Hope County Crusade

by Omegas Prime

America Jones is the newest resident of Hope County as well as the newest deputy of the Sheriff's Department. Tough, religious, and the right amount of practical. She'll build up a resistance to fight back against Eden's Gate. May God have mercy on her soul. May God have mercy on EVERYONE.

8. The King of the Skies

The drive to Grace's home was a silent one. The afghan veteran was just tending to her own weapon, checking the magazine, adjusting the stock, calibrating the sight, and making sure the barrel was clean. America just watched the road, keeping an eye out for Peggie ambushes. In the back, Boomer was splayed on the seat napping, his belly exposed and his tongue hanging out. Seeing him from the rearview mirror made her smile and lighten her anxiety.

After a while the silence was finally getting to her and so she tried to small talk with Grace.

"So, Grace . . ."

"Just warning you now, not much of a small talker." She said instantly.

'Well shit.' America sighed internally.

"C-can I just say that I saw you on TV for the Olympics. You were amazing!"

"Thank you."

The silence returned. Her short reply made America want to groan in awkwardness. So much for breaking the ice. This would take time to get used to.

"How'd you know Boomer's family?" She tried again. Pointing her thumb to the back where Boomer was napping.

"My Pops was friends with Rae-Rae's dad. They served together. When I was young he used to take me to their farm and would let me practice shooting there."

That was a good, long response. More than she expected!

"You're new to Hope County, aren't ya Deputy?" Grace asked, much to America's surprise.

"Uh, yeah. I am. Just moved here three days ago. Why?"

"Lived here my whole life. Know almost everyone." She finished her rifle and set it aside to work on her 1911 pistol next. "How long ya been a Deputy?"

"Same amount. Three days."

Grace let out a low whistle. She pulled off the slide and examined it. "Did you even get a first assignment before this?"

". . . I helped arrest Joseph Seed." That sentence made the soldier stop what she was doing and look straight at the Deputy. "I cuffed him . . . and started all this."

"You were there, huh?" There was no judgment in her voice. Just understanding.

"Yeah." America said quietly.

"This ain't your fault, Deputy." Grace assured. Her statement unexpected and out of nowhere.

America didn't look at Grace. She was afraid to look.

"Maybe. But sometimes I wonder . . ."

'I wonder if Joseph was right.' America couldn't say those words out loud. The words he whispered to her just before she put the cuffs on him. 'Sometimes the best thing to do is walk away. Could I though?'

"Trust me Deputy, don't wonder. You don't want to go down that road." Grace said resolutely. She went back to working on her guns. "Believe me, things were shit here before Joseph kicked things into overdrive. You just took off the lid to an already boiling-over pot. One way or another the cult was gonna be dealt with and this is the hand God dealt us."

America rubbed her tattoo. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Grace's handgun clicked into completion and looked up. "We're here."

The Deputy braked the car and shifted the gears to park it. They got out and found the skeletal remains of what used to be the Armstrong Residence. America could only guess what the house used to look like, but judging from its perimeter size, it had to be a very big, two, maybe three-story house. Now it was just a crispy shell of black wood and ash, its remains still smoking.

America felt pains of loss and sadness. The sight reminded her of the new house she lost not long ago. Destroyed by the peggies in their goal of capturing her. But she knew that what she lost was nothing compared to what Grace lost.

Her house was not a childhood home. Grace's house was.

"So, why did you want to come here?"

"Got some things the Resistance could use. Figured I could contribute more to the cause then just my shooting skills."

Grace walked ahead without the two and stopped a couple feet from the house. She looked up and stared at her once-domicile with a blank expression. Walking up to her side America could not tell what emotions the soldier-woman was feeling but judging from Boomer's sympathetic whines she could guess Grace was feeling a ton of inner turmoil. This was her family home. Her dad's home. A place of good and bad memories burnt down by soulless people that didn't care about others, their history and their feelings.

"Do you need a minute?" America asked.

A moment past and she answered. "No, lets go."

She kicked down a piece of destroyed wall and walked through the burnt-out husk of a house. Both America and Boomer looked at each other and followed after her.

They walked to the end of the house to a room that was no different from the rest: burnt and destroyed, but this actually had something intact, a boiler.

Grace kneeled down. "Help me with this." She said.

America did as she was asked and helped Grace lift up a piece of burnt floor. Grunting, they lifted it off and threw it aside with a loud clatter. Looking down there was a hatch connected to a concrete floor.

"Is this a bunker?"

"My Pop's and I liked to call it the Foxhole. It's locked with a code that only he and I knew."

Grace typed a 6-digit code on the keypad. When she finished there were a couple clanks and a hiss coming from the door. The hatch unlocked, opening it revealed a ladder that led down a fifteen foot drop. Grace was the first to climb down it.

"Boomer, stay hear." America commanded.

Boomer wagged his tail and planted his butt on the ground. "Bark!"

America followed Grace down the Foxhole. When they reached the bottom America was surprised by how homey the bunker was.

It was spacious, enough room the four people could stand side by side and walk. It had proper wood flooring and was furnished all over. There was a kitchen in the far back, with an oven, microwave and boxes of food. Tables and shelves that held documents, maps, more supplies, and other miscellaneous items.

America was dragged from her observations when she heard a click come from Grace's direction. The woman was standing at a table activating a messaging machine on it.

"Grace, you there?!" A panicked woman said on the recorder. "Pick up! Argh! You hear this get the hell outta there, you understand? Peggies are huntin' people just like you. People they know can handle a gun. They come in the middle of the night and burn their homes to the ground. I know you wanna stand up to them, but please. I'm begging you. Don't! You need to run! God, I hope you get this in time."

The machine beeped, signaling its end. Grace walked away from the machine, ignoring its message and moved on like she hadn't heard it. Rounding the corner and walking into a small hallway that led to another room of the same length as the first.

The first thing to catch America's eyes was the rack of guns displayed on the wall. Various rifles and shotguns lined up evenly for easy access. Underneath it, a table covered with ammo and smaller guns such as pistols and submachine guns. Grace went to the wall immediately, grabbing all the AR rifles, and started stuffing them in a duffle bag that she got from the table.

Walking further in, America realized that this part of the bunker was a bedroom. To the right was a simple bunk bed, with navy blue sheets and white pillows. Something you would see at basic training. On the bed was a large teddy bear, a classic country guitar, and a baseball and mitt.

"Deputy, you mind emptying that safe over there." She nodded to the safe sitting on the floor opposite to the gun wall. "The code is 6-7-12."

"Sure thing." America knelt down and turned the knob to unlock the safe. When it opened, she found several stacks of money, five-hundred dollars each. By the time she emptied the safe contents into her bag she had $8,000 total. While rummaging through the safe she also found an antique watch in a velvet case. Looking at it, it bore the effigy of a bald eagle on the back, with the inscription "To Henry: My Saving Grace."

"Grace?" The soldier looked down at her. "You want this?" She held up the watch.

She stared at the item a bit longer than expected. "Yes, please." She held out a shaky hand and took the watch.

America looked at her curiously. The soldier-woman's eyes were glued to the golden watch. There was a slight shake in her hand. America would have asked what was wrong, but she assumed Grace wouldn't answer. Much to her surprise, she did.

"It was my Dad's. My Mom got it for him after his service."

A little taken aback by her unprovoked words, all America could say was, "Oh."

"With the car gone, the house gone, I don't have anything left of them . . . except this."

When America found Grace, sniping Peggies from that church bell tower, she thought she found someone that hadn't been hurt by the cult yet. But no, that was her mistake. Grace was very much hurt. She had nothing now. No home, no job, just a gun and a lot of bullets to put in peggie heads. Grace was as much a casualty of this war as anyone else. She just refused to die. At least not yet.

Seeing such a strong warrior like this broke her heart.

Reaching out, she grabbed her hand. Grace looked up from the watch and at the Deputy's green eyes.

"You're not alone. I got your back. All of Fall's End has your back."

She wasn't alone.

Grace looked back at the watch and smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're right." She put on the watch and nodded in thanks.

The two finished up packing. All the guns were loaded into a dufflebag, ready to be taken to Fall's End. The money America stashed in her pack.

"Anything else you want to take, Grace?" America motioned to all the other items in the room.

"No."

"Ya sure?"

Grace looked in the direction of the bed. She focused on the nightstand mainly and walked toward it. She scooped up a piece of paper, skimmed it, and pocketed it in her shirt. America didn't get a good look at what it was, but it had some nice cursive writing on it.

The two left the bunker, with Grace heading out first. America tailed behind. Just as America reached the top, introduced to pure sunlight, she heard Grace curse.

"Shit."

America looked up to see what Grace cussed at. She was welcomed by the sight of five guns pointing at her.

"Shit."

Five peggies surrounded the two. Three of them looked like the usual grunts, but one was a Flamebearer and the other a VIP.

"Hello, Grace. Deputy Jones." The VIP greeted with open arms.

"Do I know you?" Grace said with her arms raised. America did the same.

"My name is Roger Barbs." He introduced. "We don't know each other personally, but I do know the Deputy."

"Me?" America asked in confusion. Her eyes scanned around for Boomer, but she could not see any trace of the dog. There was no evidence of blood or a fight, so that was a good sign that Boomer was alright. The peggies also seemed unaware of Boomer.

"You undid my work. Stealing the Widowmaker from John's possession." He moved away some of his long hair to show off his missing ear, carefully avoiding grazing his thorn crown. Still streams of crusted blood fell down from a gaping, dark-red hole.

"It wasn't his to begin with." America said lowly, not feeling any sympathy at all for the thief.

"You're right. It's the Father's and no one steals from the Father without suffering the consequences." Roger pointed a shaky hand at the red hole in his head.

"And no one steals from good, honest, hard-working folks like Mary May. People like me stop bad men like you. Not anyone's fault but your own for siding with psychos like the Seeds."

"You damn sinner!" The flamebearer ordered with his deep voice, raising his flamethrower.

"Easy, Juggs. Easy. I'd watch what you say around us, Deputy. You've caused us more then enough problems. It's because of you that the Collapse is upon us." He said in calm fury.

America shot him a dirty glare.

"We were supposed to await a party of our people to bring you in chains."

"We saw 'em—sent us ahead." Grace said sarcastically. "They didn't want to slow us down, what with being dead and all."

Roger's glare intensified, causing his thorn crown to pierce his head more, making small streams of blood.

"So many of us dead. By your hands," his eyes scowled at America and he pointed "and yours. Especially yours." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter anymore. They died in the name of the Father. You still came here, and you got all our stuff for us. Thank you."

"My stuff." Grace said tensely.

"Your stuff is the Father's. We've established that. And when John is done with the both of you, you'll agree." He motioned his head for the two grunts to get their things.

America and Grace kept their hands up and waited for the peggies to get close. The cultists approached with the guns still raised, inching slowly toward them. When they were within arms reach, they went to grab for the bags on them. The second they removed a hand from their weapon to reach the bags, the two women struck.

America grabbed the peggie's rifle and tugged it forward, away from pointing at her. The cultists stumbled and then he was struck in the chest by America with the stock of his own gun. She got around him and put the body of his rifle against his neck, choking him and using him as a human shield.

Grace struck at the same time America did. Her cultist had a pistol, a 1911. Easily wrenching it from his hands, she pointed her own gun at Roger, while pointing her new gun at the jugular of another cultist.

It all happened so fast. The peggies were shouting sporadically now. Barking at the two resisters to release their hostages and put down the guns. Normally, the cult wouldn't have a problem killing one of their own to achieve their goal, but John and Joseph wanted these two alive, so they couldn't just open fire. Especially the flamebearer, who was too close to everyone to unleash his holy fire.

"Don't make this anymore difficult then it has to be ladies." Roger tried to reason.

"Fuck you!" Grace waved the gun pointing at Roger and pressed her stolen gun further into the peggie's throat.

"You lot put down your guns!" America tried to order. "We'll let you go alive." She struggled to hold the cultist, he was trying to relieve the gun from his neck.

"We can't do that now. John ordered us to take you both. And I can't fail a second time."

"Well, John's gonna be awfully disappointed today then." America said.

Roger grinded his teeth. "You can't hold this position forever. We outnumber you and sooner or later you won't hold onto those hostages for long."

"Then come at us!" America challenged. "I know you don't give a shit about your own people. Just shoot already."

"Don't think we—"

Suddenly the rifle used to choke America's shield went off and shot the third grunt. He fell back dead, chest cavity full of holes. His body locked up and inadvertently squeezed the trigger of his own gun shooting behind Juggs. The bullets impacted against the boiler and made it explode and rocket high into the sky.

The resulting explosion caused the flamebearer to stumble forward and push Grace's hostage. Grace shot the cultist on reflex and was pushed down herself as well. Roger then charged at Grace and tried to restrain her.

America had lost her grip and now she and the Peggie were fighting for the gun. Tugging, pulling, pushing, they thrashed against each other for dominance. Kicking her foot out, she knocked the man's leg down making him kneel. With him at chest level, America grabbed underneath the stock and smashed it against the man's head several times. Getting tired of being smacked, the cultist lurched forward and bit her finger. America screamed out and loosened her hands a little, allowing the peggie to toss the gun away and tackle the woman to the ground.

"Don't just lie there you idiot, help me!" Roger desperately screamed at the flamebearer. Grace was a highly trained soldier, not weak in any physical way. Roger was a former grocery store clerk, who hardly visited the gym. The only reason Roger was able to hold her down as long as he had was because of the Bliss enhancements all VIPs get. But even then, Grace was getting the better of him and needed the burly flamebearer to help.

The flamebearer groaned, disoriented, but did as told. He crawled toward Grace and grabbed her arm which was punching the shit out of Roger's face, breaking his nose.

Just when the VIP thought he would get her, a grey blur leaped over the flamebearer's back and tackled him off of Grace. Roger saw snapping teeth and hot slobber in his vision. A mid-size dog on top of him barking aggressively and trying to wrap his jaws around Roger's neck.

"Somebody get this dog off'a me!" He shouted scared.

With her right arm free now, Grace struck the flamebearer three time in the face. Cushioned mostly by his leather mask, but he felt most of the force behind each hit. He tried to get on top of her, restrain her with his weight, but she was nimble and managed to get out from under him.

America and the cultists were back on their feet and they were slamming each other into the wall. America kicked him, pushing him against the charred wall and threw a punch. He ducked out of the way and tried to punch back, but she kept her arms up and blocked it. Her arms shot out like guns, jabbing the guy in the face and upper body. They didn't hurt as much as her full-force punches, but they did enough to make the guy hurt every time he moved.

Roger was still tussling with Boomer, holding the hound back by pressing his forearm against its neck. He could feel its hot breath on his face and so he tried shutting its trap by punching it. Boomer whined a little but did not relent. He managed to get around the VIPs arm and bite the guy's neck.

The flamebearer tried to get his flamethrower back, he was more fireproof the soldier-woman, so he figured he could burn her at these quarters. But Grace was playing keep away with his weapon. Every time he tried to pull it back to him by the hose, she would kick it or grab it herself.

Tired of playing games with the pyromaniac, Grace took the flamethrower and severed the hose from the weapon in one clean swoop with her karambit knife. She then kicked it away to the far corner and charged the big man. Angry, the flamebearer charged as well. When they collided the flamebearer felt something sharp in his back, but he ignored the pain and grabbed the woman in a big bear hug. He lifted her off the ground and tried to squeeze her. Grace yelled out in pain, but she grit her teeth and swung her knife high in the air and brought it down on top of the man's head. He went silent and a few seconds later he fell dead. Grace fell to the ground coughing for air.

Roger had grabbed Boomer's maw just before they could really sink into his throat. The dog drew blood around his neck but did not pierce anything vital. Slowly, he pulled the dog away from his neck and with all the unnatural strength he had, tossed Boomer aside. He then spun around on the ground and kicked the dog just as he tried pouncing on the VIP again.

Roger saw by the corner of the destroyed room, near the window, the flamebearer's flamethrower and he made a dash for it. He succeeded and got the fire spewing weapon, which was still full of fuel. He turned around just in time to see America pull up her opponent, hold his arm at an uncomfortable level and reach around his chin.

"Stop!" He ordered. America, Boomer, and Grace looked up at him, everyone was breathing heavily. "Release him, sinner. It's over."

America glared, but she didn't let go. The last remaining grunt was puffy and purple, blood was leaking from his ears, nose, and mouth. His eyes were swollen shut from the beating the Deputy gave him.

"I said, let him go!" He pointed the flamethrower at her.

"Sure." America said curtly and twisted the man's neck, killing him.

"No!" He watched as the body of his last man fell down dead. Roger was the only survivor. "You're gonna pay for that." He growled.

America raised her hands in the air. "That's why I did it. You won't kill me, so I killed him regardless. One less Peggie to hurt people."

"We hurt people?" He spat on the ground. "What have you been doing? What did you just do? Killing, bullets, blood, that's your only answer to us. All we wanna do is save people and here you are stopping us at every turn."

"Just shut up." America said tiredly. "I've heard all this nonsense before from less pathetic bastards. You're just a two-bit thief, Roger. An opportunist who just wants to FEEL important. Anything that comes out of your mouth is more crap then anything the Seeds can come up with. And that's Grade-A bullshit."

"Shut up!"

"Honestly, I'm surprised the Seeds even consider you "very important." You're a sycophant for God's sake. Everything you do is to just suck someone's dick and be praised for it. Because you feel inadequate. Boring. And the Seeds make you feel special . . . for stealing a truck and lying to a woman. Without them you'd know just how pathetic and slimy of a person you really are."

"Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP! Hah, hah, forget it. Forget what John wants, what Joseph wants. I'm gonna roast you alive, just so I don't have to look at your sin-spewing mouth ever again. John may kill me, but I'll die a martyr among my peers, who saved them from the slithering SNAKE that is—"

*SPLAT!*

Roger would never finish that sentence or speak in general ever again. The boiler that had been launched into the air had come down and landed on top of Roger, flattening him like a pancake and splattering his blood everywhere. Even getting a little on the three fighters.

"Well," America said, wiping off the blood from her cheek, "that happened."

"How did you know that was gonna land on him, Deputy?" Grace asked, wiping off the blood as well.

"I didn't." She replied.

"Now that's what I call a miracle. Let's get out of here."

While Boomer was licking himself clean of blood, America and Grace collected the cultist guns and loaded all of their possession in the truck. When they were finished, they decided to just rest a little before going on their way.

"You fought good back there, Deputy." Grace complimented.

"Thanks. You as well, Grace."

"I ain't ever seen anyone fight like that since my days in the Army. Who trained you?"

"My Mom. She was a Ranger."

"An Army Ranger?" America nodded. "No shit? You were never part of the military?"

"No. She didn't want me in the military—dealing with the same shit she did. But I wanted to serve my country somehow. I figured this was the next best thing." She showed off her badge.

"She trained you well. Though it seems a bit rusty."

"My mom only gave me some training, not all. Just enough to protect myself and be deadly. Her training is actually mixed with my boxing too."

"Trained by an Army Ranger and is a boxer too." Grace chuckled. "I can see why you can knock out a man with just one or two punches."

America chuckled with her. They both stopped laughing when they heard the radio crackle. Someone was calling for help.

"Hello? Is anyone listening? If you ain't a Peggie, then please help! My name's Nick Rye. The peggies are trying to steal ma plane. Please, my wife's pregnant and they're tryin' to-*RATATATATAT*"

The radio went dead after a series of gunshots went off.

"Nick . . . I thought he and Kim would'a been outta here by now." Grace said.

"Come on! They need help!" America quickly got in the truck.

"Move over, I know the way." Grace said and took the wheel.

Boomer hopped in the back just in time before they sped off. The truck's wheels kicked up dirt and dust as Grace drove at 50 miles an hour.

They arrived at the Rye Family Airstrip just in time to see a helicopter explode and spin to the ground in a fiery blaze.

Grace made a hard left and drove onto the strip and headed straight for the main hangar. They saw a lone man fighting off the peggies from the safety of his hanger, but he was outmatched and outgunned. Grace evened the odds by plowing through a few cultists before skidding to a halt, crushing a peggie's head under a tire.

The peggies watched the truck skid to a halt, creating a dust cloud that smoke screened the whole vehicle. They looked at each other and raised their weapons ready for anything. That's when Boomer pounced out of the cloud and leaped onto a cultist, biting into his throat. The man screamed and begged his friends to help him, but before they could America ended their lives with a couple shots from Judgement.

Grace got out of the truck and lied on top of the hood. She activated her green laser sight and locked on to her targets. One shot blew a man's brains out from the back. The scene scared the rest of his friends into a panic and they ran out into the open. America fired Judgement, going all Clint Eastwood on them, Grace unleashed her skills, got three more headshots and Nick emptied his gun removing any peggies from his property.

When all the peggies were dead, and the group could catch their breath, Nick let out a curse and threw his gun to the ground. He then started to kick the dirt and cuss up a storm.

"Damn it! Those peggies took off with my plane! We're trapped! We're fucking TRAPPED! What am I gonna do now?!"

"Nick. Nick! Calm down. Get a hold of yourself."

"Grace? Oh man, I'm ever glad to see you." He ran up and hugged the woman. "You're okay."

"I am. I've been puttin' the screws to the cult. But what are you doing here, Nick? I thought you would have been outta here by now."

"I would'a been, but the peggies "Marked" us. They've been stopping us from leaving, trying to get us to join them. John himself showed up here before all this shit happened, preaching about the "Father Joseph." Fuck them! The only father my child is goin' to have is me!"

"John was here?"

"Yeah, ya just missed him. I'm sorry, who're you?"

"Deputy Jones of the Sherriff's Department."

"I heard about you. You're the one causin' all the trouble for John and the cult. You liberated Fall's End!"

"Me and several others."

Nick suddenly invaded her personal space, clapping his hands on her shoulders. "Please, you helped Fall's End, you gotta help me get my plane back!" he shouted pleadingly.

"Sir, sir, breath, calm down." She tried to ease the poor man.

"I'm sorry. I don't like to get emotional." He sniffed and held out his hand. "My names Nick Rye, of Rye and Son's Aviation." They shook hands. "I need my plane back to get my wife out of here or we're beyond fucked."

"The only other place that I know the cult would take your plane, Nick, is the Seed Ranch." Grace suggested.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. It's the only other place nearby that has an airstrip big enough to land her." Nick looked down at the ground ashamedly. "W-would you both go there and get it for me? I would go with you—hell I'd go get it myself—but my wife' due any minute and just—I can't leave her alone, not with the cult lurking around."

"Don't worry Mr. Rye. We'll get your plane back and you and your wife will be outta here in no time."

"Please, Mr. Rye was my father. Call me Nick like everyone else. And thank you, Deputy. You're really saving my skin here."

The three fighters got on the road as soon as possible. America let Grace drive since she knew where the ranch was. While Grace drove America checked her guns, making sure each and every one of them was loaded and cleaned before taking them out to a fight.

"Grace, what can you tell me about this place."

"The Seed Ranch is a large complex. Consists of two building, a chalet and a hangar. It wasn't always in the possession of John Seed. It used the belong to the Kennedys. Probably the richest family in Hope County. Nice family, very welcoming, threw good barbecues, inviting most of the town. Then the Seeds bought them out, practically took all their property for pennies."

"How'd they do that?"

"Same way as everyone else, though I heard the son joined Eden's Gate and tricked his whole family into signing everything over."

"You're kidding." She honestly couldn't believe that.

"It was just a rumor, but considering what's been happening . . ."

She let the thought hang in the air.

Grace stopped the car about a mile and a half from their target location. When asked, Grace said it would be better they go by foot then leave. Loading everything up, the group trekked through the forest and climbed up the high hills.

It would be an hour before they managed to arrive at the Ranch. It was much bigger and nicer then she expected. As Grace said there were two main structures: a large chalet and a huge hangar complete with tower. America sent Boomer ahead to scout out how many peggies were around.

"This place is a fortress." America whispered as she peered through her binoculars. "I already count eight peggies and who knows how many more Boomer'll find."

"I heard a lot of bad things go on inside there. Let's try and not get caught alright?"

"You won't hear me arguing. Boomer's already barked fifteen times and that's only on the outside."

"No howls at least, don't have to worry about hostages. What are you worried about anyway? Didn't you take back Fall's End?"

"You people make it sound like I did it single handedly. I had an army of my own to do it."

"The way people've been talking, you may as well have."

Before America could rebuke her Boomer bounded back toward them. From her total Boomer barked 22 times.

"Good work boy." She rubbed his head. "We're just here for Nick's plane. Let's get it and get the hell out of here."

"Bark!"

"What?"

"Bark! Bark!" Boomer ran back and forth, looking to them and to the house.

"What's wrong Boomer?" Grace asked.

"I think he wants us to follow him." America deduced.

That seemed to be the case as the dog ran off without orders, stopping a short way to look back and see if he was being followed.

The two women looked at each other before shrugging and followed the mutt.

They chose to creep through the tall grass following Boomer. Moving along the back of the lodge, there appeared to be few who were watching from that direction, probably because that way led to a drop down a steep, rocky hill.

They saw one guy leaning against the wall, blocking their way to the hangar. America threw a rock to distract him. With his back to him, America threw a knife and got him in the back of the neck. He fell forward into the tall grass out of sight.

With the coast clear, they followed Boomer who was waiting for them near a small, rectangular, basement window. He pointed his snout, telling them to look in.

America and Grace got down on the ground and peered inside. At first, they couldn't see anything, it was too dark. Once their eyes adjusted though they could see several people, beaten, bloodied, and chained up. Prisoners of the cult.

"Hostages. A lot of them." Grace said.

Looking around a bit more, America could see that some of them were malnourished, others were severely hurt, and there was dried blood on the stone floor. It wasn't a pretty sight.

"Change of plans, Grace. We're taking this place today."

"What?" Grace turned her head in shock. "Deputy, I want to help these people too, but we're outmatched here, with just the two of us."

Boomer growled.

"Three." The Deputy corrected. "And weren't you just bragging that I could liberate places like these singlehandedly?"

"Weren't you also telling me you had an army last time?"

"We took on those assholes at the church."

"Because we had the home advantage. Positions we could use against them. Here, we're smack dab in the middle of enemy territory."

"Grrrrrr!"

The two looked down at Boomer. The cattle dog was facing away from them and growling at a corner. They could hear people talking and drawing nearer.

"I told you I heard something."

"Fine, fine, we're checking it out ain't we?"

Their eyes widened. Grace and America searched around to hide. The Deputy pointed to the backdoor of the house. Hurrying in, they just narrowly avoided getting seen by the peggies.

"That was close." Grace said.

"Yeah. Thankfully, the house is empty."

The interior of the chalet was just as nice as the exterior. They were standing in a dining room. There was an oaken table and chair set, with a whole bunch of documents and weapons on it. Looking at the papers, they looked like legal documents. America recalled that John was a lawyer and a damn good one too, that's how the cult managed to get so much land.

There was a whole bunch of fine, plush furniture, shelves lined with books of various subjects, rugs from fancy to simple ones, to a full bear-skin rug. Above were chandeliers made from elk antlers and banners baring the Eden's Gate Cross. The center piece of the whole room though, was the fireplace made from fieldstone. On the mantle were skulls of deer, pronghorn and moose, and a gold-plated sniper rifle. Above that, was a framed portrait of the Father, Joseph Seed.

"Hello." Grace said pleasantly. She walked up to the fireplace, slung her rifle back, and took the golden sniper rifle off the mantle. It was an MBP .50, with gold plating. On the barrel of the gun was a square silencer, and on top of the body was a high-powered, long-range sniper scope. It was a hell of a gun, if not a bit flashy.

Hearing the creaking of a door open, Grace swung around, aiming her new rifle. To her annoyance and relief, it was America opening a closet door.

"What are you doing?" Grace whispered frustratingly.

"Looking for a way into the basement, we have to help those people." America insisted.

"No. What we need to do is get Nick's plane and get out of here."

"We can take this place, Grace. We got an army. Those people." She pointed down, indicating the prisoners below. "There have to be more than a dozen people down there. If we free them, get them guns, then we can overwhelm this place."

"And where would we get guns for them?" Grace challenged.

"I don't know. There's a freaking rocket launcher sitting on the table there." Pointing to said weapon. "This house is big, I'm sure we can find something."

"You're grasping at straws, Deputy. We shouldn't—"

"AAAAHHHHH!"

Both spun on their heels, drawing their pistols and pointing them at the second floor. Boomer growled and crouched in a pouncing position.

They looked at each other before silently agreeing to check it out. Entering the second floor, they opened a door to a long hallway, with several different doors. Checking each one, they found mostly barracks for the cultists, but no one inside them.

"Grace." America called over quietly. Motioning for her to check out the room she found. Grace made her way over to America and was surprised to see the surplus of weapons and ammo in the room. That was all the contents in it. Cases of weapons and ammunition that covered the floor and nearly reached to the ceiling.

Suddenly they heard the scream again, coming from the room farthest from them, at the end of the hallway. Now that they were closer, they could tell the scream was distinctly female.

Tiptoeing over to the door and opening it slightly they saw a couple of prisoners tied to X-shaped crosses. A man and a woman. Looking at one of them closely, the woman had her skin peeled off at the hand, showing her nothing but bloody muscle.

Then a Peggie entered their view. "I'm sorry that this had to happen." He apologized darkly, while cleaning a bloody double-edged knife. "But we all must pay the price for our sins."

"H-he just needed food." The woman whimpered.

"That was not your choice to make! You stole food from the righteous followers of the Father. This is just punishment for thieves." He then pointed his knife at the man. "And you, striking a holy man in the defense of this sinner?" He tutted the man. "I'm afraid you must lose something as well." The knife moved downward pointing to the man's genitals. "You're lust made you protect this sinner. If you had repented sooner you would only walk away without skin, now . . ." He approached.

"No . . . NO! Please!"

"Don't hurt him, PLEASE!"

Before the Peggie could even come near, he felt his head get forcefully tugged back and something sharp pierce his neck. Turning his head slightly he saw the cold glare of the infamous Deputy who had been giving the Project so much trouble. It was the last thing he saw before his sight went dark, with his last thought being his incapableness of alerting his brothers of the demon among them.

Grace and America quickly went to untie the prisoners.

"Are you okay?" The Deputy asked.

"No." The woman cried. Once she was freed, she fell to her knees and clutched her bleeding arm. "I am far from alright."

Once Grace released the man he quickly ran to the woman's aid, with a fresh white towel. Wrapping it up to stop the bleeding and making her hiss in pain.

"I'm sorry, we didn't get here sooner." America said dejectedly.

"If you hadn't come now, who knows what would have happened to the both of us. Thank you." The man said. "I'm Keith. This is Helen."

"How many of you are here?" America asked.

"There's more of us down in the basement."

"We saw them." Grace said, but nothing more.

"This whole fucking place is a torture chamber for John. People are always talking about his bunker, but this place is just as bad."

America walked over to a window and pulled back the curtains slightly enough to peek through. There were still peggies outside. One walked past her, patrolling the balcony, none the wiser. The only way they were going to save the people in this place was to take it from the cult's hands. It would not be easy . . . but neither was taking Fall's End.

"How do you want to play this, Deputy?" Grace asked, her new rifle gripped in hand. Her look said that she was willing to do whatever now.

"Keith, Helen, do you know if any of the people down there are in any condition to fight?"

"A lot of them are injured, but yeah. Give them a chance and a gun and they'll fight. Some are Resistance members actually." Keith answered.

"That works for us." Grace said. "There are some weapons in the next room. We take those to them, we got a fighting chance."

"What about Helen? She can't—"

"Yes, I can." Helen grit. She stood up slowly, with a determined look on her face.

"Are you sure, Helen?" America asked concerned. "Your hand is messed up."

"I'll shoot a fucking pistol or something. But I'm not staying out of this. I want those peggies to bleed!"

Both America and Grace looked at each other. They looked back to the two ready.

"Alright. Then we have a plan." America slammed her fist into her palm. "Let's cause some vandalism."

. . .

The windows crashed outward, startling the peggies. They spun around, weapons drawn, but they saw nothing but broken glass on the ground.

As well as two cylindrical cans.

The cans erupted into smoke, causing the peggies' eyes to water and make it difficult to breath. They coughed uncontrollably and rushed to get out of the choking clouds. As soon as they did though they were mowed down by multiple gunfire.

On the balcony, two fighters rushed out, blasting the closest peggies with shotguns. When the balcony was cleared, they went for the radio and disabled it with a spread of buckshot. The snipers situated on the roof of the hangar tower started lining up their shots. One was about to take out a fighter on the balcony, but then his brains were shot out of his forehead.

The other snipers looked to see who just killed their buddy. Grace stood over them, with a 1911 Colt pistol in hand. She fired again, shooting into a peggie's head, then pistol-whipped the last sniper, knocking him over and plummeting to his death. She took out her new rifle and started lining up shots.

America tossed a grenade from behind the chalet's walls. It landed near a truck where three peggies took shelter behind. Exploding, the grenade caused the truck to jump a few inches off the ground and kill the peggies with shrapnel.

Looking down the rifle's sight, America searched for more peggies. Pulling the trigger, she got one peggie in the head, making him crumple to the ground, another in the neck, making him choke to death in front of his friends, and another in the chest. The last one was still breathing, calling out for help.

It was too easy then. Several more peggies rushed to aid their fallen brother, but that left them open and vulnerable to attack. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Peggies literally died left and right trying to save him. In the end, he bled out.

Some of the peggies played it smart and stayed hidden behind cover. Unfortunately, they were thinned out and they made excellent targets for Boomer to sneak up on and maul to death.

"Keith, Helen, how's it in the hangar?"

Keith pumped his shotgun before answering. "Some peggies tried going for the planes. We stopped them though."

Helen double tapped another peggie with her pistol to make sure they were dead. "Won't get air support here, motherfuckers."

Keith looked behind him to see the other three members of their squad do the same as Helen.

"They stopped coming. I think we got all the pilots in the ranch. Do you need assistance, Deputy Jones?"

"No, Keith. You guys stay there and hold the hangar just in case more peggies try to get wings."

"Roger that."

Though they wouldn't get air support, the peggies could still get help by land. Two peggie trucks started speeding up the road. On the backs were fifty-caliber machine guns.

"Grace!"

"I see 'em." Grace spotted the front driver through her scope, clear as day.

Leading the target, she pulled the trigger. The peggie's head exploded, scaring the passengers, and spraying blood all over the interior. The truck swerved and toppled on its side. The truck behind them accidently crashed into it, making it skid further.

America could see the fuel tank on the skidding truck. Using Fall's Ghost, she unleashed a rapid fire of shots, hitting the tank three times perfectly, resulting in a fiery explosion. The second peggie truck crashed through the wreckage and kept moving.

The truck stopped in front of the chalet and the gunner in the back started firing. From the other seats, all the cultists got out and started finding positions to fire from. One of the peggies that got out was a tall fella. Decked out in a lot of body armor, including even a crude helmet, complete with face shield. A chain was wrapped around him and in his large hands was a M-60 LMG.

"Oh shit!" One of the fighters yelled dreadfully. "GOLIATH!"

The combined force of the two machine guns forced the fighters to take cover. Everyone shielded their heads and dropped to the floor. Some were too late and were impacted with numerous rounds. America saw blood explode from bodies and get launched several feet across the room.

"Grace!" America shouted into her radio. "Take out those gunners!"

"On it!" Grace aimed for the gunner in the truck, shooting him in the head.

Grace focused on the goliath next. She fired, but to her shock, the bullet didn't penetrate, instead sparking, and bouncing off his helmet. This attracted the attention of the Goliath and his men. Before Grace could shoot again, he fired on Grace, forcing her into cover.

"I'm pinned down!"

"Retaliate!" America and the remaining fighters opened fire while the cult focused on Grace.

They managed to kill a few more of the peggies but were quickly put back into cover when the goliath fired his gun on them again. The fighters on the balcony were killed by a spray of bullets and one of the fighters near America got his head shredded.

"Fuck!" The Deputy cursed.

"He's advancing!" Someone warned.

"What do we do?!"

"Let's get him with a grenade!"

"No, use the rocket launcher!"

"NO!" America screamed. "He's too close, if any of those goes off we risk getting' the blow back."

"Then what?!"

It was hard to think over the roaring of gunfire and the shouts of the fighters. All America could do was think and look. Her eyes scanned the whole room, looking for something, anything, to give them an edge. Her eyes settled on one of the fighters providing medical care to someone who got shot. She looked right at her med kit.

"Hey! Is that a bottle of rubbing alcohol?"

The fighter looked down at her supplies and nodded wordlessly.

"Throw it here!" The fighter looked at her weird but did as she said.

"What are you going to do with that?" A fighter asked her.

America tore off a shred of her shirt and stuffed it into the glass bottle. "Improvise. Grace, get the guy's attention again." Grace did as ordered and fired again at the man's head. Once again, just leaving an indent in the metal helmet.

Grace ducked back into cover just as the peggie fired on her again. With his attention off her, America jumped up, reeled back her arm and threw the lit bottle. It shattered against the goliath.

At first it did nothing and the peggie just kept coming, but then the flames engulfed him entirely and he started to scream. He then dropped his gun, patted himself all over, flail around, trying to put himself out.

America shouted at the top of her lungs, "EVERYONE OPEN FIRE!"

Every shotgun blasted, every rifle burst, every machinegun roared, and every pistol fired. Grace, from on high, shot every round in her magazine, didn't even bother to aim for the head. America emptied every gun she had, when Judgement was empty, she moved on to the Farmhand, then the Fall's Ghost.

The goliath took every shot, his body jerking with each impact. Finally, America called a cease fire. It was quiet now; gun smoke filled the fresh mountain air.

The peggie fell to his knees. He raised his hands into the air as if he was waiting for an embrace. Until finally he fell down with a thud.

"THE RANCH IS OURS!"

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

. . .

After the battle, America and Grace helped the former captives settle the place. Pointing out strategic positions, defense points, keeping track of remaining ammo and weapons. Any advice to keep them alive and hold this place. The fighters were taking anything cult related and throwing it on pyres, along with the peggie bodies. Many were actually fighting over who would throw in the portrait of Joseph into the fire.

America called Fall's End and informed Mary and Jerome that the Seed Ranch was taken. Saying the community leaders were overjoyed was an understatement. After getting over their initial surprise and congratulating them they promised to send more people to help defend the place.

But right now, before they left, America needed to know just how many of them died. Few were injured, save the ones that were already in bad shape from the cult's tortures, but the dead . . . the cult were beaten but not without cost.

"Casualty report." America asked. She stared over several bodies with white blankets over them.

"Eleven, ma'am." Helen responded somberly. She clutched her bandaged hand close to her chest. Keith had a comforting arm around her. "That Goliath really did a number on us."

"Shit." America sighed frustratingly. Her voice laced with so much grief. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for ma'am." Keith said.

"We'd be still at the mercy of Eden's Gate if not for you." Helen assured, reaching out and gripping the Deputy's hand soothingly. "You are a hero and everyone alive here would agree with me."

America smiled hollowly. "Thank you for the kind words."

"Here." Keith handed America a key with a yellow keychain that said Rye and Son's Aviation. "You said you and Miss Armstrong were here for Nick Rye's plane. Well you're free to take off now. Don't worry about us, we'll hold the line here."

Tightening her hold on the key, America looked up at the couple and nodded in thanks, the hollow smile still plastered on her face.

She walked over to Grace who was leaning against the hangar wall. Boomer was by her side, just lying down and waiting patiently for his owner.

"Got the key to Nick's plane." America called out.

"Good."

"Let's get over to Nick's and—"

"Listen, Deputy." Grace interrupted tersely, shocking America a little bit by her tone. "You and I want the same thing: to protect Hope County and its people from the cult. As you said, we're all in this together. But that stunt you pulled—"

"I'm a cop, Grace. My job is to defend the people."

"So. Is. Mine. But we can't just get into every fight that's on our path. Sometimes we have to ignore the suffering of the few to—"

"The few? More than twenty were being tortured in John's basement!"

"Calm down! I'm not saying there was no cause to strike. We did good here, despite my resignations. But this fight could have been different if we planned ahead instead of jumping head first into the fire. We could've gotten Nick's plane, fly out of here and come back with a tougher force and a legitimate strategy."

"Maybe, but I couldn't just leave those people no matter what. Screw reason. I have a responsibility to defend Hope County."

Memories flashed through America's head. A crashed helicopter, fire all around, Joseph declaring his reaping, and peggies swarming like locusts.

'Especially since they're all in danger because of me.'

"We all got a responsibility, Deputy." Grace said. "Seeing as how this conversation is going nowhere, I'll end it with this. You said you have my back. We're partners. I'm your sniper, you're my spotter. If you go over my head like that again, if you put us and other civilians in danger like that again . . . we're through."

Grace spun on her heel before America had a chance to say anything. She just glared at the woman's back, then looked down in shame. Her eyes shifted to Boomer who was looking up at her sadly.

"C'mon Boomer."

The garage of the hangar opened, revealing several planes inside. All of them were the same model, baring cult markings, save one.

Nick Rye's Plane was an old, bright yellow Kimberlite HP-18-160 floatplane, with black and red stripes on the side, along with Nick's business logo in between them, "Rye and Sons" was stamped on the pontoons, and a shark face painted on the nose behind the propeller.

"Hello, Carmina." Grace said fondly and walked in.

"What?" America followed.

"That's what the Rye's call their plane. Carmina. I think it was the name of Nick's grandmother . . . or maybe an old girlfriend."

Much to America's surprise the plane was decked out in weaponry, with a gatling gun mounted on the belly where a sprayer would go and on the wings were a set of bomb racks.

"Did the peggies do all this?" America questioned as she scanned the whole plane.

"The weapons? Nah." Grace answered. "Nick did that himself when the peggies were starting to become a noticeable problem. He was all ready to go to war with them, until Kim started showing signs of pregnancy."

"I've seen armaments like this before. On Georgie's Clusterduck plane. Rest in peace Georgie. Where are you guys gettin' all these weapons?"

It was one thing to own one rocket launcher, gatling gun, explosives, but it was another thing entirely when you had a whole arsenal of them. The number of weapons they had should have alerted SOME government organizations.

"Don't ask me. I own all my guns legally. I heard there's some kind of arms dealer somewhere around Hope County, but that's it."

"I'll look into that later. Right now, we need to get Nick's plane outta here."

Tossing the key in the air and catching it, the three got in the plane. Grace and Boomer taking up the back, while America sat in the pilot's seat.

"You know how to fly?" Grace asked.

"Yep! My Mom was in the army, but my uncle was a part of the Air Force. Has his own landing strip just like Nick. Gave me flying lessons and everything."

"That's convenient."

"Ain't it?"

America turned the key, activating the engine, making it cough. She flipped several switches and turned several knobs, bringing the machine more to life. The propeller began to spin and take them slowly out of the hangar.

Making it to the runway, the plane picked up speed, the propeller spinning faster and faster until it was just a blur. And they were off.

"Hey Partner, I heard someone threw a party at the Seed Ranch. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would ya?" Nick said cheekily over the radio.

America smiled at Nick's playfulness and responded in kind.

"Maybe. Place had a few ups and downs, but we walked out with a nice party favor. Big, yellow, and armed to the teeth."

"So you got my plane back? Awesome! Is she okay?"

"She's running like a dream, Nick. Trust me, I know planes too and everything I'm doing she's respondin' in kind."

"Ya sound confident. I'll take your word, Dep."

"Though we should probably test the weapons too before we bring it back to ya, right?"

Nick caught on to her meaning. "Oh yeah, best test them out while you're in the air. Bring it on back when you're done."

"Ten-four Nick. See ya at your airstrip in a bit."

America turned Carmina and flew over the farmlands of Holland Valley. She pulled on the steering wheel and flew downward. Out the window she could see a bunch of peggies, loading up bliss into trucks from a silo. Reaching for the button to release one of the bombs, she waited until she was in the right spot and dropped it right on top of them. The combined explosion of the bomb and vehicles and bliss destroyed all the peggies.

She then came across some Chosen and their planes sitting in the middle of a field. Looking through the targeting sight, she pressed the buttons to fire the main gun and took out all the Chosen and their planes.

Next, America shot up any of the cult's red silos she could see. The resulting explosion was huge and could be seen from several miles.

The radio crackled to life. At first, America thought it was Nick calling to praise them for destroying so much peggie property, but instead it was the sinister voice of the youngest Seed brother.

"So . . . you've taken my home in the name of your little "Resistance." Ah, if those walls could talk . . . well, more accurately scream." John bragged ominously.

America wasn't intimidated though and retorted like last time. "I'm sure they'd tell us all about the many times Joseph has fucked you in the ass, John. But no one wants to hear about your incestuous trysts."

America could practically feel the vein bulging on John's forehead. "If you say one more word about Joseph . . ."

"Or what? You'll throw more of your sheep at me? The more I kill the less we'll lock up in the future. And the less that'll be guarding your future corpse."

. . .

His silence spoke volumes! Making America grin at getting under the arrogant man's skin.

"Just know that I will get my home back. Sooner or later. And when I do maybe I'll hang your skin as a trophy above my mantle."

He then cut the connection.

"Asshole." Grace spat.

"Nice going!" Nick was apparently listening on his end and approved. "Takes guts to stand up to a monster like John Seed. I see why you're leadin' the Resistance."

"Co-leading." America clarified. "And we're coming in now, Nick. Standby."

"I see ya. Just take her down slow-like."

America brought the plane down, slowly pulling on the throttle and then they bumped. The plane rumbled as the wheels skidded over the dirt. She turned the steering wheel in the direction of the hangar, where Nick was waiting for them with waving arms.

Carmina came to a halt. She killed the motor and stepped out of the plane to meet with Nick.

"Oh my God. Oh my God, look at her!" Nick approached elated. "Son of a bitch you did it! You did it, thank you!" He clasped America and Grace's hands and shook them joyously.

"It was my pleasure Nick." America said.

"Sorry, it took us some time to get it." Grace apologized.

"You kiddin'? You not only got Carmina back, but you took John Seed's house too! Well worth the wait." He turned his head and shouted, "Kim! Carmina's back!"

"Yeah, I heard!" His wife, Kim, called back from the house.

"Get the bags! Come on let's turn her around." He went to the other side of the plane. "Come on grab on!"

Both America and Grace grabbed the other pontoon and helped Nick turn the plane in the opposite direction. They grunted as the pushed and pulled the plane to face the runway.

"You know this is the first time in a long time, I feel like shit's going my way. Those damn peggies."

"I'm glad we could help." America groaned.

"You just get your family somewhere safe, Nick." Grace said.

"Where ya headin' to anyway, if you don't mind me asking?" America questioned.

"Kim's got some family up in Canada. We're headin' there. Not too eager about it, that place is kinda weird. Did you know they're still owned by the British Royals? 1776 never happened! I'll still go there for safety and healthcare reasons, but I wouldn't stay there forever."

They got the plane turned around. Nick then gave the plane one last inspection.

"Kim, come on! Please tell me they didn't fuck with her. You know this plane's been in my family for three generations. Can you believe that?"

"Yes, Nick, you've told me this story before. Your daddy and mine were friends remember?"

"I didn't know that." The Deputy piped. "I'm new."

"Then I look forward to telling you all about it one day. Kim ya coming?!"

"Yeah! I'm comin'!" His wife shouted back annoyed.

"I swear that woman sometimes."

"She's pregnant Nick. Can't expect her to run a marathon." Grace chastised.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, my grandpa first got her when he got back from World War Two. It was his pride and joy."

"Nick!" Kim shouted, but Nick seemed to not hear her.

"I made a few modifications over the years." He continued.

"NICK!" Kim shouted again, this time he heard her and he responded back with impatient annoyance.

"Kim would you just hurry up?"

"Nick the peggies are on their way!"

"What?"

The rising sound of an aircraft coming nearer, and a Peggie plane flew over head. It dropped a bomb far from where they were.

"Those motherfuckers just don't know when to quit."

"Tell me about." America groaned.

Two peggies on an ATV drove by, firing submachine guns. The fighters ducked down, avoiding the spray of bullets. Nick pulled his gun around and fired it right back, getting both the peggies.

America looked at Nick's gun and realized it was an old WW2 MP34. It was decorated to look just like Carmina, complete with yellow paintjob, shark face, and even the Rye and Son's staple on the side.

Nick looked at the two women. "Listen I'm better in the air, but you two are fuckin' beasts on the ground. I'll hit them high, you guys hit them low, what do you say?" America and Grace gave him a fist bump. "Hoorah! Kim you stay inside until I get back!"

Nick got in his plane and expertly took off in a matter of seconds. Just as he left there was a crash at the house and Kim's high-pitched screams.

"Grace, get on top of the hangar. Some good spots for you to hide and get a good view from above. I'll go check on Kim."

"You got it."

"Come on, Boomer!"

The dog barked and ran after his master. Sure enough, Peggie trucks were outside the Rye household. With a couple peggies watching the perimeter. Boomer dashed forward and sunk his teeth into a Peggie throat. America came at a Peggie before he could respond and socked him in the face, hard enough to break his neck.

Kim's screams came again from the house. America quickly ran in and found a Peggie waiting in the living room. She knocked him to the ground with a hard right and let Boomer pounce on him. While the dog dealt with the down stairs threat, America moved upstairs and found a peggie swinging an axe against what she assumed was Kim's bedroom door.

The door must have been made of some strong wood because the axe was barely leaving a mark, but Kim screamed each time the man swung.

America quickly intervened and grabbed the axe just as the cultist raised it up. She yanked it out of his hands, and he turned around. The Deputy swung it, burying the sharp head in the man's gut. He gasped, when America removed it he fell down dead.

"Kim, it's Deputy Jones, are you alright?"

"Y-yeah. I'm fine."

There was another crash out front. "Kim, stay put. Your husband, Grace, and I will handle the cult."

"Okay."

Taking her new axe, America headed back outside. More peggies rolled up in cars and ATVs. Unholstering the Farmhand, America fired the gun one-handed and blasted a pair of peggies off a four-wheeler. She fired the second slug at the back of a pickup truck and the spread got the two in the back. She ducked behind a truck when the remaining two cultists shot at her.

Boomer rushed out and munched on the peggie that got out of the front passenger seat. His friend from the driver seat tried to save him, but America fired her shotgun again, hitting him in the face. Boomer finished his cultist by gnawing on his neck.

"Jones, you need to get back over here. Peggies are starting to swarm." Grace called.

"I'm coming!" America ran off, Boomer in tow. She ran through the hangar and sure enough more peggies had arrived. Above in the sky Nick was still fighting with the Chosen. He was on the peggie's tail, firing his minigun.

"These guy's ain't so tough! Have some more red-hot lead, you peggie assholes!"

America took cover behind some barrel drums. She poked out and fired the Farmhand, downing a peggie in one shot, then downed the second one with the other. As she reloaded, Grace gave her support from the roof, her green laser-dot could be seen flashing on peggie chests, before they were shot with surgical precision.

The familiar hum of a spinning machinegun went off in the sky. Both Resistance and cult alike looked up into the sky and saw a grey plane smoke and burn as it descended from the sky. It crashed off into the distance, away from them all with a resounding boom.

"I got him! Holy shit I got him!" Nick laughed with elation. "HAHA! Chosen my ass!"

"Nice work, Nick." Grace complimented. She stayed focused on her work though and pulled the trigger, killing peggies.

The Deputy, fueled by Nick's victory, poked out again and fired her double-barrel. Two blasts knocked back peggies, making blood fly from their bodies. That was when she saw something red move on her body. She thought it was blood spatter at first, but then she realized it was twitching over her body.

"SNIPER!" America warned with a shout. She dived into cover, just barely avoiding the bullet meant for her heart. Even Grace had to get down as snipers started firing on her position.

On the far side of the runway, opposite of the hangar, peggies were on the roofs of the other hangars. Their red laser-dots moved all over, looking for targets to shoot. Grace and America had to press themselves against their cover and hope they couldn't see them.

"Stay back! I'm gonna light up these snipers on the roof." Nick said over the radio.

Carmina flew overhead, gathering the attention of the snipers.

"It's a beautiful day for strafing!" Nick came down on them with a storm of bullets. The snipers fired back, but it was too late and they were shredded by bullets.

"Nice going, Nick!" America cheered.

"I see more peggies coming down the runway!" The Pilot warned.

"I see 'em." Grace said, spying through the scope of her rifle. She saw three trucks driving fast and coming fast.

Grace led and lined up her shot, carefully calculating, and fired. The shot killed the driver, splattering his blood against the window and causing the truck to swerve out of control. The passenger tried to grab the wheel and save themselves, but he wasn't quick enough. The truck toppled, and the vehicle behind them inadvertently crashed into them, making it spin.

The remaining trucks skidded to a halt in front of the hangar. All the cultists got out and started shooting. The gunners in the back opened fire immediately causing the two fighters to hunker down.

"Don't you guys move! I'm gonna drop a bomb on these guys!"

America and Grace did as they were told and kept their heads down. Nick came from the east, descending down slightly. The peggies were too focused on America and Grace that they barely heard the roaring engine of Carmina. Once plenty of them stopped shooting long enough to hear the floatplane coming it was too late.

Nick flew over them, timing it just right and dropped a bomb right on top of them. The explosion left a crater between the two decimated cars and annihilated the peggies.

Peggies pulled themselves out of the toppled truck and saw the devastated remains of their brothers and sisters. They turned their heads to see America and Grace holding their guns threateningly and Nick's plane flying overhead.

They didn't hesitate and ran for the hills. Making the fighters smirk.

"Ha-HA! Look at them run. That'll teach those peggies to mess with my family. Thanks for your help partner, I'm comin' down. Hey, maybe you guys can help with the luggage."

After the battle, America and Grace took care of the bodies. After looting everything of value off of them, guns, ammo, money, materials, they piled them over near the entrance of the runway and burned them. The destroyed scrap would take more time and hands. America intended to call the Resistance to help, as well as watch over the place. Nick said when he and his family were gone he'd leave the place to the Resistance. Better they have it then John Seed.

When the bodies were taken care of, they settled down in the hangar, had a cool brewski from the minifridge and took a load off. Well, America and Boomer did. Grace disassembled her new golden gun, cleaned it and put it back together again, only to repeat the process. She didn't like to relax like other people did. Though she did enjoy a beer.

"The Resistance should be here soon to guard this place. It's nice that we got enough people now that we can just call and have people come."

"Yeah." Grace screwed on the gun's muzzle before continuing. "Though I got to say, it's sad to see the Ryes go."

"What do you mean?" America questioned.

"The Ryes have been around since before the founding of Fall's End. They're a special part of Hope County."

"Maybe that's why the cult was so eager to get them to join. Nothin' like corrupting community symbols to reduce morale among people."

"Maybe. I can't blame Nick for leaving. Lots of people fled to protect their families, but the Ryes are somethin' special. Just sad to see them go."

America stood up from the old couch. "I should probably go check on how they're doing." Grace nodded. "Boomer, you watch my beer for me."

The lying dog groaned in what the Deputy could only guess was casual acceptance.

America walked around the Rye Household to the front door. On the porch, she saw a pregnant Asian-American woman sitting on the porch.

"Hi." She greeted, holding her hand out for a shake. "We didn't get formally introduced. My names Kimiko Rye, but most folks call me Kim."

"Nice to meet you Mrs. R—"

She raised up her hand. "Don't call me Mrs. Makes me feel old. Kim'll do just fine."

The two shook hands.

"Nice to meet you Kim. Deputy Jones at your service. Or America if you don't want to use my title."

"Nick told me all about what you and Grace did. You saved me personally. Thank you so much." Kim smiled gratefully.

"Just doing my job, ma'am."

Kim chuckled. "Well, you should get a raise. Nng!"

America moved to the woman's side. "Are you alright?" She asked concernedly.

"Yeah . . . yeah. Baby just kicked—she's been getting' all riled up lately. Urgh—doctor says she could be due in a couple weeks now."

"A girl? Congratulations."

"Heh, yeah. Try tellin' Nick that. We got photographic evidence and everything and he still thinks we're having a boy."

"He doesn't want a girl?"

"Nick'll love our baby no matter what . . . he just doesn't want to change the brand name of the business. Plus he really wants to name her Nick, says it's a "field tested name." I won't let him."

America laughed. "That's adorable."

"Heh heh, yeah." Kim started looking around the place. Like really look around, as if she was seeing it for the very first time. "I'm really going to miss this place. So many wonderful places and memories."

"I haven't been able to enjoy it. Too busy fighting the peggies."

"That's right, Nick said you're new to Hope County. Sorry you have to see it in this state."

"Nothing you need to apologize for, ma'am."

"I just wish you could have seen this place before the cult. Grace's Shooting Range, Raptor's Peak, the Silver Lake where Nick proposed to me . . . the FANG Center where I was hoping to take my little girl to. The . . . Nick talked about the Clutch Nixon museum. And . . . the cult's taken everything haven't they?"

America nodded, wordlessly answering the future mom's worst fears.

"They corrupted it. Everything. Everything good. I can't even walk outside without feeling the cult's presence. And how many of my friends are dead or worse? I've heard so many terrible things. Hearing you guys fight outside, the cult so close to touching me . . ."

America was about to comfort the woman and tell her everything was going to be alright, but she was interrupted by Nick suddenly walking out the screen door, suitcase in hand.

"C'mon Kim, we're leaving." Nick nodded to the Deputy in acknowledgement.

"No."

"No?" Nick repeated surprised, but he didn't stop. He motioned America, who was equally surprised by the woman's response, to help him with the bags.

Both the Deputy and the 9-month pregnant woman followed him inside.

"Nick, this our home." Kim argued.

"Kim, you just don't understand" The pilot grabbed two bags and handed one for the Deputy to carry. His wife took the bag from her.

"Don't understand what? That they're stealing our land, kidnapping our friends and doing God knows what else? We can't just leave everything here as it is."

"I gotta keep you safe! That's all that matters."

"No, there's more here that matters then just our livelihoods. Nick, your grandfather built this place. The house, the landing strip, the hangar, and he even bought Carmina. And he did it all after fighting for his country. You really want to turn your back on that? The spirit of this place?"

Nick looked very conflicted, he wanted to argue, but words just wouldn't form. One look at his wife and he decided to move for another bag. To him, Kim was worth more. His wife blocked his way one more time, holding her hands up pleadingly before resting them on her swollen belly.

"And what about all the times we talked about handing the family business over to our daughter?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "I talked about handing off the family business to our son."

Kim brought both her hands to her hips as she held eyes with her husband " You saw the ultrasound. It's a girl."

"That was on a messy black and white TV screen. You know them things aint reliable." He looked to the Deputy for support. He found her hunched slightly and covering her smirking mouth. "What're you giggling at?"

"Nick . . ." Kim strained her tone getting back her man's attention.

A moment passed between the two. They just stared at each other as if communicating with just their eyes. America recognized these looks, saw them every time her parents were together.

Nick brought his hand to his wife's pregnant belly "I love you."

Kim smiled back at him and covered his hand with her own "Me too".

America almost felt like crying at the sight. Hell, he eyes were watery and threatened to burst any second. She hadn't seen true genuine love like that since her parents and those two definitely had reasons to split.

Nick turned and grabbed the bags placing them back by the stairs "Well Deputy, it looks like the Rye Family's diggin' in. Hey, listen, if you ever need air support, you give me a holler. You and me, we'll be like Butch and Sundance."

Kim's smile faltered a bit. "Uh, Nick they both died at the end."

Nick looked back at his wife, none the wiser. "Nah."

America chuckled at their banter. "Technically the movie freeze-frames before it ends and there was always a hint that they survived. I'll see you folks around."

As Nick headed back upstairs with the bags Kim grabbed America's hands before she was out the door and looked at her imploringly. "Please take care of him."

America looked into the woman's kind eyes and then down to her stomach.

She thought about how strongly Nick wanted to protect this woman and realized that this was something that needed to be fought for. To the death even. A family. A true loving family. As long as she still held breath, the cult would not sink their claws into the Rye's.

America placed her hand on Kim's and nodded.

Fall's End.

Returning to Fall's End with both Grace and Boomer, America headed straight for the Spread Eagle. Anyone that greeted her, she just waved to. Too tired from all of the day's events.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." Mary smirked.

Boomer growled at the mention of cat, but it lacked energy. The dog just plopped next to his owner, who took a seat at the counter. Grace took the seat to America's left, setting down her golden rifle by her leg.

"Hey, Mary." America greeted tiredly. She rested her head on her hand.

"Grace! It's so good to see you."

"You too, Mary." Grace gave a small smile. "Glad to see this place is still kickin'."

"All thanks to the Deputy here. Without her we wouldn't even be half as strong as we are."

Grace nodded. "I've heard. Her name's spreadin' around."

"And drawing more people to us. We're able to hold more locations because her deeds are inspirin' everyone. Which, by the way, congrats on taking that bastard's home and saving Nick and his family."

"It was my pleasure."

"You look exhausted, want somethin' to eat?"

"That would be fantastic, thanks." Mary handed her a menu. "I'll take the trout, and can you get me a cup of water?"

"Sure thing, hon. You're in luck, group caught a bunch of fresh ones this morning. Grace, you want anything?"

"Gimme a beer and one of Casey's famous burgers. Burn it."

"You got it. Casey! America needs the trout and Grace wants your famous burger, just the way she likes it!"

"Grace is here? Hot damn, I'll get right on it." Casey shouted from the kitchen.

"What a day." America laid her head down on the cool counter.

"I'll say."

"I feel old. Is that natural, Grace?"

"You get used to it."

"Comforting."

"Are you always this whiny at the end of the day or is it just this day in particular?"

"It just feels like this day has gone on longer than it should have. Like God just couldn't find a proper time and place to end the day."

Suddenly, America's radio crackled. Grabbing it quickly, she answered. "Hello?"

"You don't mess around do ya Dep?"

"Hey, Dutch, how've ya been?"

"Is that Dutch?" Grace asked. "Tell that old codger I said hey."

"Grace says 'Hey.'"

The old vet chuckled. "I see you've met Grace. She's as tough as they come, kid. She'll watch your back when shit hits the fan."

"So I've noticed."

"From the things I've heard you do? I bet. Takin' John Seed's Ranch has to sting. Bastard's runnin' out of places to hide. And thanks for helpin' out the Ryes. I spent a lot of nights drinkin' with Nick's old man at the Spread Eagle. He's a good kid. Take care of 'em, Deputy. That family's a symbol of hope for this place. Dutch out."

Just like that, the connection was cut.

"I feel like that man never radios for social calls."

"Dutch has some family issues. He's a man of few words, but their always meaningful."

"Can't argue that."

A bell dinged, signaling their food.

"Order up!" Casey declared.

Mary walked over to the two with hot plates in both her hands.

"Here you ladies go." She set the plates down. "And your drinks."

"Thanks, Mary."

"And something for you, Boomer." Grace placed a plate of steak by the dog, who barked thankfully, before scarfing it up.

The two started chowing down, taking solace in the first cooked meal they've had in days.

The door opens behind them and America feels something soft press against her head.

"Hey, cutie." Cassidy flipped an old lighter in front of America's face. "Need a light?"

"Hey, Cass."

"What? Not gonna flirt back?" Cass pouted.

"I'm too tired to flirt."

Grace looked oddly between the two.

Cassidy huffed and covered the old Vietnam lighter. "Fine. Then I guess I'll just give this to you now, since you aren't in the mood for our usual games."

The redhead set down an aluminum bat next to America. The silver bat was painted red, white, and blue and was decorated to look like the American flag.

"What's this?"

"It's a muffin. What do you think it is? It's a bat."

"I know it's a bat, but why are you giving this to me?"

"The house I raided—the peggies raided it first FYI—had a lot of baseball memorabilia. The peggies were gonna burn it all, but I managed to snag a few things before they could. This bat reminded me a lot of you: shining, patriotic, tough as nails—"

"And hard headed." Grace added without looking at them.

"That's right! Who are you?"

"Grace Armstrong."

"Nice to meet you—so anyway. I figured this bat would be perfect for you!"

"It also wouldn't have anything to do with my name would it?" America asked pointedly.

Cassidy seemed hesitant. "Wooould thaaat beeee baaad?"

"I'm named after my country. I've lived my whole life hearing people shout "America yeah!" mockingly. With the latest one being "Make America Great Again."

Grace actually choked on her drink for a second, but the two women ignored her. Cassidy now seemed very uncomfortable.

"Noooo. No. I just thought you'd look good swinging around the bat, your name had nothing to do with it. I swear!"

America gave the girl the stink eye for a while longer, before sighing. "Thanks for the bat. I'm sure I can use it for something."

"You can use it to beat peggie heads in!"

"I like this girl." Grace commented.

America ate the last of her fish and water and got up from her seat.

"I'm heading to bed now." She headed toward the stairs. "See you all in the morning. Boomer, come." The cattle dog followed her up the stairs.

Closing her bedroom door, America stripped down to her underwear and put on some sweats, it was going to be a cold night. She laid down all her weapons by the nightstand and kept Judgment the closest. She stared at the bed for a while, almost reluctant to get under the covers.

'I hope I won't have another nightmare.'

Before she got into bed, there was a knock at her door. Groaning, she didn't bother to get up and just shouted "Door's open!"

Cassidy walked in and closed the door.

"Cass, I really don't—"

"Shh-shh." She placed her index finger over America's lip. "I'm here to give you a massage."

America felt her anger rise. "Cassidy, I'm serious. I'm in no mood."

"I know! That's why I'm offering a massage. You've looked tired and tense since this morning and even then, you were still playfully fun. This is just to help you relax as you go to sleep."

"Cass . . ."

"Look, if you don't like it, if it doesn't do anything for ya, then I'll stop and leave you alone for the rest of the night."

Letting the offer process in her head a bit, America conceded and let Cass give her a massage.

"Excellent! You won't regret it. Just lean back and let me work my magic."

Cassidy laid back on the pillows and America leaned back on her. Cassidy started rubbing the Deputy's shoulders methodically. Digging in hard, America moaned from the rough, but pleasant touch.

"How's that feel?"

"Mmm—wonderful."

"I knew you'd think so. Just relax, darlin' and let my sweet, sweet touch lull ya to sleep."

"Heh heh. You know Cassidy, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were seducing me."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. You're just no fun when you're all tense and tired. I want the girl who matches me shot for shot back tomorrow mornin'. Now if you really want me to seduce you, you have to buy me dinner first."

"Heh heh, I'll . . ." She yawned. "I'll keep that . . . in mind."

America drifted off to sleep with a happy smile on her face. Cassidy let her rest on her chest and gave her a smooch on the cheek.

"Sleep tight, hero. We need you at your best."

---

AN: Just in case any of you ask, here's the reason why I call the heavy gunners Goliath. I'm sure there's a word for this, but the title is supposed to have a double meaning. Goliath was known for being a giant and super strong. That applies to the heaves with their large sizes and ability to wield heavy weaponry. The name is also supposed to be humbling, a reminder that even the strongest warrior can fall to the meekest of individuals. So, it's to keep them in check and not become too prideful in their own strength.

JUST TWO MORE WEEKS UNTIL NEW DAWN COMES OUT! I EXCITE!