumped up into it himself as he heard the engine of the truck roar to life.
Jema was climbing up, one hand holding the shotgun and the other pressed to her shoulder and neck that was bleeding profusely. The jolt of the truck starting off sent her back and she began to fall backwards into the waiting arms of three Ferals that were running at the bed of the truck hard as it pulled away. Jackson caught her by the wrist and pulled her into the bed. She fell to the hard metal beside him as a Feral hit the bumper where she had just been standing and bounced off.
The Ferals gave chase, falling further and further behind, following each time the truck turned until it was so far ahead that when it turned they lost sight of it. Then and only then did Gwen angle them toward the settlement. She knew better than to lead a pack of Ferals back to the settlement.
In the bed of the truck Jackson had ripped off the arm of his shirt and had it pressed to the shoulder and neck of the blonde woman lying in front of him. She was awake and breathing and when he pulled the makeshift bandage off he saw how lucky she had been.
Jackson: “Another inch up and it would have hit your carotid.”
Jema: “Doesn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch….”
Jackson: “We’ve got something for the pain back home.”
Miles: “Ugh….”
They both turned their attention to the man lying in the bed near the cab. Miles shook his head wearily but as soon as his mind cleared his hand went right to his hip where the compact bow was attached and pulled it. With a hard shove of his wrist the bow extended in one hand and the other grabbed one of the arrows from the quiver on his other thigh. Both Jackson and Jema raised their hands to show him they weren’t a threat.
Jackson: “Whoa! Miles, it’s us!”
Miles looked at the pair confused, his eyes a bit unfocused with the wet hair sticking to his forearm.
Miles: “...Jax? Jema?”
Jema: ‘It’s us….you’re safe.”
Miles: “Where am I….?”
He asked weakly and his hands dropped to the metal bed of the truck, the bow sliding out of his fingers with a metallic clatter.
Miles: “The last thing I remember I was trying to get the hell out of the water in the canal and the Ferals were closing in….”
Miles suddenly sat bolt up and for the first time since they had found him his eyes were intent and focused.
Miles: “We need to go back to the mountain.”
Jackson held out his opened hands while he and Jema inched closer to him.
Jackson: “Whoa, slow down Miles.”
Miles: “They’re in danger!”
Jema: “Who?”
Jema’s voice was gentle, as if speaking to an animal that may spook or a scared child.
Miles: “Abigail and Madison!”
Jackson: “Slow down, Brother.”
The big man finished his approach and sat in a kneel beside Miles with Jema seated on her hip beside him. Miles looked up into the face of the bearded man with a look that Jackson had never seen before.
Fear.
Miles: “We need to go, Jax. Now.”
Jackson: “What the hell happened up there?”
Miles drew in a deep breath and leaned his head back on the cab as the truck rumbled through the city, taking the long way around back to the settlement to ensure the Ferals didn’t follow them.
Miles: “....The three of us headed up the mountain together. When we got to the fork we separated to take care of our separate assignments…..”
**
The shot shifts back to the mountain and a shot of the three separating on the fork with the girls heading further into one of the cliffs while Miles angled to head further up the mountain. Miles smirk is shown, showing he enjoyed playing that little game with Abigail. The little moments of human rivalry was something he had come to enjoy immensely.
Miles: ‘It was all normal on the way up. Abigail and I had a little race up the mountain while Madison rode behind and laughed. When we got to the fork we parted ways and I headed further up the mountain to get the shit Vanessa needed. It wasn’t any different than any other ride, saw a couple of Ferals…”
As Mile’s voice spoke over the scene the bike came around a corner to reveal two Ferals in the road heading further up. Spaced a hundred yards apart, when they turned they were taken in the neck by the blade of a machete held in the right hand of the man on the bike. Miles made quick work of the pair as he continued up the road.
Miles: “It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary until I rounded that second corner. That’s when I saw her….”
Jema: “Who?”
Miles: “I have...no idea.”
The bike came around the corner as the voice of the pair faded out under the roar of the bike's engine. The road again, covered by the soft shimmer of the frost, was suddenly marred by a figure standing in the middle of the road three hundred yards ahead. It was a woman in her mid twenties with brown hair. The hair was hanging over half her face, the glint of some kind of metal in her right nostril. One of her eyes was black and the other seemed to be made up of some kind of strange white webbing. The entire upper portion of the left side of her face was covered by what appeared to be some kind of white chemical burns.
Miles: “I thought it was a damn Feral at first….but it didn’t charge.”
The woman stood perfectly still in the center of the road staring at the approaching bike. As it got closer more details could be made out. Her lips were a dark black, as if the blood inf her lips had darkened giving them the look of black lipstick. She was wearing a pair of black and grey military fatigue pants and a black tank top.
Miles: “It just stood…staring at me as I approached and then it reached back and pulled the nastiest weapon I’ve ever seen.”
The woman reached behind her with her right hand and slowly pulled a stark white object from behind her. It was four feet long and held by a flat end extending outward where it thinned into a bladed edge.
Miles: ‘It looked like a fucking sword made of bone but when it hit my bike….”
Miles tried to steer around the woman but she turned with lightning reflexes, spinning around and bringing the weapon around into the fork holding the front wheel.
Miles: “God damn thing cut through the fork of my bike like it was soft fucking cheese, Jax.”
The bone blade should have broken when it made contact but it cut right through the steel of the fork. The front of the bike hit the asphalt and came to a sudden abrupt stop sending Miles over the bars. He landed on his shoulder with a loud crunch and rolled toward where the road ended. He rolled under the barricade and into the dirt while the bike came to rest just on the other side of it.
Slowly the figure turned its attention from the crash to the path leading up the mountain. The camera followed its gaze to a cavern opening. It’s mouth opened and it let out a gurgling growling sound seconds before its head snapped back to the road again.
Miles was on his feet and staggering up the path toward a rounded out rock incrop. The woman followed, vaulting the barricade like it was nothing. She never broke strode from a quick brisk walk the entire time, her hand gripping the bone blade tightly.
Jackson: “Was it a Feral?”
Miles: “Not like any damn Feral I’ve ever seen, Jax. It didn’t scream or chase me. It just marched up the path behind me.”
Miles staggered into the incrop, stumbling and dropping to a knee as he did. Behind her the woman cleared the rocks now only a few feet behind him holding the bone blade low and staring up at him.
Miles wheeled around, his hand dropping to his thigh and pulled the pistol from its holster. He squeezed off the first shot the instant he was leveled only to see it hit the rock behind where the woman had been as she danced to the left. The barrel followed her squeezing off shot after shot, but the woman just continued to dance to the left, each shot hitting the rock as she did.
Miles: “Couldn’t hit the fucking thing. It moved so fast, Jax. Like nothing I’ve ever seen out here.”
The woman brought the blade around for a slash but Miles rolled under it. He came up behind her with the rock opened behind him only to find the woman standing facing him as he came up. The two locked eyes and he could see her working out who he was. He could see her thinking in that one good black eye.
Miles: “Damn thing was thinking, Jax. I could see it. Working out the best way to kill me.”
Jema: “They don’t think, Miles. You know that. They’re mindless husks. There’s nothing of the person inside it anymore.”
Miles: “I know what I saw, Jema! And then….”
The shot went back to the truck where Miles lifted his shirt with a grunt to reveal a huge bruise in the center of his chest, nasty purple and angry red. Jema gasped and leaned in to look closer.
Miles: “God damn thing kicked me.”
Jema: “It did this with one kick?!”
The shot shifted back to the mountain side where the woman landed a kick to the chest that sent Miles into the air. He flew backwards, landing only a few feet further than perhaps she intended. He hit the rock with a pain filled grunt on the edge of an incline leading down and immediately began to roll down.
Miles: “Thing sent me over the edge of an incline. I think that’s what saved my life.”
Miles was shown rolling end over end down the side of the cliff incline toward the water. The woman was shown staring down at the disappearing figure until a distant splash was heard. The guttural growling sound returned and she extended the arm holding the bone blade, pointing the tip down toward the water.
Letting out a ear piercing shriek Ferals exploded from the foliage on the sides of the road and began to sprint down the incline toward the river. A dozen of them. Without another sound the woman turned and started up the path leading toward the cavern opening and the shot shifted back to the truck.
Miles: “There’s something happening up in the mountain, Jax. Abigail and Madison are up there and God alone knows….”
Jackson bit his lip and knew that Miles would go alone if need be. It was no secret how the man felt about Madison Chaney. He’d risk anything for her. Pushing himself up he leaned into the small opening into the cab.
Jackson: “Change of plans, Gwen.”
Gwen: “What’s up, Jax?”
Gwen asked without ever taking her eyes off the plugged up streets.
Jackson: “We’re heading up to Richard’s Bluff.”
Gwen: “Why?”
Jackson: “Abigail and Madison may be in trouble.”
Gwen set her jaw and pushed the gear shift on the truck down into a higher gear and the truck’s engine roared.
Gwen: “Then let’s go and get um.”
Jackson pulled himself back into the bed of the truck and sat with his back on the back wall of the cab as the shot shifted to an aerial shot of the truck angling out of the city and onto the highway.
The mountain looming ominously in the background.