Fayetteville, Georgia
Sophia feels an overpowering sense of relief, being inside Faith's bedroom, and away from the swarming crowds of people. After attending school the day before, and being around such a large crowd, it was jarring for the recently awakened child. The whole time she had been at school, she had been in a constant state of awareness regarding her surroundings. Her heart kept racing, her stomach knotting with nerves, she kept sweating (and it wasn't just because of the Georgia heat), kept her feeling on edge. She had jumped at loud noises and startled when the other kids touched her or made sudden movements.
She hadn't been this bad, before she awoke with memories of the Dead Walking and being bitten by a Walker. Sophia had been on edge since she got to her homeroom teachers classroom. It was the realization that she was going to be in a room with a large group of people, with little to no exits, that had her panicking.
The previous day seemed to drag on. Walking through the hallways full of students to reach a classroom full of them, to the lunch room full of all of the students, lunchroom staff, and proctors inside the room, had Sophia running to the bathroom to have a panic attack. Faith was not far behind her, trying to help her without understanding what was going on. Until finally the school day was over and she was allowed to leave the school behind. At least for a couple of days.
Now, sitting in Faith's room, Sophia can feel herself relaxing as all her stress leaves her, at least regarding large crowds. It had taken some begging yesterday to her Mama to let her have a sleepover at Faith's. Finally, the best friends can begin Operation: Get Rid of Ed. As the two girls sit across from each other on Faith's bed, papers scribbled with thoughts and plans between them, Faith brings up a valid idea, "Why don't we call my dad?" She asks with sudden realization.
Sophia's head tilts as her eyebrows raise in question. It's clear she's curious about her best friend's suggestion, "How can your dad help us?"
"He's a Detective Sergeant here in Fayetteville," she reminds her dark blonde haired friend, "He used to work in New Jersey, just like my Mom, siblings, and I did. But he followed us here to Georgia, once Mom remarried and moved with Step-Stan here for work, so he could continue seeing us" she adds with a small smile. "Anyways, he's dealt with domestic abuse cases in New Jersey. I heard him and mom talking about it before," she adds with a mischievous little smile.
Sophia giggles at her friend. Just from her expression alone, the twelve-year-old knows that Faith was very likely spying on her mom and dad, when she was not supposed to. "That sounds like a great idea!" Sophia agrees with a smile, before she pauses, "But when would be a good time to call him?" She asks. "Doesn't he work all the time?"
"Yeah, but he always has time to answer his personal phone, because he knows it's Grace or I calling him, with Trinity and Nathan," Faith explains with a grin. She always does like it when plans come together. There's as pause as Faith gives Sophia a considering look. "I overheard Step-Stan and my mom talking about moving to Hawaii for a job opportunity," she sighs and frowns down at her hands, "I told Danno about it, and he wasn't happy to hear that, but he promised he'd follow us if it came to it," she says to Sophia.
Sophia frowns and reaches over the bed to grab her best friends hands. "Well, did they say that it was going to be soon?" She asks with concern.
"Sometime in mid to late April," Faith replies with a shake of her head, "But we can't move to Hawaii. Not if something is going to happen," she says pointedly to Sophia.
"Can we use your computer to look up Mr. Rick too?" Sophia asks, as she ignores Faith's remark for now. She couldn't use the school's computer lab yesterday, because she knows her teacher and the librarian watch what they do on it, and she didn't want to deal with the questions she'd be asked by the librarian about why she was looking up a Deputy Sheriff in another county. Which would bring up all sorts of uncomfortable questions that the young girl didn't feel like lying about. She hates lying, especially since she has been lying regarding her father's abuse, and acting like she's fine, when she really isn't.
Faith looks at her best friend with a thoughtful expression. Her blue eyes shine with scrutiny at her blonde haired and brown eyed best friend. "Is this about what you won't tell me?" She asks with insightfulness. "I noticed yesterday that you were more jumpy and nervous than usual," she adds with a caring tone that Sophia generally doesn't hear from anyone but her mother, "and just now, you wouldn't answer me," Faith adds with concern.
Sophia bites her bottom lip, touched by her best friend's compassion regarding her home life. However, she still wasn't sure if she could trust anyone to believe her, if she told them about what she remembers. As she considers whether she really should tell Faith the insane truth, she studies the other girl with a pensive posture. Can she trust Faith to believe her? It seems insane to her and she lived through it, however briefly that was. "Promise you'll listen to me before you ask questions?"
Faith nods as she realizes that whatever Sophia is about to tell her is serious. With a deep breath Sophia opens her mouth and begins to explain the outbreak that will occur in three months. She explains about the group she and her parents got with. The young blonde talks about the friends she made with Carl Grimes and Abel Teller. She further speaks about Mr. Rick, Carl's dad, comes back with Riley, Abel's older brother, who went even further than Atlanta to get supplies for the group, because they desperately needed it. She talks about how Mr. Rick and Riley, before coming back to the camp, saved a handful of their other group members, who got trapped in the city.
She speaks about the group having to leave after a horde of the Walkers attacked the group's camp. She voices how the group voted to go to the CDC, about how they got to stay inside for a few days, before they became trapped inside, until Mr. Rick had the Doctor open the doors before it blew up. Sophia explains that they left the CDC and drove for days, until they got stopped on a highway filled with abandoned cars. She talks about the group looking through the car for supplies when a horde of Walkers appeared. How they all hid under cars or inside of cars, when Sophia was spotted by a Walker that had dropped to the ground.
Sophia tells Faith about running away into the surrounding woods, with a group of walkers following behind her. She vocalizes about Mr. Rick and Riley running after her. She confesses to Faith how she was found and told to stay in this safe spot while they cleared out the smaller group of Walkers that had followed her. Sophia then admits to Faith how she had gotten scared, waiting in the woods as Mr. Rick and Riley lured the Walkers away, and attempted to go back to her Mama and the group but got lost and was attacked by a Walker. She then informs Faith about the pain, how it burned and made her so ill she kept vomiting and hallucinating before the sickness finally consumed her.
"The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed. I felt really awful, but not like before," she explains with a sigh. "It felt like the side effects of the flu," she explains, "you know that achy and sore feeling in your body. Where you feel too weak and light headed to stand up," Sophia says with a sigh. "When I woke up, that's how I felt, but I've had worse pain, so it wasn't so bad," Sophia adds with a shrug of her shoulders.
There's a moment of silence that settles in the bedroom of Faith Williams. "Do you believe me?" Sophia hesitantly asks.
Faith gnaws on her fingernails as she considers everything that Sophia just told her. Do I believe her? It seemed almost fantastical, but Sophia isn't the type to lie to an extreme like this. The fact that she knows these people she's never even heard about, especially Mr. Rick and Riley, makes it possibly feasible. "You wouldn't lie about something like this," Faith finally says as she looks at her best friend. "So yes, I do believe you."
The elation she feels at Faith's belief in her is huge, and a bright smile curls her lips upward. "Thank you," she breathes with a slump of her shoulders as the tension that is left in them, released.
"Let's call my dad first, and then we'll look up Mr. Rick, and contact him," Faith decides as she stands up from the bed and gently pulls Sophia with her to her mom and Step-Stan's office.
The office's door quietly swings shut behind the two girls with a click as they quietly make their way to Sophia's step-dad's desk with the desktop on top of it. Faith quickly sits on the comfortable leather office chair and awakens the computer. With swift fingers, she pulls open a browser and begins a google search for Rick Grimes. It doesn't take them long to discover the website for the King County Sheriff's Department. Clicking the link, a list of the members of the Sheriff's Department, that has a picture beside it, displays their desk phone numbers and a work email to get in contact with the Deputies or Sheriff.
"Right there," Sophia points at a picture of an older man with chocolate brown colored hair and bright ocean blue eyes, with a typical uniform for a small town police department. "That's Mr. Rick," she says with a smile of relief. She had for a time thought she might have gone crazy, but this is proof that she wasn't . "We have to write to him."
"Okay, here, should you send him an email or call him?" Faith asks as she looks at her best friend.
"I'll write to him from my private email. Then we should call your dad, then we can get started on getting rid of Ed," Sophia says with a heavy exhale, one that is filled with relief and excitement.
She opens her email and stares at the blank document.
Dear Mr. Rick Grimes , she writes as she begins to type out her thoughts to the man she trusts to help her and her mother.
Ciudad Juárez, Mexico
The burning heat of the sun beats down on Daryl and Merle Dixon as they pull into the dirt parking lot for a bar that sits in the middle of nowhere Mexico. The two brother's had driven to El Paso, Texas before going south, through Border Patrol, to get into Mexico. They had driven through the day and night on Friday, to get to Texas. Then through this morning, to get to Ciudad Juarez. The heat of the sun soaks into the leather jackets they wear. Their jeans and booted feet are dusty and add to the intensity of the heat. Daryl wipes the sweat at his temples and turns the ignition on his bike off. Merle, whose motorcycle is already off, turns to look at his baby brother. His bright blue eyes, a polar opposite to Daryl's green, and their middle brother John, who has sea green eyes, glances towards Daryl with an indescribable expression.
"Let me do the talkin' Darlina," Merle says with a firmness to his voice that showed that he means business. These men that Merle associated with were not ones to mess with. They would sooner shoot a person then listen to them, should they cross them or piss them off. If it had been his choice, he wouldn't have his baby brother with him, but he wanted someone at his back that he trusted, when he walked into a den of criminals.
Beautiful green eyes glance around the parking lot with wariness. The dirt parking lot is full of motorcycles, trucks, and SUVs, and the silence is honestly unnerving. "What the hell are we doin' 'ere Merle?" He asks his big brother with a raised eyebrow. The bike is balanced on its stand as he swings his right leg over the seat and stands beside it. He stretches his arms as his back cracks and pops as the sore muscles release after sitting for so long.
"We're lookin' to get some supplies from the people I worked...work for," he replies with a shrug, "and you keep your mouth shut baby bro," Merle orders again as he leads the way into the nondescript bar. The bar itself is made from red brick and has a wooden sign above the porch with a rather general name of Más Tequila . From outside on the wooden porch of the building, Daryl can clearly hear what seems to be Norteño music.
"Ah hell," Daryl mutters under his breath as he steps into the darkened bar, "he's gonna get us shot and killed," he adds beneath his breath as his eyes catch sight of dangerous men armed blatantly with guns. The bar, once filled with laughing and talkative voices, quiets at the sight of two very obviously white men stepping into their bar.
"Dixon," a man greets from behind the bar. His voice is cordal when he greets the older Dixon, but it's his eyes that catch Daryl's attention. The man's eyes are cold, cynical, and watchful as he looks the two men over, like a wolf silently studying its prey. "It's been a long time since you have shown your face around here," he remarks casually, his voice lightly accented, as he sits the glass of whiskey on the bar. The silence in the bar makes the glass sound loudly as it's placed on the countertop.
Don Eladio Vuente is the leader of the Juárez Cartel, a very prosperous Mexican drug cartel that Merle has been employed with for the last decade. It was something he hadn't purposefully set out to do. It had been happenstance and knowing people who knew other people, that caused him to fall under the radar of the Juárez Cartel.
It certainly didn't help that Merle knew Pimps and Drug Dealers who associate with members of the Cartel, which brought Merle into the circle. Until one day, Merle woke up and realized he was a Drug Runner. Of course, this clairity came after a weekend binge of drugs, sex, and booze.
"Don Vuente," Merle greets respectfully. His thick Southern accent is lessened now, it's barely noticeable when he speaks to the Head of the Juárez Cartel, "I had to be on my best behavior following my release from prison," he continues to explain, "I couldn't leave the country until my year of parole was up." It's been a few months since that year has passed, but Merle had honestly hoped , for whatever it was worth, that he never would have to show his face to these men again. That is until he woke up with memories from another life where the Walking Dead existed. Now, he needs the sources he could get from the Cartel if he wants to survive, if he wants to help others survive . It is honestly hard trying to live a life with morals.
It's hard and exhausting.
Merle and his two brother's had learned early on in their lives, when they originally moved from Georgia and up North, after his parents divorced, that no one took a man with a Southern accent as anything but a dumb hick. Whenever Merle speaks with a Southern accent, it's to keep up the assumptions that he's just racist msygnostic white trash. It allows him to hide behind the charade. It's what everyone assumes when they see him, and that works to his advantage. No one thinks he's smart , and so they talk about things they wouldn't think he'd understand.
It works to his advantage, usually. But with a man like Don Vuente? Merle couldn't act like a hick, as everyone tends to call him, because Vuente's wouldn't tolerate that attitude for long, and when he didn't approve of something, that someone usually ended up dead.
"Hmm," Don Vuente hums, his dark eyes study the other man with intent. It's impossible to read the man, as his eyes appear to be devoid of emotion. It's the eyes of a cold blooded killer and one that's ruthless as well. The kind of person that wouldn't hesitate to kill another, if they deemed that individual no longer useful.
Merle forces himself to remain still and unfazed by the man considering him. "You want something from me, yes?" Don Vuente's finally says rhetorically. "Deliver a shipment of my drugs into the United States and to New Mexico, and I will get the list of supplies you want from me, sent to you in New Mexico," he says in the same genial manner he spoke from the beginning.
"How big of a shipment?" Merle asks warily. His sky blue eyes look steadily back at Don Vuente's.
The other man smiles, it is aloof and emotionless, the type of smile that generally leaves the other person uncomfortable. "You certainly won't be able to get it through your motorcycles. You will need something bigger, such as an RV."
Atlanta, Georgia
Midtown
Jacqui looks between her mother, Raoul, Laurent, and Auguste, and tries to figure out what to say. The day before she had been trying to figure out what to do, following the voicemail she left for Rick Grimes when she couldn't get a hold of Rick remembers like she does, the. It honestly doesn't surprise her that he wasn't at work. How does a person, who recalls such horrors, attempt to go about their day like nothing happened?
She has spent the day prior writing a list of supplies that are crucial following the End of Days. She looks down at her list, and her stomach turns with fear and anticipation. Medicine, Freeze Dried Food, Canned Food, Dehydrated Food, Weaponry, Survival Gear, Gasoline, Ammunition, Clothes, Water Purification Supplies, Potassium Iodide, Fishing Gear, and so many other things that go with these supplies.
Jacqui isn't really ready to face the fact that she's going to be truly fighting to survive this time around. She understands exactly what is going to be coming and she knows she's going to be able to save her family this time. That she's going to be able to get her brother's and mother to safety. That she can get them out of the city sooner. But first, she has to tell them what's going to happen.
"I just want to begin by first saying that I know yesterday I wasn't acting like myself," she explains to her family. She's not truly looking at her family, as she fiddles with her fingers in nervousness. Her brother's share a look, each silently noticing how unlike herself their sister still is. She exhibits clear signs of anxiety, something they had thought Jacqui had overcome years ago.
"I woke up yesterday morning, having experienced my death," she says to a stunned silence as her family stares at her. "It wasn't like any nightmare I ever had," she explains, finally looking up with dark eyes that show an old soul. Jacqui has always been older than her years, but this look in her eyes, displays a seasoned soldier. Someone who's been through Hell and preserved, until they couldn't. "Dead come back and infect others by biting them. It gives them the disease and they die by the extreme fever, before coming back to life," she tells them with a terrified expression.
"You all died in front of me. Mama was attacked, and Laurent died trying to save her," she says. Her voice goes distant, like she's lost in the memory. "Raoul," Jacqui's voice cracks on his name, grief stricken tears make her eyes glisten and her throat tight as her mind becomes submerged into the memory. "You died protecting me." Tears fall freely down her cheeks as her shoulders shake with quiet sobs.
"Oh baby," Nadine murmurs with tears of her own shining in her eyes. She stands from her chair to quickly take a seat beside her only daughter. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of that," she soothes as she wraps her arms around her daughter, cradling her against her side.
"What happens...happened...to me?" Auguste questions as the three brother's watch their sister with frowns.
Jacqui sniffles, taking in deep shuddering breaths as she rapidly blinks grief stricken tears back. "You...you died saving Riley's brother, Harry," she explains with a small smile. "He's uh, he's only four. He got separated from his brothers. You saw him cryin', little thing being cornered by Walkers. You didn't even hesitate to jump in to his defense. You saved his life."
Auguste smiles at his sister's words, it's not necessarily a happy or sad smile, but rather satisfied. "I'm glad I was able to save a kid. This Riley person is good?" He asks his sister.
Jacqui smiles and nods her head, "He's one of the best people I know. He will do anything for those he loves and considers friends or family," she reveals with a heavy sigh. "He and Rick, another man that's good and saves people, have saved my life a few times."
"Then I'm pleased to have done something good, before I died," Auguste assured his sister.
"If I died saving you, Sis, then there's no other way I would have wanted to go, besides the obvious old age," Raoul remarks as he gives his older sister a tight hug.
"Dying for you or Mama, it's the way we would want to go. We'll always gonna try and protect you, Sis," Laurent chimes in as he also hugs Jacqui, who is quickly followed by Auguste.
It's a big group family hug, that leaves Jacqui feeling happy and loved. She won't let them die this time, not if she has a say in it, which she does. "Not if I have anything to say about it," she remarks with conviction, "You are not allowed to die this time," she orders firmly. "We have three months before it's supposed to happen," she explains to her brother's and mother, "and I want us to start gathering supplies. I made a list of things we should start gathering," Jacqui says as she holds up her list on a piece of white lined paper to her family.
"Laurent, you're likely to have more success in getting supplies like medicine or other drugs, maybe some weapons, and medical supplies from your gang you're affiliated with," she says with disapproval clear in her tone. As much as she despises that gang life her brother decided to go down, she knows that being a gangster will honestly help them in the long run. Even if she does hate uses that route. Her brother could really get in trouble with his parole officer if he finds out. " Please be careful ," she pleads with a concerned frown.
Jacqui's hesitant to ask Raoul for anything, considering he has Complex PTSD, but she knows her brother doesn't want to be defined by that. That Raoul will want to help however he can. "If you want to tell your veteran buddies about what is to come, you can," she assured her brother, "just be careful about who you tell." Jacqui didn't want her brother to appear to be having a psychotic break because he's talking about the Dead coming back to life and biting others. That's just a one way ticket to an asylum waiting to happen.
"Whatever supplies you can get ahold of Raoul will be extremely helpful," she informs him as he looks over the list that Laurent holds. "That goes for you too, Auguste. Whatever supplies you can get a hold of will be a great help."
"I suppose we should use my savings to get as much supplies as we can," Nadine says as she looks at her four children. "Of course, we'll need to figure out where we're going to put all these supplies," she adds thoughtfully. "They certainly won't fit in the apartment."
Jacqui smiles reassuringly at her mother, "I have an idea of where it's going. I'm just waiting for Rick to give me a call back."
Atlanta, Georgia
Virginia, Highlands
Jim Rothenberg has always been different from most people. For as long as he could remember, he has had these premonitions, generally it was a strong feeling that something is about to happen, especially something unpleasant. As a child, he had a Sixth Sense, an ability that gives him information without using the five senses of sight, hearing, touch, smell, or taste. He was able to perceive things that others couldn't. As he grew older, that Sixth Sense advanced, rather than getting just feelings or sensations, he began to also get glimpses and those feelings or sensations grew along with it, becoming stronger.
The most prominent moment of his life, when one of his premonitions occurred, was when his cousin Brian was going to go away on a weekend trip with a group of his friends. When Jim had heard the news, he had gotten a foreboding feeling and a flash of a mangled car with the sense of Death hanging over it. Jim had informed his cousin that if he went away on this trip, he'd be killed in a car accident.
Everyone in his family has always believed in his "abilities" even when Jim himself didn't truly believe it himself. But he put trust into these feelings and always informed friends and family on when he got these feelings, even when he didn't truly understand why he had these feelings. That weekend, Jim's cousin Brian received the news that his three friends had gotten in a car accident with a semi truck. There were no survivors. His cousin Brian had believed Jim, and hadn't gone on that trip, and his friends who he attempted to talk out of going, had. It was then, in that moment, that Jim started to put more faith into these strange gifts.
The second time he had gotten a premonition again, was in that Other Life. Jim had a nightmare that he couldn't remember when he awoke. Followed by a sense of Death, and a strong urge to dig up holes, which quickly followed losing six of their own in that clearing when they were attacked by a horde of Walkers.
Now, as Jim stood in the middle of a salvage yard with his cousins Brian and Cooter, his brother-in-laws Colin and Owen, and his nieces Mikaela and Kaylee, standing beside him, he thought back to how easily his wife, his twin sister and her husband, and the kids had believed him about what is to come in the future months. He supposes it helps that they have always believed him on his premonitions, and this alternate timeline was certainly a big one to have.
"What do you have in mind on vehicles Uncle J?" Mikaela questions as she scans the large salvage yard with bright blue eyes.
Jim hums as he begins to walk further into the yard, "Short and Long Buses, Jeeps, SUVs, Trucks, and Vans," he lists as he wanders through the cars that sit abandoned in the dirt lot. Further ahead of him, Jim can see Brian and Cooter looking over a 2007 GMC Sierra 2500HD work truck with an extended cab. It wouldn't necessarily be a bad truck to get. Already ideas popped into his mind for what they could do with it. Off to the left, Kaylee is looking over a short bus, while Mikaela stands in front of a 2004 Hummer H2. Jim isn't necessarily a fan of the gas hog, but it could be a good vehicle to utilize in the apocalypse.
He turns to the vehicle he has discovered, a 2008 Chevrolet Suburban LS 2500, and the ideas come to him as he walks around the SUV. He has a very strong feeling that he will be acquiring more cars than he first thought, as his dark eyes follow his family's trek through the yard, marking the vehicles they found, two of those being long school buses, two short school buses, an ambulance, and a shuttle bus.
Atlanta, Georgia
Centennial Hill
"I promise Uncle, I am not having a mental breakdown," Glenn groans as he collapses onto his couch in the family room of his apartment. His head aches from the constant back and forth that he has had to deal with from his maternal and paternal aunts and uncles over the last few hours. Since he told them what will occur in three months time, they've been concerned about his mental well-being.
Glenn understands that it's difficult to comprehend something so out of the realms of reality, but is it too much to ask for them to be a little open minded about the possibility that this could happen? So now he's been on the phone for hours, arguing and speaking with his family on their concerns regarding his mental health and stress.
His cousins had taken his announcement in stride. They had always been open minded and willing to believe what should be the impossible. His cousins had been more willing to begin assisting Glenn in gathering supplies. His cousin, Cato, had taken an hour and half of Glenn's morning asking questions about his Other Life.
Lillian sits quietly on the couch, her sea green eyes watch as her older brother paces the room, frustration clear in his body language as he argues with their aunts and uncles. Lily knows Glenn is worried about what's supposed to come. He had sat her down, along with Myra and Helaine, and explained to them what was going to happen in three months.
At first, Lily's older sisters hadn't wanted to believe, not until Glenn started telling them things regarding their personal lives that they planned to do in the next three months, things they had kept secret from Glenn, that had Myra and Helaine believing him. From there, they agreed to start helping Glenn gather supplies, while he dealt with getting help from their aunts and uncles. Glenn hasn't called Rhonda yet, and Lily knows it's because Ronnie has a life of her own. Her husband's in the Army, so it's mostly Ronnie who's raising her husband's three boys and the twins. Glenn is probably worried he'll stress their sister even more, but Lily knows he's going to call her. Most likely after the aunts and uncles stop fretting.
Now, sitting on the couch, Lily sighs and carefully lifts her legs up onto the cushions. Her arms wrap around her legs and her head rests on the back cushion as she lazily follows her brother's frustrated path around the furniture. She doesn't understand why adults have to make things so hard. Their aunts and uncles know Glenn doesn't lie, and her brother is really smart, so why was it so difficult to put their trust in him?
"Uncle, I promise, my mind is clear. I am not drinking or taking drugs. What I experienced was real. What I'm trying to do is save your lives and prepare for what's to come," Glenn explains with a tired sigh, "That's all I want. You all died in the outbreak, trying to save other people when you, the aunts, and the uncles, let alone the cousins, should have been concerned about yourselves first." His voice is thick with emotions. Tears burned his eyes as he unsteadily breathed in and out. He did not want to break down. He didn't have time to have that mental breakdown his aunts and uncles believe he's going through.
"You're all doctors, surgeons, veterinarians, nurses, scientists, and law enforcement. I could really use your help in gathering medicines and other supplies for when this Outbreak starts. I know you're having trouble believing this can, and will happen, but please ," he pleads as he collapses on the couch beside his youngest sister. His free arm, that isn't holding his cellphone, wraps around her shoulders. "Keep an open mind for your own sake and my cousins," he says tiredly.
"I already told you what to start looking for, and it will start happening more over the next few months. At first it'll just be a few people that are coming down with what seems to be a typical virus to all the specialists, but no medicine that's given to these people helps. Their fevers are the worst, it burns the individual from the inside, nearly boiling their brains and organs. It's also followed by weakness in the limbs, fatigue, nausea, pain in chest, difficulty breathing, coughing, loss of taste and smell, and pale grayish skin," he lists with a heavy sigh. "These people die from this virus or whatever it is, but they won't stay dead. They'll come back and attack you, they'll try to bite you or scratch you, but don't let them do that," he orders firmly. His arm squeezes Lily's shoulder as he speaks. He hopes he's not scaring her with what he's saying.
There's a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone. His family, who he had been forced into a group call with, contemplates everything Glenn has just told them. "Okay Glenn, we believe you. We'll be sure to be alert and keep ourselves safe," his Aunt Mina promises for his Aunts and Uncles. "We'll also help you gather supplies, just tell us where to send them," she adds.
Glenn heaves a sigh of relief as he breathes out, "thank you," to his Aunts and Uncles. "There's this farm, called the Greene Farm," he explains to his Aunts and Uncles, "that my family, the group that I was with," he further clarifies, "went to for a short time. If I get in contact with Rick, who was our Leader, and if he remembers," he says with hope simmering beneath the surface, "then I'm hoping Hershel, who is the owner of the farm, will also remember and we can send the supplies there," he finishes as he leans back into the couch.
"When do you think you'll get in contact with this Rick?" His Uncle Sung asks with curiosity clear in his tone of voice.
"By Monday, hopefully," Glenn replies. "If he did remember, then Rick likely didn't go into work," he says as he abruptly recalls that Rick had been shot, in that Alternate Timeline, two days ago. But he couldn't have been shot, because the Secretary at his station hadn't mentioned Rick not coming into work on Monday. So does this mean Rick remembers?
Glenn shakes his head, he'll just have to wait and see. "We'll get in touch in a few days, Glenn," his Aunt Areum says, which has his other aunts and uncles quickly saying their goodbyes before hanging up. Glenn lets his phone fall onto the cushion beside him. His head rests against the back of the couch and his dark eyes stare up at the ceiling.
It's quiet, for a long while, the only noise that's heard is the city life and the people going about their day in the apartments surrounding them. "You didn't tell them," Lily murmurs in a soft voice, her tone neutral as she looks at her older brother.
Glenn breathes out, "I know," he mutters, "I know."
Macon, Georgia
Michael "Mike" Hardinson and Terrence "Terry" Onyango are dreading the day that looms closer to the day that they go into the Rehab Clinic to begin the process of getting clean. They both understand that they need to do this. That they can't continue to go on the way they have, not if they want to survive what is to come. That doesn't mean they have to like it. They know exactly what sort of hell they're about to put themselves through. They've done the song and dance of getting clean before, and it hadn't stuck. This time had to be different.
For Mike, he had his girl and their baby boy to think about. He couldn't allow himself to be a burden. He let his drugs control his decisions last time and it got his little boy, his son, killed. It doesn't help that he also wasn't much help when the Dead attacked. He was too out of his head to realize what was happening until it was too late. This time, he wasn't going to let that happen. Once he got clean, he'd call his brother Alec and he and Terry will talk to Michonne and tell her what was going to happen.
Mike knows that if he and his best friend tried to tell Michonne this now, she'd think it was the high talking. Once they're clear headed, then they could tell her what was going to happen. Mike places the last of the dishware, wrapped in sheets of packing paper, into the box. He flips the lids closed and begins to tape the box shut.
Terry is at his own place, wrapping his own stuff, which isn't much since he shares his apartment with three other people. All his friend has to pack is clothes and personal belongings that will only take a few duffle bags worth.
The sound of Andre's happy giggling has Mike turning his focus to his son. A smile curls his lips upward as he watches Michonne and Andre dance together to the music playing from the speakers. "I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance, Never settle for the path of least resistance, Livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin', Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin','' Michonne sings with the music as she cuddles Andre against her chest.
Mike leans against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and watches in captivation as the mother and son duo share a loving moment together. The utter joy and adoration the two emit through their body language, leaves Mike feeling breathless with awe and wonder. There is nothing purer than a mother's love for her child. Everytime he sees Michonne interact with Andre, he's reminded of that fact.
Mike has always known how wonderful a mother Michonne is. It's the way she's always acted with children. She's always been so sweet, caring, and maternal. From the day he met Michonne, an extremely talented artist who was displaying her art in an exhibit in Atlanta, had immediately caught Mike's attention. When he further discovered she was an art teacher as well, and knew how to use a katana from sword training when she was young, had Mike smitten.
He loves how independent Michonne is and that she can handle herself. He knows that if something happens to him again, she'll be able to protect herself and their son. Not that he's expecting anything to happen to him, but should something occur, he knows she's got it covered. "You two seem to be having a little dance party in here," he says with a smile still prominently on his face, when Michonne turns to face him.
"We love dancing to music," she says with a bright and happy smile as she kisses Andre on the top of his head. The little boy giggles and cuddles against his mother, his head resting comfortably against her shoulder.
"I know," he murmurs with a fond smile, "you two love your dance parties," Mike states as fact. When Michonne was pregnant with Andre, she used to listen to music of every genre, because she wanted their son to love music as much as she does. "I finished packing up the kitchen," he says with a tired yawn. "I also finished packing the dining room, linen closet, and our bedroom," he adds as he rubs his face with the palm of his shaky hands. He can already feel the aches in his muscles and the nausea that has begun to settle permanently in his stomach. He feels like he's been hit with a bad case of the flu, but he knows it's the withdrawal starting to set in. By time they get to the Rehab Clinic, he knows he's going to start feeling the full effects of it.
"I finished packing up Andre's room, the bathrooms, guest room, and the family room," Michonne replies. Worried dark brown eyes watch Mike, and a frown curls her lips downward as he gives a full body shudder. The withdrawal was beginning to set in. It has already been a day since he had any Heroine. Mike and Terry had begun to come down from their high, when the two suddenly decided that they weren't going to take the drugs anymore after a nightmare they seemed to have shared.
Michonne knows something is going on, but what that something is , is currently a mystery to her. She'll give the boys until they finish Rehab before demanding answers. She wants them to concentrate on getting better, before she starts pushing for answers.
Center For Disease Control
Dr. Cynthia Jenner feels the unexplainable sensation of eyes on her back, watching her as she goes about her day in the CDC. From working in the labs studying physical and mental diseases and impairments of humankind, to learning about the organization, provision and financing of health services and information communication, Cynthia does it willingly. She loves her job as a Head scientist in the CDC. As one of the older and more experienced doctors in the federal agency, she has the job of having technicians and researchers beneath her management assisting her daily.
At the moment, Cynthia looks through a microscope of a new viral strain of virus, for this current timeline. This same strain is what had her originally realizing in the Alternate Timeline, that it is a part of a family, and that this particular virus can replicate in more than one hosts, which led to the Tyrant virus.
The Progenitor virus, also known as the "Founder" or "Mother virus", is the very first of the mutagenic viruses that they discovered in the Alternate Timeline. This virus, that the scientists working on the case discovered, is the virus that everyone is already infected with, which was realized when they took samples of their own blood to study and test.
The Progenitor virus, the scientist's have studied, induces swift and uncontrollable transformation in a host's genetic material, but the mutations are not coordinated, and it perplexes everyone that is involved. In hosts with a genetic structure less intricate than a humans, the mutations are less prominent, and generally limited to increasing their bulk and aggression, such as dogs, bats, rats, and other similar species.
From studying the Progenitor virus, the scientists in the Alternate Timeline had then discovered the Tyrant virus. This particular virus came about from the news of a virus that purportedly functions comparably to most other viruses, but has the capacity to animate dead tissue, to essentially transfigure its host, and to contaminate almost any tissue in any type of host. It animates dead tissue by killing and inversing any mitochondria in infected cells, and then joining with these cells to construct ample energy for the motor and lower brain functions.
By doing this, most of the body's systems, like the circulatory or respiratory systems, are made obsolete. Nevertheless, this progression has the unfortunate effect of severe necrosis in the host, and creates the unforgettable appearance of the host rotting.
However, while the Progenitor virus technically morphs into the Tyrant virus, these viruses are still two seperate diseases with different symptoms. Tese mutations are formed when the virus assimilates itself into the host's genetic code and extensively alters it. This occurs when one who is "deceased" awakens and bites another who is infected, which consists of the Progenitor virus, or when the host of the Progenitor virus dies by natural means and awakens with the Tyrant virus.
Creatures, such as animals, with genetic structures diverse from humans, commonly display less severe mutations, and generally only increase in size. As a consequence of the Tyrant virus' integration of its host, particularly its absorption of the host's frontal lobes, all hosts are afflicted from notable rise in aggression. The virus also mutilates the hypothalamus, and that results in a burst of neurotransmitters, enzymes, and hormones which provokes a psychopathic rage and hunger in the host.
Cynthia pulls away from the microscope and rubs her burning eyes. No matter which way she looks at it, there's nothing new she's discovered about the Progenitor virus and the Tyrant virus has yet to truly materialize yet. It's still months away from actually forming.
There's so many unanswered questions that she has. Where did the Progenitor virus originate from? How did the Progenitor virus form itself into the Tyrant virus? She's aware these viruses are separate but very similar, but how does it actually animate dead tissue? How can the Tyrant virus get the hosts up and attack others, hungering them when they essentially have no real brain function, except for the basics of movement? How was everyone effected with the Progenitor virus? With such minimal symptoms to it? Why does it only truly affect species like dogs, cats, rodents, and other similar animals?
Cynthia is aware, as most scientists who work in the CDC, that an infectious disease agent can be transmitted in two ways: a horizontal disease agent's transmission from one individual to another in the same generation (peers in the same age group) by either direct contact (licking, touching, biting), or indirect contact through air – cough or sneeze (vectors or fomites that allows the transmission of the agent causing the disease without physical contact) or by vertical disease transmission, passing the agent causing the disease from parent to offspring, such as in prenatal or perinatal transmission.
With the Progenitor virus, it could have been spread through airborne infection. This would refer to the infectious agents spreading via droplet nuclei (residue from evaporated droplets) containing infective microorganisms. These organisms would be able to survive outside the body and remain suspended in the air for long periods of time. It would then infect others via the upper and lower respiratory tracts.
However, it could have also been spread by droplet infection, by way of respiratory droplets, generated by coughing, sneezing, or talking. Or, the Progenitor virus could have bed. Spread by direct contact infection. For this to occur of course, it would have to spread through skin-to-skin contact, kissing, and sexual intercourse. Direct contact also could be spread through contact with soil or vegetation harboring infectious organisms.
Cynthia flips the pages of documentation regarding the Progenitor Virus, and in the near future, the Tyrant Virus. As she considers all the information she has written down since she awoke, she considers the absurd possibility that this virus, and the ones to follow in this family of viruses, was spread through all three of these infectious spreads. Was this disease actually smart enough to do this?
It's clear that Progenitor has already infected everyone, but wasn't able to actually do anything until it's host died, which then essentially turns itself into the Tyrant virus. And once that host was basically the Walking Dead, those had a great need to continue the spread, which also relates to their desire to bite and feed.
With a thoughtful expression of consideration gracing her face, Cynthia quickly scoops up her notebook full of notes and swiftly walks out of the lab to find her husband, who has gone to check and count the supplies in the upper basement level of the CDC. She will need Edwin's help if her idea is correct.
Jefferson City, Missouri
It has taken them a little over fifteen hours to drive from Jacksonville, Florida to get to Jefferson City, Missouri. Tyreese and Sasha Williams had taken turns driving, stopping at gas stations along the way, as well as a fast food restaurant to get something to eat, before moving on. The two siblings felt no desire or need to rest in a motel or hotel, not when time is of the essence and they need to find them before the Outbreak happens.
"Do you have an idea on where he could be?" Tyreese asks from behind the wheel of the truck. His dark brown eyes, full of such warmth, care, and love for his sister, glances over at her now. Sasha's own dark brown eyes stare out at the streets they drive by, as they head towards the poorer end of the city. These streets mainly consist of the poor, homeless, and desolate buildings.
"He once told me that he lived as a vagabond. Once he was honorably discharged from the military, and awarded a Silver Star, he tried to adjust to life back home," she explains to her brother, "but he couldn't, she shrugs with a frown. "Bob has PTSD and he sunk into a bottle and never surfaced from it again, until the Outbreak," she says. "Then he sobered up, but he became dependent on the booze again, following the loss of his two groups." Sasha is quiet again, as she considers her next words. "Before the Outbreak, he was in Jefferson City living in vacant buildings with other homeless people. He mainly stays near the poor side and he's very likely in one of those buildings near the Jefferson City Bridge," she finishes.
Tyreese takes another right turn at the direction of the GPS. It's quiet again, following what Sasha told him about Bob. While he has never been close to Bob, he does like the other man, especially because of how happy he makes his sister. He was, and is, able to see plainly that Bob and Sasha love each other. That they, if such a thing could exist, are soulmates. The two are very similar to each other, but different in a lot of respects. Never has he seen another man like Bob make his sister smile or laugh like he can. It has been a long time since it has just been the two of them, following their parents death when they were teenagers.
From the time of their parents death, it has been Sasha and Tyreese against the world. Always. They had each other's back and they learned to let others in over time. They never expected to find family again, after the Outbreak, but they had. They found people they depend on and who depend on them. They will find the others again, once they find Bob and Karen. It's just one step at time, but soon, their family will be reunited.
Tyreese pulls to a stop at a district of warehouses, alike to a tent city, with homeless surrounding the buildings. It breaks his heart, to see so many people struggling to live, but unfortunately there isn't anything he can do to help them. They, like many others, will be victims of the Outbreak in three months. It causes a pain in his heart at the thought of so many lives being lost, but he knows he has to concentrate on saving his family.
The big man closes his door, and hears Sasha doing the same, before he locks the truck behind him as his dark brown eyes scan the street. "Do you see him?" He asks, his eyes continuously scan the street as the siblings walk slowly down the streets, searching for Bob.
Eyes of various colors watch them, judging and wary of the two siblings. "Excuse me," Tyreese says to an older woman, around her fifties who sits beneath a tarp canopy by a dumpster. "Have you seen a man, about my sisters height," he gestures to Sasha who is speaking to another person, "with skin color similar to hers. With dark brown eyes and he's either bald or has a light growth of black hair. His name is Bob," he explains as he gives a general description of Bob.
There's realization in the older woman's brown eyes as she listens to Tyreese speak. "Why you lookin' for him?" She asks warily.
"He's my sister's boyfriend," Tyreese says, "The love of her life and he's been a rough shape and we're worried for him. Especially once he stopped responding to our calls," he lies with a true expression of concern and worry for the other man.
The woman is quiet for a moment, before she finally sighs and gestures to the building behind her, "He'll be in. He's been actin' strange the last few days. Decided to suddenly go cold turkey," she says with a frown. "Best find him in the first floor near the back. Prob'ly get 'im to a doctor too," she adds.
"Thank you very much for your help," Tyreese replies gratefully. "Sasha!" He calls to his sister as he turns to look at her. "He should be in there," he points to the building in front of them.
Sasha immediately walks quickly to her brother and the pair step into the warehouse through a side door. It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkened room, but they don't wait long to walk towards the back of the building. They look over each person they pass, searching for the familiar figure of Bob.
"Bob!" Sasha cries out suddenly as she rushes towards his figure and drops to her knees besides his curled up figure, laying on a dirty blanket and his backpack used as a pillow. Bob is flushed, likely from a high fever, that has sweat making his skin glisten. He's in a light sleep, but at the sound of Sasha's he'll, he awakens with squinted eyes from a headache.
"There's that beautiful face," Bob greets with an exhausted smile as he looks up at Sasha. "The woman of my dreams," he whispers with an expression full of love and warmth for the woman above him.
Sasha chokes out a laugh, tears glistening her eyes as she looks down at Bob. "You utter sap," she laughs with tears thick in her voice. "Come on, let's get you help," she says as she carefully begins to stand.
Tyreese quickly goes to Bob's other side and takes most of his weight. "I gotcha brother," he murmurs to his sister's love and doesn't watch to see Sasha grab Bob's bag, as he's already making his way to the truck. "I gotcha, just lean on me. I've got your back," he reassures Bob as he practically carries Bob to the truck.
"You're a good man, Ty," Bob says with a tired smile at the big man.
Tyreese chuckles as he helps Bob into the backseat of the truck, letting him lay across the back of it. Sasha places his bag on the floor of the truck, before she's hopping into the backseat with Bob and letting the man rest his head in her lap. He shuts the door and walks around to the driver side. He hops into the driver side and quickly gets it moving to head to the hospital. He's aware of the dangers of going cold turkey after heavy alcohol use. He wants to get Bob help as quickly as possible.
Houston, Texas
Abraham looks down at the notebook full of names; Eugene Porter, Rosita Espinosa, Josiah Bartlet Jr, Stephanie Forrester, Warren Miller, Rex Lewell, Pamela Moran, Roger Murtaugh, Dirk Pitt, and Josephine Potter. These people are the ones he knew in near the beginning of the Outbreak, months after the initial outbreak, following his family's death.
He has already reached out to Rick. He left a message at his police department, following the mention from the secretary that Rick seemed oddly popular these last couple of days. It makes Abraham wonder if others remember like he does. It's a reassuring thought if they do. It means he won't be alone in preparing for the world going to shit.
Besides the list of names from his original group, is general information he can recall about them. Eugene lives in Dallas, Texas, and is a Genetic engineer for a big wig company. He has no family or siblings. Rosita is a former soldier who served in Iraq. She is retired now and works as a mechanic. She has an older brother who is a Navy SEAL and a nephew from said brother's failed marriage. She currently lives in Shreveport, Louisiana.
Josiah Bartlet Jr. is an economics professor, married to his husband, and lives in New Hampshire. When the outbreak occurred, he was in Baton Rouge visiting his younger sister. Stephanie Adams Foster is a social worker, formerly detective, and currently lives in San Francisco. She is married to her wife and has six children from a past relationship, adoption, and foster care. Warren Miller currently lives in Tucson, Arizona. He is a history teacher for middle school graders and is single. Rex Lewell is an Supervisory Airplane Pilot for Forest Services. He is a retired Air Force Pilot and currently lives in Portland, Oregon.
Pamela Moran is a former cop from Boston, and is now a stay at home mother. She's the mother of two children, and the wife of an Army Captain. She currently lives on the Fort Marshall Base in Charleston, South Carolina. Roger Murtaugh is a Police Detective for the Los Angeles Police Department. He's a husband and father of three children. He currently lives in Los Angeles, California.
Lastly there is Dirk Pitt and Josephine Potter. Dirk is an adventurer. He graduated from the United States Air Force Academy, and attained the rank of Major when he served in Afghanistan and Iraq. He is the father of twin children from a past relationship, and is currently married to a Congresswoman. He lives in Austin, Texas. Josephine Potter has a doctorate degree in neurobiology from Harvard University, and is a neurobiologist. She is married with a child and lives in Sacramento, California.
All of this information was gleaned from their time together as a group. When there's nothing to really talk about together, besides your past to keep you preoccupied, you become real close to other people.
Abraham's first group had been another family to him. Seeing them die, for a crusade that ended up not meaning anything, makes him desire to see them all get a second chance to survive longer than they had. This time, he knows the truth and how to survive. He can keep his wife, who he's still furious with, from getting their children killed. He can keep the other's alive too. He's still contemplating whether he should reach out to them. What if they don't remember? They will only think he's some crazy that got a hold of their number.
He taps his pen against the notepad as he considers his options. He's already got a large shipment of supplies ordered, which should get to his house over the next couple of weeks. For now, he'll spend more time with A.J. and Becca. The kids have been warming up to him again, like they had before. When he came back from his time in the Army, fighting a war that left his hands stained, he'd been a different man, an angry man. Over the years during the Outbreak, he had gotten better at managing his temper and rage.
"Daddy!" Becca calls through the door. Her voice is still a bit timid, but it's clear that a smile is on her face as she waits for his answer.
"Yes honey?" Abraham replies with a fond smile.
"Will you come and play with A.J. and I?" She asks sweetly. "We want you to play Hide and Seek but need more people," Becca explains.
Abraham chuckles as he tosses the pen on the notepad. Putting the pad into the drawer, he closes it and then locks it with a key he puts in his pocket. He doesn't trust his wife not to go snooping through his things in an attempt to find some proof that will give her a reason to leave him. Standing from his office chair Abraham opens the door and looks down at his daughter with a grin.
"I would love nothing more than to play with you and your brother," he replies as he takes the hand she holds out and allows her to drag him to the backyard so be can play with her and her brother.
Charming, California
Aside from leaving Charming in his rear view mirror, following the burial of his father, Riley has never truly considered that he would ever have to go back to his hometown. His step-mother, the only woman he has ever truly considered to be his mother, had been desperate to get his brother's out of Charming and away from the life that had already begun to suck Riley in. The last time he had seen his mother alive, was just a few weeks before her brutal murder.
It was the only thing he could think about as he drove west down the highway, back towards Charming and the place he had left behind following his mother's final wish. He recalls meeting his mother at the park a two weeks before she died. His father and grandmother Gemma had taken Abel, Thomas, and Harry from her by then. They had tried to keep him from her, but the fights that followed tended to be apocalyptic, between him and his father.
Meeting his mother that day, Riley had no idea what he was walking into at the time. He didn't know about the secrets she would share or that he would never see her again following that visit. The only thing he knew was that she was fucking terrified.
His mother pulls him in a tight hug as soon as Riley is in grabbing distance. The security and warmth that he feels in the arms of his mother brings tears to his eyes. The sixteen-year-old wraps his free arm, the one that isn't holding the twenty-one month old Harry, around his mother, and hugs her just as tightly. "Hey Mama," he whispers with rapidly blinking eyes as he fights the tears that want to fall.
"Hey baby," his mother whispers in reply. She gently pulls away from her oldest son and scans him with her warm brown eyes. "You look tired," Tara says with a sad smile as her thumb softly traces the growing stumble on her oldest son's cheek.
"Guess that tends to happen when I'm being the parent to my brother's," Riley replies with a bitter twist of his lips in a half-hearted smile.
"How are you doing baby?" Tara questions in concern. She holds out her arms for Harry, who willingly reaches for his mother. Mother and son cuddle each other as Tara looks at her oldest son. Her own fear is pushed to the side for the moment as she concentrates on the well-being of her boy.
"I'm fine Mama," he reassures her with a small smile. "What did you call me to the park for?" Riley asks with curiosity and confusion. From the right, on the playground, Abel and Thomas play together, oblivious to the seriousness that is occurring between their mother and older brother.
Tara sighs heavily as she takes a seat on the bench behind them. She gently pats the table across from her, quietly requesting him to take a seat. Harry falls asleep blissfully in his mother's arms, feeling love and comfort resting against her shoulder. Tara's lovely brown eyes look at her son with some trepidation. She's been Riley's mother for nearly ten years, and what she's about to tell him, she knows she's going to bring him into danger doing so. She has no other choice, he's the only one that Jax will believe, if Riley tells this information to. The other would have been Opie, had he not disappeared on them five years ago.
"There are things you don't know. Things your father doesn't know," Tara begins as she finally gets the nerve to speak.
"About?" Riley asks with a raised eyebrow. His green eyes look into her brown eyes with patience.
"Gemma," she replies with a frown. Gemma's secrets tend to always promise a bloody ending. "And JT's death."
Riley only ever met JT Teller once, he had been told. The man had died a month after his birth, but there were pictures of his paternal grandfather holding him in his arms. Riley knows that his father loved John "JT" Teller. Riley had read the manuscript, at his father's insistence, that held the deceased man's past hopes and wishes for the club and his remaining son.
"What is this?" Riley questions, as his mother's shaking hands push a thick manila envelope to his side of the rickety table.
"These are copies of letters from a woman named Maureen Ashby, she knew JT. The two had an affair and a child together," Tara explains as her tired brown eyes appear to study her oldest son for a long quiet minute, searching for something on his face, surprise perhaps. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she doesn't find any of the expected emotions.
Riley doesn't have the energy to attempt any feign surprise for his mother. He has known about Maureen and Trinity Ashby about as long as his father has. His father discovered the news around the same time Thomas had been kidnapped.
The older man had needed someone to vent to and telling his oldest son, someone he trusted not to betray his trust, about his secret half-sister, had apparently seemed like a good idea.
"These prove Gemma's involvement in JT's death." That, unsurprisingly, wasn't that shocking. Gemma had a hand in nearly everything that went down with SAMCRO. Why should her husband's death be any different? She is someone that Riley has learnt quickly that he can't trust her, even as her own grandson. Being her flesh and blood only went so far, as long as you remained useful.
"You haven't told dad about these?" Riley asks as he flips through the letters carefully.
"Your father isn't ready to know and he will never believe the truth if it comes from me." Riley gnaws on the bottom of his lip at his mother's words. He knows it's true. His father would never believe her, not after the fake pregnancy and miscarriage debacle that she has pulled not too long ago. "Gemma thinks she has all the copies. She gave some of the originals to your father."
"Some of them?" Riley asks.
"She only gave him the ones that implicated Clay," his mother replies. Riley honestly isn't surprised to hear those words. Of course she would have done that. Gemma would never implicate herself if she can easily pin it on someone else.
"Why are you giving these to me?" Riley asks again with a frown as he puts the letters back into the envelope they came in.
"You are the only one, besides me, that knows what Gemma is," Tara says in response. It is unfortunate that her oldest son has seen what his grandmother is truly like.
As unfortunate as it is, Riley does know Gemma. What is worse is that he understands Gemma. He does not look at her with love and adoration, not the way his father does, because he knows what and who she is. She is a mother and grandmother, yes. She loves her children and grandchildren fiercely, whether he ever actually accepts that love or not. However, behind the loving mother and grandmother facade is a ruthless killer who will burn the world to the ground to keep what is hers.
Riley can understand that.
He has done some not so morally right or legal things in an effort to protect his family.
He also knows that he can be just like her when the situation calls for it.
That doesn't mean he condones it. No matter what circumstances lead to those situations.
"You are the only one who can give your father the truth when he is finally ready to hear it." He will also be the one with a target on his back when Gemma goes looking for retaliation, but he is willing to do this for his mother. For the woman who has helped raise his for more than half his life, he will do this for her.
"These letters aren't the only reason you brought me here." There is something else. He can see it clear across her face and her expressive eyes. She appears to be having an internal battle on whether or not she wants to tell him this information.
"I've been trying to get your brother's away from Charming. I've done things that I never thought I would do for that purpose." Riley knows exactly what she means. Protecting your family can steer you down a very dark road and it can make you do things you never would have contemplated in different circumstances.
"Dad will forgive you." If he can forgive Wendy for nearly killing Abel, and forgive Teagan for abandoning them when he was a toddler, then he can forgive his mother for creating and destroying an imaginary one. "It's going to take time, but he'll get there."
"I don't want his forgiveness. I just want the boys to be safe. I have tried so hard and for so long to get them out of this life." The tears streaming down her face and the raw emotion in her voice tell Riley exactly how defeated his mother is feeling. No matter how hard she attempts, she doesn't believe she will be the one to save his younger brother's. "If I can't get them out, if something happens to me, I need you to do it for me baby."
Riley is aware that she knows he's already been sucked into this life and that it's nearly impossible to escape once it's sucked you in. Since he turned fifteen, he became one of the youngest Prospects in the Club, raised to take the throne as President after his father steps down. His father had been the proudest he's ever seen him.
"Mom, nothing is going to happen to you." He puts as much strength and belief as he can behind his words. Riley hopes that his mother will believe him and hopes he can believe them himself.
"You're the only one who can possibly understand what I'm trying to do." Riley does understand, he just can't see why she thinks he is the last resort. That he is the only one that can do this.
"You were raised in the Club honey, you're a Prospect, you have seen firsthand the damage it can cause to others."
He has seen it. All the death and destruction. He has watched the weight that increasingly wore on his father and mother. He has seen how it continues to drag them down. He sees the toll it has taken on his parents. He has felt the toll it has already taken on him, and what it will take on his brothers, if they don't get out while they can.
"I'm not asking you to turn on your father or the Club. I will never ask that of you. I know how close you are with him." They both know that Riley will and could never betray his father. The bond he and his father have is something that can't be explained in words. Father and son, best friends, and confidants.
Riley is the outlet that his father needs when he has to get his head out of the club, Charming, and the worries of where Uncle Opie is, even after five years. Riley depends on his father when he needs to get his head out of impending fatherhood, being a newlywed husband, an emancipated adult, and essential parent to his siblings when their own parents can't be there. They keep one another sane, though they haven't exactly been doing a great job of it lately.
"I'm only asking you to take care of your brothers if I'm not around to do it anymore." Riley's entire body freezes at the sight of a stack of papers placed on the table in front of him, the words, The Last Will and Testament, is blatantly clear across the top. His mother is not talking about if something happens to her, she is talking about when, as if it is already set in stone.
"I know I shouldn't ask this of you baby. I know that you're only…God, you're only sixteen. I know I shouldn't be putting this on you. But, you, Riley, you are the only one I can trust. I know you love your father and I know how much you love your brothers. How much you're willing to do for them."
"What do you need me to do?" If there is any way that he can help his mother, he will do it in a heartbeat. Especially if it means keeping them safe.
"If they stay in Charming, if they grow up in this life, it only will end one way. It will only end in blood and violence. It ends with you and your brother's becoming killers or being killed. You've already been touched by the Club's twisted darkness," she says with regret, "But your brother's haven't. I don't want them to, before they even have a chance to live their lives." Tears blur her vision as she holds Harry tighter against her. Chocolate brown eyes look to where Abel and Thomas innocently play together. "It means they live in fear. I don't want that for them."
"I don't want that for them either." It was the last thing he wanted for his brothers. What he wanted for his future child. Tristen was only two months pregnant, and already Riley worries about what kind of father he'll be. "I know dad doesn't want that life, not for the boys," he says as he too watches his baby brothers play together. "Dad was talking about getting them out – "
"After Opie disappeared, and after your father took his place at the head of the table…" Becoming President of not only the charter, but of the entirety of the Sons of Anarchy, came with more than just power, it came with a burden that his dad and the rest of the family weren't ready to take on. "Things changed. He won't get out. I know what I'm asking you to do is dangerous. I know it will make your grandma Gemma see you as an adversary —"
"I've been at war with Gemma since I was a positive mark on Teagan's pregnancy test," Riley asserts humorlessly. Gemma had despised Teagan, and she certainly didn't approve of any child of hers. Riley's honestly surprised she approves of and loves his baby brothers, given the fact that she didn't like Wendy and doesn't like Tara. Then again, Gemma still hates Riley's birth mother, for reasons he's never really understood, mainly because the two women seem uncannily alike to each other. Perhaps that was why they butted heads so often.
"I'm not afraid of Gemma."
"That's why you are the one who has to do this. I tried getting Wendy's help, but Gemma got to her." Riley sneers at the name. Wendy has always been spineless and susceptible to outside influence, even before the drugs took control of her life. "I know you will put yourself in Gemma's line of fire for your brothers," Tara says with a grateful and sorrowful smile.
"I'm willing to put myself in anyone's line of fire for my brothers," He will do anything for them. He loves his brothers. "And for you or dad," he adds with a weary smile.
"I know you are. I know that," Tara reassures her son with a smile. Riley has already tried, over the last few years, to talk her into leaving Charming with his baby brothers. He wants them away from the Club and the life it entails as much as she does. "I need you to take them. If I am injured or killed, I need you to take care of them. I want you to get your brother's out of Charming. Take them somewhere safe."
Riley looks at his mother, green eyes sad and tired, and far too old for his age. Already his eyes show an old soul who has seen too much. "I will Mama, I'll keep them safe and I'll protect them."
"Save the boys, Riley," his mother pleads with wide brown eyes that shimmer with tears. A heart wrenching sob tears out of his mother, making him flinch. "Promise me."
"I promise."
"I promise." Riley echoes from his memory as he drives on his motorcycle. Once it had been his father's spare bike, but he had gotten it following his suicide.
As he passes the wooden sign welcoming him to Charming, he hopes that his mother, wherever she is, knows that he has kept his promise. He had gotten his brother's out of Charming. It may have only been a few towns over, but he got them out, even if it meant causing contention between him and his father. It had only gotten worse with the tension between him and Tristen, when he made them move to a house his mother had left in her Will that had once belonged to her grandparents, in this new town. Add the fact that his father had been letting Wendy hang around, and for months there was unhappiness around, until Tristen demanded they go to Charming to have their son.
Riley only has a few pictures of his father holding his son, following his birth. It is sadly ironic that his son also experienced the same thing he did, having only gotten to meet his grandfather once, before his death, with only a picture as visible proof.
His life is a fucked up mess and it's about to get worse, he thinks as Teller-Morrow garage comes into view.
Author Note: This chapter was a long time in the making and was a pain in the ass the whole time too. Believe me, for the last year, just about, I fought with this chapter to get it written. Constantly going back to it, erasing, writing, and rewriting it. I'm still not exactly thrilled with it, but I don't want to keep you all waiting. So I hope you enjoy it.
This chapter takes place a day after they've awoken. Every chapter after this will be moving a day forward. I do apologize for any grammatical errors, I did what I could, but I just wanted to get it posted. I'll likely go back to fix any errors later, when I feel like it.
However, the good news about this chapter taking so long, is that I have essentially planned out the next eight chapters out. It's just the determination and time to write them that may or may not become an issue. I hope the next chapter won't take nearly as long, considering I basically have it outlined and partially written out already.
Anyways! I hope everyone is safe, wearing masks, and in good health!
Reviews are always appreciated! XD
TheWeepingRaven