No one is coming to save you.

What Abigail woke to was a crazy coote with herself zip tied to a table. Maybe crazy wasn't the right word, but Dutch oozed with intent. He meant what he said, and when stated if Abby can un-fuck a situation, it was an unclear we'll see.

The bunker was heated and thankfully, they were the only ones around. She had spent a couple of days in Dutch's watering hole, trying to get herself accustomed to the type of landscape and reading up on the situation; whatever she could grab her hands on. What happened on the extraction night was a blur and for the benefit of her sanity, nothing was well remembered. Dutch said she had a contusion and blamed her for not bracing for impact. She then proceeded to tell him that he should brace himself for impact when she shoves that microphone up his ass.

Regardless of their demeanours towards each other, they kept in touch via the walkie-talkiess. The banter made Abby feel more grounded and after when she explored Dutch's island alone, she pondered on what Mike would have done in this situation. He could have died. He could have been taken.

The optimistic side of her believed that no, that wasn't him. He would have played the game till he won. By playing the game, you have to make your opponents combust unto themselves. Mind games and whatnot. Abby thought that if she had to, she would try not to give up. But the pain has a limit. She knew it all too well.

Shrugging on the forest green overcoat that had been left in one of Dutch's lockers - apparently his daughter's - she met him in the comms room. For the situation at hand, it was a blessed set-up. There were cameras all over the island and direct contact with the old coote himself. It had taken them a couple of days to clean the island up, combined efforts of course, but nonetheless, it was a safer hiding hole without the interference of others. Last thing on the check off the list was the radio tower. It meant that finally, she could travel inland without losing contact with Dutch, and it also meant he could gather more info frequently.

Getting up there was a task in itself. Heights weren't a problem until you looked down, and Abby made sure she climbed back down - slowly - and not take the zipline down. One leap of faith and you could fall to your death. No thank you.

And finally, Dutch confirmed that he was receiving a damn strong signal and ordered for her to head back to pick up supplies. It was almost three in the afternoon when she got back to the bunker and Dutch furiously tapped on the screen of one of her monitors, turning the volume up. She hadn't seen any broadcasts since waking up and its arrival meant that the Seeds were on the move again. Concern was thought upon Whitehouse and Hudson. She didn't know what happened with the others - the image in her head was cloudy, but she knew they had been taken. All of them. She had no idea where - the map she had been given was of old landmarks. Ones that even Dutch didn't know if they still stood.

She hadn't read anything about John Seed being a marketing manager, nor an actual actor for these "advertisements". Though it was noted that he was the lawyer of the family, so it explained the theatrics of it all. Her heart broke to see the tear stained, duck-taped face of Hudson being held hostage, with a threat on the lips of John that we'll come for you. It made her gut squirm but she quenched those feelings, telling Dutch to make a copy of this one and any others that come in. His face kept lingering on the screen till it faded to black.

In all honesty, each one of them concerned her. Faith, the least, but that was more relying on the fact that she didn't have a lot of information readily available to make a decision. She heard rumours but nothing concrete. From what was told from the report, plus Dutch's accounts was that Jacob suffered from severe post traumatic stress disorder but instead of letting himself dive into depression, he gained a nihilistic treatment towards others. Physically, he outmatched her and she had no wanting to go out there and shoot anyone. They manipulated to their heart's content; the best way to deal with them would be to ignore them outright. Not that simple, given the situation, but keeping out of sights was a good place to start.

The old man had stopped for a beer break. It was hard to come across viable food, let alone alcohol, but somehow he found a way for his vice. "They're gonna come for you soon sugar, so you better cowboy up and see who needs help out there."

Abigail nodded. "I was able to catch some of the further signals while eavesdropping on the scanner. Seems they're starting to reap some of the properties in John's region more heavily."

Dutch sat down at his desk, and she could see the bags under his eyes. The man hadn't slept since they got in. The excitement was empowering.


Today had been a beautiful day. John hated the water but not even memories past could soil today's memories. Every Sunday, the serman would be in full swing, with Joseph at the reigns. Faith liked listening in on them, but he'd rather be out in the open air. The creeks were quiet, until the joined into the river in which they stood in today. He watched over all of the blessings and baptisms, and made sure all travelled on the right path.

Today, he had seen hope in Hope county, as ironic as life had been for him. News of the liberation of Faulkner's Island had been interesting news; the Deputy, or whatever the Hudson bitch had called her had been getting braver. The woman never said her name and he suspected it was out of fear for her. He couldn't blame her, she didn't see what he saw.

Jacob was waiting for his to finish his duties, behind him, the scrawniest deputy he'd seen since leaving Atlanta. It seemed that whatever he had planned to do today had been cancelled. John considered his previous council about security, not that he particularly cared for it. He knew Jacob didn't believe all that much in Joseph, or of anybody; but that was who he was. Trust was a thing you give sparingly, in his experience. And Jacob rarely dealt it out himself. John wasn't sure if he even was trustful of Joseph.

John himself believed the hymns he sang, to a point. He loved as well he could. Joseph told him that sometimes his passion showed to others as anger and that he needed to have perspective. Change was frustrating.

"Are you done yet?" Jacob said, hoping off of the boulder. The scrawn named Peaches scuttled after him.

"You saw the broadcast, right? I think it went down good."

"Good?" Jacob scratched his beard, and gave one of his rare smiles. It was small and you would probably miss in in a heartbeat; but it was there. "Sure it did. Until you decided to interject yourself into the narrative."

Peaches could see what they were both getting at. He rubbed his bruised arm, and listened as they talked over plans from Joseph. He had heard the whispers of Abigail and Cameron making it out alive by the skin of their necks. Quietly to himself, he reckons that John, the shorter of the two is definitely referencing his Australian colleague. He hoped she was ok.

"Oi Peaches."

He flinched under his gaze. He couldn't bare to look into his eyes but he had to, to avoid punishment. The man was a beast and scarred from head to toe, making him the source of Peaches current nightmares.

Crossing his arms, Jacob nodded at him. He asked, "What'ser name, the foreigner?"

"Don't know much." Peaches admitted. "I didn't meet 'er 'till we flew in."

Jacob cocked his head, while John had his arms crossed. He watched on hungrily with intent, his lower lip slightly ajar to greet his words. "Wrong answer."

In one foul swoop, Peaches legs were kicked out from underneath him and he thumped to the ground, his head hitting a nearby rock. He clutched at the pain and shuddered, saliva dripping out of his mouth.

John bent down, so that he was eye level. This was Jacob's squire, so he couldn't break him. (After all, that position was already filled.) What a pity.

"You really must tell me about her, peaches." He smiled to himself, the image of her looking at him flashing again. "I'm need to set up a get-together party on behalf of the Father for Easter this year, and I need to know what name to put on the invitation."

"Fuck you!" Pratt shouted, finding a roar in his gut. He spat on John's shirt and curled into a ball from the look that Jacob shot at him.

John sighed with disgust, looked at Jacob, and with a hang picking up Pratt by the collar, he said, "Well that's too bad. But you misheard me when I said you really must tell me, 'cause you don't have much of a fucking choice."


First impressions were everything, so when Abigail punched Nick Rye in the gut for sneaking up on her after the fight at the aviation yard, she apologised immediately after.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" Abby, looking around to make sure there weren't any more peggies hiding about, slung her gun back into its' case and helped the poor man up. He had a dog with him - Boomer, if she remembered correctly over the sounds of peggies, she would come to find that the ranch he had come from had been raided, and subsequently, his beloved family had been slaughtered in the name of the Father. Boomer was lucky that Nick came across him wandering, instead of a random peggie in the middle of the road. He was cute and he didn't spout nonsense.

He swore as well and graciously accepted the help. He fixed his hat and picked up his rifle, though while doing so, Abby caught the feeling of panic flowing off of him.

"They took my god damn plane! That was our only way out of this shithole!" He waved at the sky and swore again. He asked for her help in tracking it down.

Abigail looked towards the house and nodded in that direction. She needed to sit for a while and rest before heading back.

"Let's go inside first. You should probably check on your wife and if I'm going to get in there, I'll need to plan."

And by the way that the house looked before and after the skirmish, Nick would be needing to replace a couple of windows and wood panels when this whole thing blew over. Bullet holes and blood stains all over the deck, but the ceramic frog at the front door really made it a nice touch; in Abigail's opinion. Very homely.

In many ways Kim reminder Abigail of her own mother, or at the least, what she could remember of her own mother. She looked to be heavily set in her pregnancy, probably itching and - if she could - trying to research any methods out there on the internet to get the little tyke out of her. That is, if there was any. She found it absolutely adorable that despite knowingly having a girl, going for ultrasounds and check up appointments, they were still having a bouncing baby boy. She backed off when they started to argue over safety and the baby's gender, finding comfort in the worn down couch and Boomer's head on her lap.

"Welcome back everyone, to a special announcement! This concerns my fair lady."

Her gut dropped when she saw the face of John Seed on the working television. Beside him were the trio of siblings. Faith looked pleased, as well as Joseph in his cowboy tuxedo. Jacob sat back in his chair, nodding along to the sermon.

"Abigail Clearwater!"

John yelled, shouting up on the podium. He had gathered the nearest congregate of followers outside, in what seemed to be near the Eden's Gate compound. Both Kim and Nick paid attention to the newest broadcast which, surprisingly was directed to her. She groaned. Of course, with her starting to make her way up and out of here would be difficult but the last thing she wanted was a target on her back. Hold up, how the hell did he know her name and get a picture of her? "God has chosen you for a great purpose. Love is not something that is easy to uphold but with my faith and the wisdom of my Lord's message, he has chosen you to become a part of this family and to be at my side. We are all revelling in the news of your fate. Me, Faith, Father and hell, even your friends!"

The bruised and battered forms of her colleagues lined up in front of the stage for all to witness. They looked like they had been ravaged and broken. There was no remorse, and everyone in the crowd and onstage cheered. The stunned trio watched on as the group was marched away.

"We will join in the light of Father and begin anew. And please, do not worry about finding a ride. Our friends will find you in time."

Abigail gulped and went to turn off the screen. Nick took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair, processing the moment. "Damn, well shit Abby, he's marked you well."

Seeing everyone hurt like that made her determined to steer clear of the group, to find a way to help them. But she couldn't do both. Whitehouse's warning that some things should be best left alone resonated in her thoughts, and she turned to face the couple; determined.

She licked her lips."Let's get your plane back Nick. You got a radio I can borrow?"


Hey everyone!

Haven't spoken in a while nor written in a hell of a long time. If I need to address something, I'll write it at the bottom. Thanks for all of your support so far. I love hearing your opinions and it makes me feel great.

I'll see you later.

HH.

Note: Dutch's Island doesn't really have a name, nor do I think it's actually owned by him, so I am naming it Faulkner until there is confirmation