Post by MSS Productions on Jul 24, 2020 0:59:36 GMT
The episode opens to darkness and the whirring sound of what were clearly copy machines. They were easy to recognize and easy to make out, even in the darkness. The whirring was soon joined by the faint rushing of voices. The sounds of people, dozens of them all on phones, like you would expect from a call center.
MSS Productions Presents....
The shot visually finally opens, not on a call center, but on an office building filled with cubicles. The camera moves through the aisles of the office, shifting from one person to the next. Each of the people who appeared were dressed in the same business casual outfit that was professional, but not slacks.
The camera came down the third aisle before coming to a stop between two people, one of them was a young man in his thirties with brown hair who was at work on the computer, though what he was doing was anyone’s guess as his back blocked the camera view.
After only a few seconds on the screen a second figure slid to the side into frame. She was a younger woman, in her early twenties with brown hair wearing a blouse and a pair of black jeans. Using her feet to push her along she rolls from her desk to behind the man’s chair and looks over his shoulder.
Woman: “Hey, Jones.”
Jones: “I’m busy Pamela.”
The man’s voice tone was short, but playful. As if he truly was busy but he had been dealing with these interruptions so long and so often that he had not only become used to them but found them amusing.
Pamela: “Did you hear what that ass hat Preston did this time?”
Jones: “Got you working a double?”
Pamela: “As if. He knows better than to come at me with that shit.”
The man she had called Jones finally sighed and leaned back in his chair. He turned toward the camera and revealed a pair of glasses that he pulled off.
Jones: “What did Boyd do now?”
Pamela looked back and forth between them, from one side of the aisle to the other and then leaned in whispering.
Pamela: “You know how Ted up on 11 was working on that Nelson account?”
Jones: “Yea, and?”
Pamela: Preston stole it out from under him and gave it to the old man.”
Jones looked up and found two people across the aisle had all but stopped working and were listening intently. He shook his head and quickly logged out of his computer, rose from his chair and led Pamela down the aisle by the arm.
Jones: “Come on, let’s get lunch.”
The camera followed the pair into an elevator and down into the lobby where they crossed the street into a small cafe. When the pair arrived they found themselves face to face with the very topic of their conversation.
Preston Boyd was a man in his mid to late twenties with a cute, even pretty face and a smugness about himself that was very fake. The man was cocky to the point of being arrogant and it showed. His hair was smoothed back and he was wearing a pair of slacks and a button down shirt.
When he saw Jones and Pamela he rolled his eyes.
Preston Boyd: “They let just anyone in here don’t they.”
Jones: “Oh. Hey.”
Pamela: “Preston.”
Neither of them sounded at all thrilled to see him and Preston made a face.
Preston Boyd: “Oh calm down, I was just messing with you.”
Jones: “What the hell is that…?”
Pamela was about to snap at Preston, and no doubt risk her job when she thought Jones had started in one him, but when she saw the eyes of the man behind the glasses were starting off to the side she followed them.
The camera shifts to a view through the window of the cafe to the street outside. A man and a woman seemed to be having sex right there on the street. The man was on top of her and she was thrashing around.
Pamela: “Is he fu….”
Before she could finish asking the unthinkable red splattered across the glass of the cafe. Pamela let out a scream and Jones raced forward with Preston right behind him. Preston stopped at the door while Jones ran outside. The camera shifts to a view over his shoulder to see the man stabbing a jagged piece of rock into what was once a woman’s face but was now nothing more than a mask of blood.
Jones: “What in the actual fuck….”
The man turned at the sound and locked his eyes on the man in the glasses. He let out a loud shriek and sprinted at him. Just before the enraged man hit him, Jones saw the woman he had just killed get up and tackle a man who was running away.
The camera shifts to watch as Jones is tackled by the man and hits the glass wall of the cafe. The window explodes sending them through it while behind them on the street the woman was slamming the lookee loo’s head into the concrete.
Jones lands on a shard of glass and the man who attacked him immediately moves to someone else. The woman leaves the lookee loo on the ground and runs after another, only for the first to get up and sprint after someone else.
Soon people were screaming all over. The camera shifts back to find Preston Boyd was gone but Pamela was staring down at Jones in horror. That was until his eyes opened and he lunged up grabbing her by the hair.
The screen fades to black as the thumping dark gothic intro of “Cry Little Sister” by Gerard Mcmann begins. The toxic green words appearing on the screen.
MSS Presents…
Afterlife
Episode 5
Episode 5
“Reaver”
Starring…
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 Myrrh As Gwen O’Neal
DiDi as Alice Cornell
And introducing
Jessica Clarkson as Penelope
JC Keaton as Preston Boyd
A bright light opens the shot focused on a small grouping of rocks that hid what was behind it from the road at the bottom of the small hill. The shot suddenly shifts to inside the little rock shelter to find Madison Chaney slipping on her boots and quickly to a bare slender back. The back was covered by a kneeling titan and the words “James Ryder” were quickly covered up by the black fabric of a tank top. The camera stayed on Abigail’s back as the denim Kutte slid into frame and a close up on the kneeling Titan that matched the tattoo on her spine.
Madison pulled a near foot long piece of plastic from the inside of her own jacket and tossed it to Abigail. She caught it and glanced down, the camera coming to it to find a thick piece of meat jerky in the plastic.
Madison Chaney: “Eat.”
Abigail Ryder: “You need it, Maddy.”
Madison shoved the hand offering it back into Abigail’s chest shaking her head.
Madison Chaney: “And if you collapse? I can’t carry you, Abs. I need you to be conscious and focused.”
Abigail sighed and unwrapped the jerky tearing off a piece with her teeth and chewing, asking as she did.
Abigail Ryder: “What’s got you on edge, Maddy?”
Madison looked back at her friend, making sure she was actually chewing before motioning with her head and pushing herself to her feet. She led the way with Abigail behind her a bit up the ridge to a small inlet overlooking the street as they continued westward. A half a mile away sat a gas station with cars lining the street. They were blocking off access to the building all the way back to the mountain on both sides of the building and blocking off the street.
Abigail let out a silent curse and dropped to a knee holding up a hand to block out the morning sun from her face. From as far away as they were they couldn’t make out any people that may or may not be milling around.
Madison Chaney: “It’s gotta be a Poacher camp.”
Abigail Ryder: “Poachers don’t group like that.”
Abigail’s voice was quiet and she looked back at the little rock encampment they had used for shelter the night before.
Abigail Ryder: “How much ammo do we have?”
Madison; “I’ve got two for the Mossberg and one hand. You’ve got maybe three combined on each thigh.”
Abigail cursed and turned making her way back down the hill to the makeshift camp without saying a word. There was a hard edge to her face now as she knelt and began to pack up camp, what little of it there was. Once she had the two spiked batons on her belt she pushed herself up to her feet and started off westward. Madison hurried along behind her, gathering up her pair of stiletto knives and what little gear she had with her as fast as she could to not get left behind. The concern and confusion plain on her face.
**
The shot shifts to a lonely frost covered road and the sound of a large truck rolling along just before the big M939 came into view with Jema and Miles riding in the back. Miles looked a bit better now, but still worse for wear from whatever the hell had attacked him. Though it was clear by the intent on his face where he stood behind the cab and how his eyes scanned each side of the road he wasn’t wanting to come into contact with whatever it was again.
The truck rolled up the road, following Miles directions by each side of the cab he banged on. When they rounded the final corner into the straight away where he had been attacked by the strange undead woman they saw another vehicle was already here. A late model jeep with five men standing near a pair of bikes parked near the divider.
As they neared the group closer they could make out the wreckage of Miles’s own bike just beyond the metal barricade. The truck eased to a stop just before it reached the group of men with a squeal of brakes on the frosty street. The group all turned to face the truck, standing in a line. All of them wearing similar raggedy black leather clothing and all of them dirty from travel.
Unknown Man #1: “It’s ours fair and square. Rights of salvage.”
Said the brown haired man on the far left. Beside him a blonde with shades of a stubble beard added.
Unknown Man #2: “You can make an offer for them if you’d like?”
The two men on the other side each shared a hearty chuckle. Each of them red haired with thick red beards.
The doors opened and Jackson stepped out to the step stand so he was leaning on the side of the cab and forward onto the opened door.
Jackson Mawl: “Those belong to us.”
The words no sooner left his mouth than the men’s arms dropped to their weapons. Miles immediately snapped his arm forward and the bow unfolded. He knocked an arrow as Jema shot up, a shotgun in her hand. Gwen’s ax was in her hands when her boots hit the ground and Jackson came down with a 45. In his right hand.
The men all looked at one another uneasily and while their guns remained at their sides, they didn’t take their hands off them.
Unknown Man #1: “This belongs to us. We found them a day and a half ago.”
Jackson Mawl: “Those bikes belong to friends of ours and we aren’t leaving without them.”
The third man in the group, standing near the middle of their numbers looked at the brown haired man doing most of the talking.
Unknown man #3: “The fuck are we even talking to them for? We were told to get these bikes and bring them back so let’s just fucking kill….”
He never even finished the words when an arrow struck him square in the eye. It popped out the back of his head. He toppled to the side and the red haired man beside him, the only man holding a gun, raised his arm only to suddenly drop the gun with a howl of pain as a bullet from Jackson’s 45 tore through his forearm.
One of his companions reached down for the gun and a shotgun blast tore into the street between them. He backed up with his arms now up looking at the blonde woman standing in the back of the truck.
Jema Delacroix: “Don’t even think about it.”
Jackson Mawl: “Leave. I won’t tell you twice.”
The brown haired man snapped his fingers quickly and motioned to the jeep. The four of them hurried to it and climbed inside with the leader shouting as he started the engine.
Unknown Man #1: “Vanessa isn’t gonna like this!”
The jeep roared to life and sped past the truck down the hill with Jacksons watchful eyes focused on it as it disappeared down the road. Miles appeared jumping down off the back of the truck and headed toward the bikes.
Miles Wright: “MADISON! ABIGAIL!”
Gwen O'Neal: “Hey! Keep it down beardy! We don’t even know if we’re alone yet!”
On the other side of the truck, Jackson turned to look at Miles only to find Jema standing in front of him with her arms crossed.
Jema Delacroix: “Did you hear him?”
Jackson Mawl: “I heard.”
Jema Delacroix: “Vanessa is batshit, Jackson.”
Jackson Mawl: “I know, Jem…”
Jema Delacroix: “Vanessa isn’t….”
Jackson reached up and placed a hand on each side of the woman’s face.
Jackson Mawl: ‘I. Heard. Them.”
Miles Wright: “MADISON! MADISON, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
Jackson Mawl: “Miles, enough!”
Miles whirled around locking eyes with Jackson, a look on his face that few had seen before. He looked dangerous.
Miles Wright: “Don’t you ‘enough’ me! Abigail would never leave this bike behind and Madison wouldn’t ever leave her out here alone. Madison could be hurt!”
Gwen O'Neal: “Jax…”
Jackson Mawl: “Miles, you need to stop and think. What good would you be to either of them if you call down a swarm on us?”
Miles Wright: “I won’t just leave them out here!”
Jackson Mawl: “I’m not saying you should. Miles.”
Gwen O'Neal: “Uh… Jax…”
Miles stepped away from the bikes toward the big blonde bearded man, looking up into his face.
Miles Wright: “Then what are you saying, Jackson?”
Before Jackson could answer Jema stepped forward, putting herself right beside Miles with the shotgun no longer held negligently in her hands.
Jema Delacroix: “Step back.”
Gwen O'Neal: “Jax...”
Jackson stared down into Miles’s face, his jaw set but the whimper in Gwen’s voice brought his eyes to her. She was pale as a sheet and her lips were shaking in fear and disbelief. Crossing to her he laid a hand on her shoulder and she lifted the other hand pointing up. Following her gaze it took him a moment to see it, but standing above them higher on the mountain was a figure.
It was a woman with long black hair swaying in the wind. Even from this distance the damage to the woman’s face could be seen. The mouth, jaw and flesh below the nose had taken on a permanent red tint. In her right hand she held a curved axe made of pure black shimmering stone.
Jackson Mawl: “What… the hell… is that?”
Jema Delacroix: “Is that what attacked you, Miles?”
Miles approached the trio and looked up at the figure watching them in silence. He squinted, trying to get a good look at her but ultimately shook his head.
Miles Wright: “I don’t...think so? She was shorter...and her weapon was white.”
Jema Delacroix: “Why’s it just… staring.... at us?”
Gwen O'Neal: “Can we… get the bikes and go?”
Miles Wright: “What about Madison?!”
Jema Delacroix: “We’re no good to her dead, Miles.”
Together Jackson and Miles moved to the bikes while Jema and Gwen kept an eye on their strange visitor. They loaded the bikes up into the back of the truck, and worked together to carry the broken remains of Miles’s own bike into the bed.
The whole time the figure never moved. It just stood there, still as a statue, staring down at them.
Once the bikes were loaded Jackson motioned with a hand for Miles to join him and Jema in the back while Gwen got into the driver's seat. All of them watched the figure as the truck flipped around and began back down the mountain.
**
The shot shifts to a set of feet running hard. They hit a puddle in the dirty abandoned street sending water up in all directions and disappeared into a building. The door swung open, the loud ding that usually announced a customer entering didn’t greet them as they slipped inside and ducked behind one of the displays.
The camera shifts out to show the girl in a pair of dirty brown jeans and plain white dirty sneakers. She wore a white shirt stained with blood and the straps of a backpack over her shoulders. Her clearly blonde hair was pulled up into a plain brown baseball cap. Easing herself up she peaked over the top of the display.
The street beyond the store where the woman took refuge was littered with abandoned cars and the occasional body lying on the street or sidewalks. The only sound in the silence of the store was the girl’s breathing as she waited and watched.
She never seemed to relax and the reason why appeared after a little less than a minute. The click of boots echoed off the concrete and another woman appeared. Wearing black pants and plain brown boots with a button down shirt tucked into the pants. Brown hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head.
Alice Cornell.
Standing one each side of her were men nearly twice her size. Their facial features and hair were covered by a swat mask. They wore black pants and a swat vest with black boots and each was holding a long halberd in their hands.
Alice pursed her lips and her eyes shifted to take in the stores one by one. When they got to the store where the girl was hiding she ducked down again just before Alice would have spotted her. The brunette woman lifted a hand and rubbed her thumb over the curve of her delicate chin.
Alice Cornell: “Search the buildings. She came this way.”
The girl eased herself back along the display and into one of the empty aisles of what had once been a grocery store. The door opened with a scraping sound and she pressed her back to the end cap of the first shelf. Peeking out she saw the man standing near the cash registers and when he looked away she eased across the aisle to the second end cap.
The camera shifts to the armored man as he walks in slowly and steps down the first aisle. When he came to the end and turned, the camera quickly followed only to find the spot where the girl had been hiding was now empty.
The shot shifts once again to the girl, crouched and walking slowly down another aisle. She was barely breathing, eyes wide with concern and fear. When the armored man came around the aisles corner again and found nothing he headed back for the door leaving the other half of the store unsearched as nothing had made any type of sound since he arrived.
When he was finally out of the store the girl continued to slip around the aisles until she was near the back. The door leading to the loading area eased open with an audible creak. The loading area was dark and filled with smashed boxes but enough light came through the broken windows to allow the area to be seen.
She was careful to avoid any of the broken glass or pieces of wood that may cause any loud noise. When she reached the door and pushed it open the light from the other side burned brightly as it streamed in causing the shot to nearly miss the black clothed arm shoot into the doorframe and snatch the girl by the collar.
She let out a scream of fright as the other hand smacked the hat off her head and grabbed her by the hair. She was yanked from the doorway with enough force that she landed on her side and had to use her feet to try and push her forward as she was dragged down the alley by the armored, masked man.
He drags her around the corner and with a swing of an arm she topples at the feet of a pair of pristine brown leather boots. The shot slowly came up from the boots to the face revealing Alice staring down at her with a stern, even annoyed expression.
Alice Cornell: “Hello, Penelope.”
The young woman leaned up spitting up into Alice’s face. Alice recoils from the saliva and turns giving a look to one of the men with her that backhands the young woman on the ground with such force blood explodes from her lip. Alice wipes the back of her hand across her cheek where the spittle landed.
Alice Cornell: “Get the bag.”
One of the men grabs the back of the backpack attempting to remove it, but Penelope fights back, holding onto the straps. The second of the men levels the spear he was holding at the blonde girl causing her to freeze, lip quivering with fear at the spear's steel tip inches from her face.
Alice Cornell: “Give. Him. The. Bag.”
Alice snarled and turned her gaze to the man holding the spear.
Alice Cornell: “And if she so much as moves? Stab the thieving bitch in the face.”
All Penelope could do was quiver in fear staring up at the steel blade hovering over her face. Before the man could rip the bag from her hand however the sound of an automatic weapons chamber release being pulled back and loaded.
The two men freeze and their eyes lift at the same time Penelopes does to find a group of a half a dozen people, a mix of both men and women, all standing behind a man with short brown hair. He had stubble over his jaw and cheeks and was wearing a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, a white tank top and black and green sports jacket opened at the chest.
Each of the men and women behind him was holding an automatic weapon of one kind or another and the man at the front had his own leveled directly at the man holding the spear.
Man: “You’re gonna wanna lift that very, very slowly.”
Masked Man #1: “Who the fuck are you? Do you know who we are?!”
One of the women behind the jacket wearing man laughed a harsh barking laugh and shook her head. The stubbled man chuckled himself but his eyes never left the man.
Man: “All I need to know? You’ve crossed over into Cold Creek territory.”
Alice let out a curse and the man holding the spear immediately lifted it off the girl, but the man holding the bag didn’t release it.
Masked Man #2: “This shit belongs to Iron Lake!”
Man: “Everything belongs to Vanessa.”
Masked Man #2: “Fuck that. This belongs to Josiah!”
The bearded man standing at the group's head let out a deep sigh and took a step forward closing the distance and drove the butt of the rifle into the side of his head. The masked man toppled to the side only to come up with his own spear held at the ready but found himself staring down the barrel of three fully loaded assault rifles over the stubbled man’s shoulders. His wide eyes could be seen through the mask.
Man: “Josiah should know better than to stalk someone into Cold Creek territory!”
He let out a deep unhappy sigh and shook his head.
Man: “And now I have to send him a message to remind him of this fact.”
Alice Cornell: “I can relay any message you wish. I am his second….”
The moment that she said she was his second the bearded man put his hand on the barrel of the gun, pointed at her and moved it off. He turned his eyes to the girl lying on the ground who was now staring up at him.
Man: “What’s in the bag?”
Penelope: “...Medicine, food and ammunition.”
Man: “It now belongs to Vanessa.”
Masked Man #2: “They don’t even have ammo! This is fucking bull….”
The bearded man turned without warning and the assault rifle fired without warning. The bullet took the man clean in the center of the masked face. The mask shattered into a thousand tiny pieces of plastic and blood exploded from the back of his head covering Alice’s face who stood perfectly still with wide shocked eyes.
The other five men and women were immediately on the other masked man, the barrels of their guns pressed into his neck and growling that he get “on his fucking knees.” The man dropped to his knees, his shaking hand dropping the spear and arms held out to his sides. The bearded man slid the backpack off Penelope’s shoulders and tossed it to one of the women before continuing on to Alice.
Man: “Vanessa is going to want an apology for this blatant disrespect second in command. Directly from Mr. Crane himself.”
He turned his attention to the man on his knees.
Man: “You are going to take a message to Josiah. Tell him that Vanessa is very disappointed with the disrespect to chase someone into Cold Creek territory. That we are keeping the backpack he was so hell bent on getting back….”
He crouched and stared into the man’s eyes through the mask.
Man: “And, if he wants his second in command back alive? He’ll come to Cold Creek himself, with a fitting tribute to apologize for his slight.”
The man sat with wide eyes staring up at him and the bearded man stood holding the barrel of the rifle down at his head.
Man: “If you have a problem with it, I can write it on a piece of paper, cut your head off and send it to Josiah with the note in your mouth if you want.”
Masked Man #1: “I’ll tell him! I’ll tell him!”
Man: “Good.”
He turned to the armed group behind him and motioned to Alice and Penelope.
Man: “Get them on their feet and let’s go.”
**
The shot shifts back to the bright light shining off the side of the stark white mountain while Abigail and Madison creep toward the fortified gas station. The building and its vehicle were closer now, allowing the pair and the camera to see a half a dozen figures milling around near a makeshift fire pit near where the gas pumps had once been in the front of the building.
When they reached the line of cars, Abigail looked them over with an aggravated breath noticing getting up and over them would be extremely difficult with the way they had been stacked on one another.
Abigail Ryder: “How the hell do these sick fucks get this shit done?!”
Madison dropped to a crouch beside Abigail, the choice of words obviously not lost on her by the expression on her face. “Do” and not “Did.”
Madison Chaney: “You know them.”
She said matter of factly. Abigail paused for a moment biting her lip as her eyes scanned the woman’s face. Finally she nodded.
Abigail Ryder: “They call themselves Reavers.”
Madison Chaney: “Reavers? I’ve never heard about Reavers…”
Abigail Ryder: “There weren’t any this far East.”
Madison Chaney: “Who are they?”
Abigail suddenly grabbed Madison and pulled her into the wall of cars, pressing her hard into the metal. A piece of the bumper poked her painfully in the thigh but Abigail put her hand over the woman's mouth to keep her quiet.
Above them the metal creaked as someone walked along the makeshift wall. Madison tilted her head up, craning to look through the cracks in the metal and glass. The shot shifts to up through the same holds to see a man in his twenties wearing clothing made of bloody animal skins. He was hairy, or at least appeared to be with what looked like a metal mask over his face.
Far to their left a loud agony filled scream rang out and the man walking the wall let out a bark, like that of an excited dog or wolf and ran toward the sound excitedly. The screaming continued, long and drawn out, becoming wetter sounding before after a full minute finally falling silent.
Abigail released Madison and relaxed against the metal.
Abigail Ryder: “They’ll be busy for at least an hour now.”
Madison Chaney: “What was that?”
There was genuine fear in Madison’s voice as she looked in the direction of the horrible screams. Abigail answered in a disgusted whisper.
Abigail Ryder: “The dinner bell.”
Madison Chaney: “...Dinner….bell?”
Madison asked but Abigail was already beginning to climb. Each step was careful. Each handhold slowly placed to ensure grip before pulling herself up. Once she got to the top of the third half crushed car Madison expected her to reach down and help her up but found only Abigail’s face, filled with resolve.
Abigail Ryder: “If I don’t come back before the hour is up? Run.”
Madison Chaney: “What do you mean….”
Before she could even finish the question Abigail’s face disappeared and she heard her drop nearly soundlessly to the ground on the other side. Madison placed both hands on the metal of the cars, dread filling her heart.
Madison Chaney: “Abbi? Abbi, no! Don’t go alone!”
The shot shifts to Abigail in a crouch before shifting to the back of the gas station. The grass behind it was stained brown and dead. Sculptures of scrap metal shaped into strange shapes were everywhere. All the sharp edges and spikes forged into it stained with blood, the bases of every one scorched and burnt black.
As Abigail eased herself through the back of the station the trash began to pile up. Vending machines, car parts and other discarded pieces of junk were everywhere making it difficult for her to move silently, but she did.
The door at the back of the gas station banged open and a middle-aged woman appeared. She was thick and wearing the same animal skins as the others, all stained red with blood. What had appeared to be a metal mask had turned out to be spikey bits of metal piercing the upper and lower lips, chin, nose, ears and cheeks.
The older woman was holding a strip of bloody meat in her hands and eating happily as she walked out toward the scultures. When she passed by a potato chip vending machine Abigail rose up behind her with the spiked baton in her hand. She let out a bird like whistle and the woman spun around in wild glee.
The two’s eyes met just as the spiked baton hit the woman square in the side of the head. The bladed spikes driving into the side of her neck, jaw and bottom of the scalp. The woman never got a sound out before collapsing to the ground.
Abigail crouched and made her way back toward the back of the station. She crept past the opened door toward where the building ended to head around the front, hand dropping to the gun on her right thigh. Before she made it around the corner something hit her from behind driving her hard into the outside of the building.
The camera caught another of the strange people, this time a man in his forties wearing the same animal skins with similar bits of metal piercing various parts of his face. She brought her hand up but the man slapped the gun away sending it skittering across the ground. She landed a hard right hand to the stomach but the man threw his head forward driving his face into her shoulder. She let out a soundless scream, careful not to make a sound as the bits of metal drove into her kutte and into the flesh, blood immediately soaking the denim.
The man reaches out and grabs her by the throat rearing back his head to drive a headbutt into her unprotected face. Abigail could do nothing but watch, the pain from her shoulder taking all rational thought from her for a moment. Before he could make contact the blade of a knife erupted from his mouth and another out of the side of his neck.
The body was thrown to the ground revealing Madison on the other side staring at her wide eyed. Abigail, now free of his grasp, collapsed forward into her friend's arms. Madison wrapped her arms around Abigail’s stomach while Abigail’s wounded arm dangled over her shoulder.
Madison Chaney: “Come on...we gotta go….”
Abigail Ryder: “....I can’t leave until they're all dead…”
Madison Chaney: “Why?!”
Madison growled and Abigail looked down into her friend's face and there were tears in her eyes.
Abigail Ryder: “They...don’t…”
Madison Chaney: “What did they do Abigail?”
Abigail Ryder: “It doesn’t matter….”
Abigail then did something that shocked Madison.
Abigail Ryder: “....Help me...please…”
Madison stared up at Abigail as she found her strength and stood without Madison’s help. She had never asked her out right before. Not in all the years they had been together and it showed on the young woman’s face.
Madison Chaney: “...Do they deserve it?”
Abigail Ryder: “That scream you heard..?”
Madison nodded, needing to put words to what she already knew.
Abigail Ryder: “It was a person Madison. They were… eating… a person.”
Madison gasped as what she had somehow known was now suddenly made real.
Madison Chaney: “They eat people… alive?”
Abigail Ryder: “....Or dead.”
The words were barely spoken and clearly not heard by Madison. The younger woman just nodded and fell in behind Abigail as they decided this time they’d go through the building. The camera follows them in, then shifts to a shot of looking through the building. It was filthy and filled with blood soaked bits of fabric, some dry and some not and the bones of countless people. The beds where the Reavers slept were made of blood stained animal furs and the walls were covered in the same strange symbols as made from the scrap metal, but now drawn in blood and feces.
More of the Reavers were inside the building, some asleep and others were lost in the act of sexual gratification, their bodies bent and contorted like that of an animal. The sound of the rutting masked what little noise Abigail and Madison were making as they slipped through the building.
The camera followed the pair as they crept through the station room to room dispatching the Reavers one by one. In the first room Madison seems to hesitate, until she happens to look over and sees a skull sitting on the floor in the corner. The skull of a child. When she looked back at the sleeping bearded man she drove the knife into the base of his skull without hesitation.
The room the rutting sounds were coming from turned out to be three naked men and one naked woman, all mixed together in a mass of limbs and body parts, blood running down their bodies from the metal that pierced not only their faces, but also other parts of their bodies as well. They never reacted as Madison and Abigail fell on them with the knives and spiked batons, each stab and strike from the baton met with a wet cutting sound of the metal cutting into the flesh.
The camera followed the pair, now covered in blood to the front of the station. Sitting on what had once been a cashier counter were dozens of bags and weapons, all taken no doubt from those who had been unlucky enough to stumble upon the group. Silently the two began to look through the bags, always looking up around them to make sure they were still alone.
They emptied out one of the bags and loaded any food, medicine and water into it all the while piling up any firearms and ammo they found on the ground in front of them between them and the counter. Once they were done the camera shifts down to the pile to find a dozen shotgun shells and a handful of 9MM handguns.
The girls look at one another and at the same moment pull their weapons free. Madison loads the shells, careful to keep one in her palm to load when she racks the weapon. She knew better than to do it here. Meanwhile Abigail took the bullets from the guns and pushed them carefully, silently into the three handguns sitting in front of her. She was able to fully load all three of the 9mm’s and still have two full spare clips left over.
Abigail Ryder: “Am I ever glad these monsters don’t use guns now.”
Madison Chaney: “If we use them Abbi, you know any Ferals nearby will come right for us.”
Abigail Ryder: “I’m counting on it.”
Abigail said, loading the two clips into her weapons with an audible click. Sliding them back into the holsters, she pushed the other into the holster on Madison’s hip letting the younger woman keep the shotgun in her hand.
Abigail Ryder: “Let’s finish this.”
When Abigail and Madison stood and crept toward the front door of the gas station the true horror of the Reavers would appear. Through the filthy windows leading out to where the gas pumps had once been we're a half a dozen small bonfires surrounding a larger central sculpture sitting in a larger fire. A half a dozen people, or what was left of them were hanging stabbed onto the metal edges of the sculpture. All of them missing an arm, or leg or more. The smaller fires saw where those smaller pieces were. A half a dozen figures were crouched at the smaller fires feasting on the cooked parts.
Madison turned a pale green and it was clear she was nearly going to be sick when she saw it but Abigail only stared at it with blind hate. A look that Madison had only seen once before. A year earlier when they had nearly captured Preston Boyd, the man that had killed Abigail’s husband.
Abigail looked over at Madison and locked eyes for only a moment with her back to the door leading outside. She said nothing before kicking the door open with a loud bang. The pain on her face as she raised her injured arm with the other was clear when she cleared the door with Madison behind her raising the Mossberg.
The heads of the half a dozen figures all turned as one to the sound of the door slamming open only to be met by the eruption of fire from the barrels of the two handguns and the Mossberg shotgun. The bullets of the handguns took two in the head and the shotgun blast took another in the chest sending them back into the fire. The body immediately caught fire as the other four raised blood spattered weapons made of shards of metal taken from car parts but were met by the same force as the others.
The two women marched through the front of the gas station and gave no remorse or hesitation. That was until all of the Reavers laid dead except one standing near the sculpture whose face was not marked by the steel shards. Instead they were pierced around his head like a crown.
Abigail motioned for Madison not to shoot and raised her own guns instead. The man just howled at her like a wild animal when the handguns in her hand rang out three times, two shots from her good arm and one from her bad.
The first two taking the man in the knees and spinning him around and the other taking him in the spine at the small of the back. Leaving him alive, but unable to walk. The man screamed in agony and rage but didn’t say a word. As if he had forgotten how and Abigail, panting in hate motioned with her head to Madison.
Abigail Ryder: “Let’s go…”
Madison Chaney: “But he’s…”
Abigail Ryder: “When the Ferals come running to the sounds of the gunfire...they’ll find him. Alive…”
Madison turned her gaze to her friend in horror.
Madison Chaney: “They’ll rip him apart, Abigail…”
Abigail Ryder: “It’s better than any of them deserve.”
Madison looked like she wanted to argue but knew that Abigail wouldn’t stop. They walked to a break in the cars near the street on the far side of the barricade of cars with the man lying on the ground behind them throwing bits of metal at them and howling in animal-like rage but none of the objects hit them. All of them falling far short and sliding across the ground.
The camera followed the pair up the road and back up the hill toward the mountain as the sun began to slip down in the sky. There was hours of sunlight left when they reached the edge of the mountain and a small creek running down toward the road.
The women were cleaning themselves free of the blood in the cool water of the creek when the howls of the Ferals began to echo through the area. Abigail paused in the middle of washing her face clean and turned to look at the now empty fortified gas station. They were close enough to see the outline of the Ferals climbing over the cars in a swarm. A half a dozen of them.
When the man they left behind began to scream Abigail smiled a happy, satisfied smile and stared down. The camera coming in close on her face, specks of blood on her cheek and the look of steel resolve in her eyes as she listened to the Reaver commander being ripped apart.
The shot faded to black on a shot of her face and the intense, focused expression on the woman’s face.
For the first time Abigail looked… frightening.