America was loading up supplies into the Blue Eagle to take on their trip to the Hope County Prison. She had placed her new machinegun in the back, along with her composite bow and grenade launcher. By her side was Boomer who was happily watching all the others get ready to move out of Fall's End.
Grace was checking her sniper rifle again to make sure it was in the best condition. Meanwhile, James was throwing more weapons into the Cult Buster. He figured the resistance fighters at the prison could use some more ammo and weapons.
Everyone in Fall's End was there to see their hero and her allies off. Mary and Jerome would hold down the fort while they were away and be ready to receive contact from the prison. Hudson was also planning on staying, believing the town would need a law enforcer to watch out for them.
"You got everything?" Mary asked
"Yes, ma'am." The Deputy confirmed.
"Once we break through the barricade, just keep to the main road and you'll wind up at the prison." Mary May said, twirling the Widowmaker's keys around her finger.
"I know." The Deputy turned to address the crowd. "We're taking this war to the rest of the Hope County! The cult better watch out because we're comin' for 'em!
The crowd cheered, just when Nick's plane flew overhead.
"Let's roll out!" America, Grace, and Boomer got into the Blue Eagle and James got into the Cult Buster.
Mary May slammed the door to the Widowmaker shut and led the way. As they exited the town, the bigwheeler honked its massive horn, eliciting an uproarious cheer once more from them.
America followed behind Mary, with James behind her. Suddenly her radio crackled to life.
"Ya there, Deputy?"
"What ya need, Dutch?"
"You headin' to Henbane River yet?"
"Already on the road." She answered.
"Well, ya might want to speed it up. The prison's under attack again and it sounds like the cult's really hittin' them hard right now."
"Shit, seriously? Alright, thanks for the heads up, Dutch. Keep me posted."
"Understood, Deputy." And he cut out.
"Mary, I'd hate to rush ya, but we need to get to the Henbane ASAP."
"Needn't say more, Deputy! WooHoo!" Mary blared the horn once more as she sped the Widowmaker up.
On the northern bridge that connected the gap between the Holland Valley and the Henbane River, a blockade of cultists were watching the roads, awaiting any sinners that dare cross into the Father's sacred land.
After the downfall of John's Gate, as well as its Herald, they had seen many of their brothers and sisters running to them for protection from the heathens. Almost every hour brought dozens, but the sad part was that these were very few, which means not many survived the purge.
They stood ever vigilant and ready for anything to come. They would defend their cause and family, even if it meant death. They shall not pass!
Then a horrifically familiar horn blared, alerting everyone of an oncoming attack.
They didn't even need their binoculars to see what was coming at them. The boogeyman of vehicles, the behemoth ride of sinners. The Widowmaker.
"Ah fuck."
They were blasted by twin .50 cals and then crushed under six wheels. The Widowmaker demolished their defenses, making way for the vehicles behind them to enter into the Henbane River. Said vehicles' passengers started firing on any remaining peggies or crushing them under tire. It was too easy.
The Widowmaker made a u-turn allowing the cars to pass it, while it returned to Fall's End.
"You got it from here, Deputy?"
"You bet, Mary. Thanks again for knockin' on their door."
"No problem; it was fun. I'm headin' back to Fall's End now, yall be careful a'right?" Mary said.
"Will do and be ready to hear from the prison sometime today."
"Can't wait."
And with that, the Widowmaker went back and the convoy continued through the new region.
"How's it looking up there, Nick?" America asked through her radio.
"Not a bad view, but kinda weird." Nick gargled through his end.
"How so?"
From Nick's point of view what he was seeing was some kind of green mist that was wafting through the region. "There's a thin veil of some kinda green fog all over the place. Most of it looks like it's coming from the bliss fields."
"The cults using it like a fog of war. Careful not to breathe too much of it in." James said.
"Good thing I'm up here." Nick retorted cockily.
"You be careful too, Nick. We got no idea how high up that stuff reaches." James warned.
"Ten-four, buddy, I'll be careful."
"We all gotta be careful." America added vigilantly. "Keep your eyes peeled and your weapons at the ready. After kickin' ass in Holland Valley, the cult is gonna be a little more angsty. Wouldn't be surprised if there was a gunman hiding in every one of those hills."
"Ah, great. Thanks for that, Rookie, not like I wasn't paranoid enough." James playfully whined.
"That's why we're heading to the prison first, Heller. We can get a foothold and work our way through this region, from the inside-out."
While, surprisingly, they didn't see much action, they did come across many abandoned cars on the sides of the road, as well as dead bodies the crows were still picking clean. Some of them had been raised onto posts, desecrated, as was the cult's MO. Some were just lying face down, a cult emblem staff sticking out of their backs.
Then America came across an active site. Two Angels were repeatedly stabbing an already dead civilian with trowels. She stopped in front of them which caused the Angels to rush toward them, screaming. America shot them both in the head with Judgment.
"Looks like the cult lets their zombies roam free in these parts." James said over the radio.
"Just like Alex and Hannah warned us." America muttered.
"I can't believe there's more of them. Those were people once . . ." Grace said morosely.
"Maybe someone out there knows how to help them. Let's keep moving."
As they got the cars going again, Nick came over the radio.
"Hey, partner, I can see the prison from here." Nick informed.
"And?"
"Looks like they're in the middle of a fight. Looks pretty bad on the Resistance side."
"Let's pick up the pace then people." America ordered and stepped on the gas pedal.
"Shit! Look out behind you guys! Peggie trucks!" Nick warned.
Both drivers looked into their rearview mirror and saw two white trucks speeding toward them.
"I was wondering when the welcome committee would get here. Boomer, Down." She ordered Boomer onto the floor of the truck for safety.
"Where would the fun be in that." James smiled excitedly. He stomped on his breaks, causing his tires to screech with an ear-splitting squeal. Both the cult vehicles swerved around him erratically, just barely dodging him.
James then pulled out his pistol and fired on one of the trucks tires. He hit it causing the trucks to move uncontrollably and veer off the road and into the river.
The second truck was ramming America, as well as shooting her.
"You're scratching up the paint!" She yelled and started ramming back. Grace rolled down the window and started firing with her Desert Eagle. The heavy pistol blasted the windows, killing a pair of peggies inside, including the driver. The Deputy would then finish it off by ramming the truck off the road, causing it to crash into a tree and killing everyone inside.
"Ha! Is that all they got!"
"If there's one thing we know about the cult, James, it's that they always have more." America said.
"There's the prison! Hang a right!" James shouted.
Both cars drifted hard, nearly tipping over, but they corrected quickly and the prison was straight ahead.
There was still fighting going on, with peggies firing on the people standing on the prison wall.
James went ahead and started braking. His car drifted, squealing loudly as it did, and he crashed into numerous cultists, killing them on impact. He would then step out of his car blast two more with his shotgun. America didn't do anything as stylish, but she did ram a couple of peggies and stopped in front of the prison gates. Grace stayed inside as she fired her rifle, shooting them straight in the chest.
America grabbed her machinegun and started blasting every peggie that was unfortunate to enter her sights. Boomer bounded out of his car and tackled one peggie that was hiding. He ripped into his throat like a chewtoy until he stopped moving.
When there were no more peggies in the area, the Deputy called out, "Sheriff, it's Deputy Jones!"
"Jones? Rookie is that you?" Sheriff Whitehorse called back.
"Yes, let us in, quick!"
Half a minute later, the prison gates opened allowing the Blue Eagle and the Cult Buster in.
The only welcome they were greeted with was from the Sheriff. Everyone else inside was too busy scrambling, collecting bodies and wounded or shuffling off with crates of ammo.
"Holy shit, Rook! You really saved our bacon." The Sheriff said relieved.
"Hey what are we? Chopped liver?" James said wryly.
"James, of course I'm glad to see you alive too. And Grace, glad to see you alive as well."
"Alive and kicking peggie teeth, Sheriff. What's the 411?"
"The cult's been throwing themselves at these walls for days, they just don't let up. Every day it feels like there's more of them, then the next day . . . they just seem endless. We really kicked the hornets nest didn't we, Rook?"
"We just got to find the right bug spray, Sir." America half joked.
"More trucks coming!" A man yelled and then fell from the walls after a series of gunfire. He landed on the ground in front of the law enforcers, bleeding from the chest.
"Damnit! Medic!" Whitehorse bellowed, checking on the downed man's vitals. "Rook, I need you and your team up on the wall."
"Yes, sir! You heard him guys!"
The three started climbing. America turned when she heard Boomer whining. "Sorry, Boomer, you stay down here and help however you can." America called down to the sad boy.
They reached the top and sure enough, more peggie trucks had arrived, dropping off a lot of cultists. Several civilians were firing away at the attackers, with a black woman barking orders at them. She was currently firing an assault rifle. One of the civilians called her Tracey.
"Hey! If you need ammo, we got people prepared to help inside the guard towers." Tracey informed. "We also need someone on the south wall. Damn bastards breached it yesterday."
"Got it! James, you get on that wall. Grace, you stay here and hold the front."
"On it!" James ran toward the southern wall.
"Understood." Grace set up her sniper spot and began lining up shots.
"And what will you be doing, newcomer?" Tracy asked, pulling the pin of the grenade and tossing it.
She hefted her machinegun and pointed out toward the prison parking lot. "Going wherever I'm needed."
A burst of rounds shot out of the weapon and ripped into the cult vehicles. They punctured it like bubblewrap and killed the peggies on the other side.
Grace lined up her shots, her laser sight dancing around the battlefield. The green glow was the last thing many of the cultists saw before their brains were blown out or the chest cavities erupted open.
Some of the cultists tried sneaking around and entering through the breach on the southern wall. They would be shocked to see James waiting for them with a smile and barrel full of buckshot.
"Howdy." James greeted and shot the cultist in the head. He then blasted the other climbing peggies away. He threw a pipe bomb down below and let it take out the rest of the peggies.
"Oh shit, more trucks coming from the forest!" Tracey alerted.
The Deputy looked over to her left and saw three trucks filled with cultists drive through. They were close together, hoping to zerg rush their way through to overwhelm them. But it just made an easier target.
"Nick!" She called on her radio. "You got sights on those trucks?"
"I do indeed, partner. Going in hot!"
Carmina took a nose dive and released one of her bombs. America could hear Nick imitate a bomb-whistle as he dropped the explosive right on top of the peggies. The explosion was huge and sent metal and bodies flying.
"Holy shit!" Tracey exclaimed.
"You got air support now, people!" America cried proudly. She got several victorious cheers as a result.
The peggies weren't finished though. Many charged in by foot and took cover behind their fallen wreckage.
"RPG!" Tracey shouted warningly.
The peggie loaded the rocket into the launcher, kneeled down and aimed at the door. But just as he pulled the trigger, a green dot shined in his eyes and then he saw black. Grace smirked at seeing the fresh hole in the man's head.
The now dead peggie fell forward and pulled the trigger, but it was aimed downward. The explosion obliterated him and his surrounding allies.
Two more trucks came speeding up the road. Behind them they each had a machine gun mounted. The gunners opened fire on the walls, forcing the Resistance to take cover. The peggies took that moment to circle the prison and get in.
James was still defending the south wall, keeping any peggies from climbing up, but the opposite wall was taking a lot of hits.
America, still suppressed, lit a stick of dynamite and tossed it overhead. The explosive landed near the trucks and the force of the imminent explosion caused the trucks to be pushed a bit. The cultists and their trucks were unhurt, but it stopped the shooting long enough for the Resistance to fire back and kill the cultists.
More peggies would arrive, trying to bust in, scale the walls and invade, but it was all for naught as America and her posse more than helped put an end to the cult's terror. But over the radio they heard chatter of the peggies sending something their way. The "last resort" as they called it.
Said "last resort" was a giant tanker truck. It honked warningly as it accelerated over the hill.
"They're gonna ram and blow the doors open!" Tracey realized what the cult was doing.
"Not on my watch. Grace!"
The Olympic sharpshooter took aim and fired. The round merely created a spiderweb crack on the truck's windshield.
"Shit, they bulletproofed it."
"Then keep hitting it, Grace!"
Grace obliged fired three more rounds before the glass shattered, but now the driver couldn't be seen.
"He's ducking, I can't get him."
"Then plan B. Nick! You in range?"
"Hell yeah, partner."
"Make it rain then."
Carmina flew overhead with the engine roaring.
"Bombs away!" Nick yelled and dropped a bomb right on top of the truck. The explosion doubled, destroying the vehicle and then the tanker. Fire and smoke lifted into the air, melting the devastated metal and rubber of the vehicle.
Everyone cheered seeing the cult's last effort get destroyed. Just when they thought it was over, an explosion rocked the prison and everyone turned in its direction.
"They've breached the northeast wall!" Tracy alerted.
Indeed, the northeast wall now had a sizable gap, with many unfortunates dead, caught in the explosion or crushed from rubble. The peggies took advantage of the opening and poured through.
"Defend the northeast!" America shouted.
Everyone started firing in that direction. The gap the cultists made wasn't too big, so only a few peggies at a time could squeeze in. But peggies in their base wasn't good anyway.
As America fired from on high, she saw Boomer running through all the gunfire. The precious pooch bounded onto a cultist and ripped his throat out. This got the attention of a shotgun-wielding peggie. She turned her sights on the dog and fired.
"AROOIE!"
"BOOMER!" America watched in horror as her dog was knocked back by the blast and didn't get up.
Seeing nothing but red and feeling fire in her veins, America jumped down from the walls, hitting the ground with a loud thud. The adrenaline mixed with her anger prevented the unpleasant reverberation going up her body. Her focus was instead on the fucker that shot her dog and insignificant sheep between them.
Seeing the Deputy coming toward them, all the cultists turned their weapons her. But they wouldn't get the chance to kill her as America mowed them down with her big fucking gun. Bullet after bullet, she tore into them like a hellfire hailstorm. Even when ones had already died, she kept shooting them. All she wanted was the bitch that got Boomer.
She had gotten her already, having put twenty rounds through her legs and stomach. Unfortunately, by some devil's curse, she was still alive, but that America saw that as fortunate.
The peggies had backed off when the Deputy continued firing into the fresh gap. Bloody bodies blocked it up and cautioned other cultists from entering. America approached the peggie that shot Boomer, but she would not receive a fast end like her sheep brothers and sisters.
America stood over the unfortunate peggie and turned her gun so the stock was facing the bleeding cultists. The Deputy then started hammering her M16 into the bitch's face.
"You. Shouldn't. Have. Fucked. With. My. Dog. You. Cunt."
"Rookie! Rookie!" She felt herself get pulled off by the Sheriff, making her drop her gun. She struggled a bit forcing Whitehorse to headlock her. "Stop! She's dead, Rook! She's dead!"
Sure enough, the cultist's head was nothing more then a mushy, bony, pancake. Her new gun now had pieces of flesh and teeth stuck in its stock. America finally calmed down, allowing Whitehorse to slowly release her. Then she remembered why she was so pissed off.
"Boomer!"
She ran to the bird dog; Grace and James were already looking over the poor creature. Miraculously, Boomer was alive! The spread of the buckshot was wide and not very deep, but the dog was still injured and whining in pain.
America felt the Sheriff's big hand grab her shoulder. "Get him inside, we should be able to patch him up." He said calmingly.
The Deputy nodded and picked her dog up. That caused Boomer to whine louder in pain and so she enlisted the help of James. Both deputies carried the famous dog inside. Meanwhile, the Sheriff was directing orders to everyone as they moved inside.
"Rodgers, there's an arc welder inside. Footy was using it last, get on it. Start collecting scrap . . . and if you have to pull the doors off some of the cells, do it. Now hop to! We ain't got much time!" The woman, Tracey and another fighter, were carrying a wounded man inside. "Problems?"
"Other than the fresh hole on the northwest side, no. Couple of the peggies tried scaling the wall, but we got 'em, thanks to Cowboy here."
"You're welcome, Tracey." James grunted.
Whitehorse opened the door for them to enter the main complex. He looked over the injured man Tracey was carrying as they passed. "Doesn't look too bad. You'll be alright. Just keep pressure on it." Then he looked at his deputies wistfully. "You know? I was gonna retire last year. Was worried I'd get bored." He said in hollow amusement.
They walked past the main desk and through the hallway. Whitehorse jogged past them and opened the door to the next room, which was some kind of office space turned into a makeshift infirmary. Cots and curtains were set up on both sides, many of them filled. The room smelled of alcohol, blood and medicine, with pained groans filling the air.
Tracey and the fighter placed their guy on an empty cot. America and James placed Boomer on a nearby cot across from them.
Looking over the hound, the poor thing was trembling. He was bleeding from several small wounds. They didn't look deep, but they needed to do something before Boomer died of blood loss or shock.
"Here, I got gauze and morphine." James said bringing a roll and bottle.
"Give it here, I know how to apply it." Grace said, taking the items from the deputy.
"Seriously?" Tracey said annoyed. "Get that mutt off that cot and don't waste our resources, people need it more."
America reeled on the woman, scowling darkly at her. "That "mutt" has saved my life and many others several times over. He fucking stays." She challenged.
Tracey returned the glare and the two nearly butted heads as they stood off. You could almost see the sparks flying between them as they silently dared the other to say something more. Whitehorse had to break it up quick.
"That's enough, both of you." He separated them.
"Tracey, that's not just any dog, that's Boomer, Rae Rae's pooch. We'll treat him like any other. And Rookie, don't be startin' fights 'round here, got it."
"Yes, sir."
"Whatever."
Tracey stormed off without another word. "Virgil will want an update on this attack, meet us in the Lockup, Sheriff." She said tersely before leaving, slamming the door shut.
Whitehorse took off his hat and scratched his balding head. "Don't let Tracey get to you, she alright once you get to know her. Everyone's just a bit on edge. I need you to play nice, okay Rook?"
"I understand, sir."
James placed his arm around the Rookie. "Take it from me, Rook; Tracey can be a bit of a hardnose, but she's cool, trust me. She and I go way back."
America removed his arm. "I got it." She then looked around the room. "Where's your doctor? Boomer needs medical treatment."
"We, uh, don't have one. All the actuals docs have been either recruited to the cult, scared off by the cult or . . . killed by the cult. We have a vet, Dr. Charles Lindsey."
"A vet?" James said incredulously.
"Jesus." Grace palmed her face.
"That's perfect!" America yelled ecstatically. "He can actually help, Boomer. Where is he?"
The Sheriff started rubbing his neck nervously. "He's gone."
"Gone? What do you mean 'he's gone?'"
The Sheriff lowered his head with a heavy sigh. "It's complicated, Rook. Meet us in Lockup, you can be filled in during the meeting."
The Sheriff left them in the infirmary. America turned back to Boomer, was now knocked out from the morphine. She pet his head tenderly as he panted shallowly. He looked so weak right now, it broke her heart.
"Hey, Deputy, ya there?"
America answered her radio. "What is it, Nick?"
"I got to head back to Holland Valley for repairs and reload. Ya gonna be okay without me for a while?"
"Yeah, Nick, we'll be fine. I'll call ya if we need any air support."
"Got it partner, and don't worry about Boomer. He's a tough old dog, he'll make it through this. Especially with you by his side."
That got a small smile out of her. "Thanks, Nick, take care."
Grace had finished her work, stopping the bleeding, but she didn't look pleased. "He'll be okay for now, but we need to get that buckshot out of him."
"Can't you do it?" James asked.
"I'd rather have a professional handle it. Boomer's in pretty rough shape, I'd hate to make it worse because I didn't know what I was doing."
"Then let's go find out where this Dr. Lindsey run off to."
The Deputy and her two companions followed after the Sheriff back the way they came. They took a turn to the right and entered the cell block. The place was had a few people running around, tending to kids, moving supplies, and all around keeping busy. Off to the farthest corner was a radio two people were trying to operate. The group approached a table with Tracey, Sheriff Whitehorse and an older gentleman, standing over it. America recognized the balding man as Virgil Minkler, the mayor of the Hope County. He was currently preoccupied with the maps and papers lying on the table to look up at them.
"We lost five people in that fight, and three others were injured." Virgil sighed, rubbing his bald head stressfully.
"Fuck!" Tracey cursed.
Her cursing caused Virgil to look at her disapprovingly. "Language!"
"Oh, fuck off, Virgil. I'm in no mood for your sanctimonious crap." Tracey shot back tiredly.
"I have told you: a vulgar mind is a sign of . . ." he paused to look down at her slightly, "You're not wearing your button!"
"No. I'm not wearing it." Tracey said matter-of-factly.
"But we're Cougars!" Virgil argued.
"We're really not."
"Look, I'm wearing my button." He said pointing to the circular, black, blue and gold button of a roaring cougar on his chest. America recognized it as the County's baseball team symbol. "The sheriff is wearing his button. This person is—I'm sorry, who're you?" He asked, just now taking notice of America and the rest of her posse. "Who're these people?"
Whitehorse clapped his hand on America's shoulder. "These are two of my Deputies. My rookie, America Jones, and you already know James. And I know you're familiar with Miss Armstrong."
Virgil adjusted his glasses. "Oh, yes, apologies, Grace, for not recognizing you."
"It's alright, Virgil. Glad to see you're alright." Grace said.
"So, you're the deputy that killed John Seed?" Tracey asked, narrowing her eyes.
"That's right." America stared back, ready to argue back if the woman was looking for another confrontation.
Instead, Tracey nodded humbly. "Respect. John Seed was a piece of shit. Glad we won't have to deal with him anymore."
America blinked and then smiled awkwardly. "Thanks."
"No, thank you." Virgil said. "It came as a pleasant surprise when we heard what happened to John. Faith's been absolutely relentless on us ever since we holed up here in the prison. Hearing that one of the Heralds had died really boosted morale when we really needed it."
"Well, we're here to provide more than that. Holland Valley is pretty much liberated from the peggies, so the Resistance there is able to lend a hand here. We brought food, water, ammo and guns, whatever you need we can oblige."
Tracey laughed mirthfully. "Fuck, that's great fucking news!"
"Language! But she's right, thank you so much, Deputy."
"Samuel! Get some people and go unload their vehicles." Sheriff ordered one of the civilians standing around. "Thanks, Deputy."
America nodded. "Let's get down to business." She said, leaning on the table.
"What can you all tell us about the region? Key locations, strongholds, points of interest, and people of importance." James listed.
America's mind flashed to memories of John and his wickedness. Then she recalled the night they attempted to arrest The Father; a beautiful, white-dressed woman with hair of gold standing by his side. "What can you tell us . . . about Faith Seed?"
"The only thing you need to know is that she's a living poison!" Virgil spat venomously.
"He's not even exaggerating. Faith is the one responsible for producing, peddling, and spreading the cult's Bliss all over the county. She uses it to control everyone and everything, willing or not." Tracey explained darkly.
"That's how they found me." Whitehorse started. "After our helicopter crashed, I awoke in a thick fog . . . then I remember . . . walking through a field and then I saw her." The Sheriff spoke with a haunted look on his face, as if he was recalling a horrible event that scarred him for life.
America had only heard stories about Faith. All of them made her out to be some kind of enchantress, succubus, a witch. She recalled in Dutch's bunker that she was called "The Siren." You never got names like that unless you were adept at controlling people. And considering she is responsible for the creation of Bliss and Angels, that made her even more dangerous.
"Listen good you three. If you see Faith, do not listen to a single word. Whatever she says, whatever she promises . . . it's a lie. Stay away from her or you'll wind up like the Marshal." Whitehorse warned.
"The Marshal's alive?" America asked with legit surprise.
'Last I saw of him he was being dragged out of the water by the cult . . . after he left me to drown.'
"What happened to him?" James asked.
"He's a puppet for Faith now. Been looping a feed of him telling the civilians to remain calm. Like anyone was going to buy that." Tracey scoffed.
"Ron, bring that TV over here!" Virgil called. A man came over, carrying a small box-TV, complete with twin antenna and everything. They turned it on and showed the Marshal, bruised, but alive, sitting calmly at a table, facing the camera Faith behind him, delicately holding his shoulders.
The Marshal was just staring blankly at the screen telling everyone to remain calm and apologizing to the Father and his believers. While telling anyone viewing that they should cooperate with the cult, he seemed to momentarily pause from his stupor, but then Faith whispered into his ear and he went back on track. He then went on to blame Deputy Jones for the all the chaos happening.
"And they're playing that on loop 24/7." Tracey said.
"They're blaming me?!" America shrieked. "I was just doing my job!"
"That's what Bliss does to you. It makes you forget. Makes you feel free. Malleable for the cult to use you. It makes you just want to stay like that forever . . . but it isn't real. None of it is. If Virgil and Tracey hadn't found me, I'd still be out there, swimmin' in a sea of Bliss. A prisoner in my own head." Whitehorse explained.
"Jesus Christ . . ." James breathed.
"And I thought John was bad." Grace growled.
"So then what do we gotta do to cripple this bitch?" America asked.
"The main issue is Bliss. More specifically: Bliss flowers." Tracey pointed to pretty much every area on the map of the Henbane. "Just like in Holland Valley, the cult bought out a lot of the land here and started growing those damn weeds. You can't go a mile without seeing an acre of the stuff."
"They got fields all over the Henbane River, even turned the Sacred Skies Youth Camp into one massive drug farm." Virgil pointed to said camp on the map. "Most of the product made there is shipped all over the county. The Bliss you've dealt with has probably come from there."
"So, take that place out we'll ruin a chunk of their supply." Grace surmised.
"Exactly. But the flowers are only part of the step. They also got places where they process the stuff into their actual drugs. Eden's Convent, Whistling Beaver Brewery, and the Jessop Conservatory all focus on the production and spreading of Bliss." Virgil said.
"And let me guess, they're dumping their processed Bliss all over the landscape?" America asked rhetorically, remembering the weird bliss-fused fertilizer John's people were making.
"They are. Dumping it right into the water. If it weren't for Adelaide at the Marina fighting them on the water, they probably would have succeeded in poisoning the whole lake."
"Oh yeah, we were told that the Drubman Marina was also a safe haven like here. What can you tell us about that?" James asked.
"Only that it's been a huge help. Adelaide has been personally leading the charge, keeping the waterways safe, delivering us food and supplies, but it's a lot of work and she's only one woman with one helicopter. She even helped us fend off an assault a couple days ago." Virgil thumbed to the boys behind him, fiddling with the radio. "They're trying to reach her to tell her what's happened, but the signals bad at the moment."
"Well keep trying. We need to all work together if we're going to defeat the cult. Are there any other allies out there like Adelaide? People that are taking the fight to the cult?" America asked.
"Well, there is the Black Hood and Heaven's Outlaws." Tracey added
"Who are they?" America questioned.
"Heaven's Outlaws is a biker gang that got stranded here when the cult struck. They've been on the roads destroying Bliss trucks and killing peggies. Not that it matters, since the cult seems practically endless." Whitehorse answered.
"They're led by a man named Grey Kold. And let me be perfectly clear here, these guys are definitely criminals. They were causing some ruckuses before the cult became enemy number one. But they have saved some people and any enemy of Eden's Gate is an ally of ours."
"They're still scum though." Virgil crossed his arms. "We're better off without their help if you ask me."
"We'll keep that in mind." America mumbled slightly. "And this Black Hood?"
"We don't really know anything about him. Never even seen him and according to the people he's saved no one else has either. He apparently wears a mask." Virgil responded.
"She's saved many of the people here from the cult, so we haven't looked into her a lot. But as long as she's helping people we don't really care, though we don't know how she's surviving all on her own out there."
"Wait." James interjected, confused. "Do you not even know if they're a man or a woman?"
"Well . . . no." Virgil replied simply.
"I like to think it's a woman." Tracey said snidely.
"Man, woman, doesn't matter. Point is, we need all the help we can get. We'll keep an eye out for these people." The Deputy then thought back to the amount of people in the infirmary. "I saw a lot of people in your infirmary. How are you on men?" America asked.
The three remained quiet for a somber moment, then Whitehorse pointed to the wall where the control room was. On the wall were a bunch of names scrawled on with marker.
"We get more people coming in every day. Lots of them are already injured and can't fight, then there are those that have fought and can't keep doing it. Faith may not get past these walls, but she's bleeding us dry at this point." The Sheriff said.
"You can send some of your wounded to Fall's End. Same goes for any non-combatants like children. We got enough people there to protect them and look after them and hardly any peggies to bother them." America offered.
"The clinic over there is still running too. Just yesterday, Nick and Kim gave birth to their new daughter." Grace reported happily.
That news was received very positively by a majority of people listening. The Sheriff grinned and even Tracey cracked a smile. Virgil seemed the most thrilled, nearly dancing with joy.
"That's great news!"
"We'll have a convoy bring you more men if you need 'em and then send your injured safely to Fall's End." America said.
"Speaking of medical treatment, you want to explain to me why you guys don't have a doctor right now?" James asked.
The three looked awkwardly between themselves.
"The good doctor was looking into the Angels. The zombified slaves of the cult." Virgil explained.
"I've run into them. John had quite a few in his bunker." America replied.
"Well, Dr. Lindsey has been researching them for some time, trying to find out if he can reverse their condition."
America gave a slight look of doubt. She had seen firsthand the result of Angels. Even meth-heads had better chances of getting better, but the Angels? She didn't want to be so despondent, but she highly doubted there was a way to reverse that.
"He wanted to go out into the field to do some research, but we needed him here."
"He wasn't happy about that and snuck out early this morning with a group of sympathizers. We were going to send out a search party, but the cult attacked." Sheriff said.
"We'll go get him. The sooner we can get this guy the sooner he can heal your people and my dog."
"Your dog?" Virgil said, giving perplexed face.
"She means Boomer, Rae-Rae's dog." Whitehorse clarified.
Virgil nodded in understanding, but then returned to his confused look. "Wait, why do you have Boomer?"
America stayed silent for a bit, which was all the answer Whitehorse needed. "She's dead, isn't she?"
"Her and her whole family. Boomer was all that was left." She said sadly.
Virgil removed his glasses and squeezed his eyes, saying "No. No. No."
Everyone that was in ear shot heard the news as well and the room that was filled with happy cheers a moment ago was now somberly quiet.
"Then I guess, we have more of a reason to get Charles back." Whitehorse said.
"Agreed." Virgil said, putting his glasses back on, his face more stoic.
Even though she had no attachment to Rae-Rae or her family or even her dog for that matter, Tracey knew how important this hound was now and she pointed to a spot on the map.
"The Doctor left a note saying he was heading to here, the Mastodon Geothermal Park. If you're going to go get him, then I'm gonna ask you to make a detour on the way to pick someone else up."
"No! No way, we are not asking for that criminal's help." Virgil argued, knowing exactly who the young girl was talking about.
"He's perfect for the job and you know it Virgil!" She argued back.
"I told you, we're not getting his help! He's a pyromaniac for crying out loud. He burned down the roller rink and nearly burned down my office too!"
"That was labeled and accident, Virgil." Whitehorse pointed out.
"I don't care!"
"Uh, you guys mind filling us in on what you're talking about?"
"The best way we can figure on getting rid of all those Bliss Fields quickly, without coming into contact with them is by setting them on fire."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It is and that's why we need a professional to help destroy the fields, but not spread the fires."
Both James and Grace had a look of realization dawn on them.
"Oh boy, I know who you're talking about now." James rubbed his neck.
"Sharky Boshaw." Grace practically groaned.
"Who?" America asked, too new to the county to remember any name that wasn't a peggie.
"A criminal! A menace!"
"Virgil." Whitehorse tried calming to man down. He then sifted through some of the papers to pull out a wanted poster. On it was a bearded white male, wearing a ball cap, shades, and sweats. His description said he was 37, was 6 feet tall, with blue eyes and brown hair, and was born on October 2, 1980. On the poster was a list of misdemeanors including: Arson, Destruction of Property, Indecent Exposure, and Illegal Possession of Firearms.
'What a ringing endorsement.' She thought sarcastically.
"So, you want this guy to get rid of all the Bliss Flower Fields?"
"That's right. There's no one else in Hope County that knows how to control a fire like Sharky." Tracey said.
"You think this is wise to have someone like this help us?"
"Sharky's a lot of things, but he's not a bad guy. Sure, he's burned down a couple of buildings here and there and he's always ran whenever we try to arrest him, but no one ever got hurt and when he's caught, he does his time and doesn't try to stir up trouble." Whitehorse vouched.
"He sounds like a pain."
"HE IS! And that is exactly why—"
"But we need him."
The look of disbelief on Virgil's face would have been hilarious to America if the conversation didn't require her to be serious.
"Sorry, Virgil, but we don't have the luxury of being choosers. We need all the help we can get. If this Sharky guy is willing to help us fight the peggies and get rid of their drugs, all the more reason we should ask for his help."
Virgil palmed his forehead. "I can't believe this."
"You said we could pick him up on the way? Where is he?"
Tracey pointed to a place called the Moon Flower Trailer Park. "We heard radio chatter that he's here. He's been going on about barbeques or parties or whatever. We haven't been able to send people out to check on him."
"Because it'd be a waste to spend our people on one low-down criminal." Virgil said sourly.
"We'll pick him up on the way to grab Doctor Lindsey. If there's nothing else, then we'll resupply and head out while the day is still young."
Sheriff Whitehorse looked to his cohorts and they shook their heads no. "Alright, Rookie." He handed them each a walkie-talkie. "Stay in touch with us through these. They have their own signal so they can't be hacked by the cult. Stop at the front desk, the Quartermaster there will give you ammo and whatever supplies you need. Be careful out there, we've lost too many to the cult."
"Yes sir." The three started heading out, but America stopped mid-way when she recalled something.
She turned to the three leaders and asked, "Have any of you seen a young woman of my age come by through here? Her name's Cass Redler, red hair, green eyes, tough as nails, with a hard accent? She came through the Henbane a few days ago, but didn't come back. Last I was told she was fighting the cult rescuing civilians."
The three shared a look for a moment. "Sorry to say, Deputy, but a lot of people go missing in this region." Virgil said.
"It's true. Unlike in John's region, Faith likes to take people captive. If your friend did come through here, she didn't stop here." Tracey added.
"Oh, I see." She said dejectedly.
The Sheriff quickly tried picking her up. "But every now and then we get new people coming through with loads of information. If we ask around, I'm sure we can learn something about your friend."
That gave America just a bit of hope. "Thank you, Sheriff."
The trio visited the Quartermaster and stocked up on ammo, explosives and food. They each took a turn in the restroom to do business and wash up. While waiting on her allies, America visited Boomer one more time and comforted him the best she could. He looked so tired; his body was shaking. They needed to find Doctor Lindsey soon so he could operate.
When they were all set, they headed out and saw the Cougars had finished unloading all the supplies they brought them. They had refueled their cars too. Before they left though, America's name was called. Up on the wall was Tracey, motioning for the Rookie to come meet her. After telling her team to wait, America climbed the ladder and met with the woman.
"Listen, I'm sorry about before. Wasn't cool. Ask anyone here; I do tough pretty good but the rest ... well I'm working on it." She said honestly.
"It's alright . . . We're all under a lot of stress right now. Boomer's just . . . he's too important to me to lose."
"I get it. So, restart. Welcome." She held out her hand and America shook it in kind.
"So, is this all you wanted? To just apologize and start over?"
"Not quite. I heard about some of the things you've done, fighting the peggies. One of those things was destroying John's "YES" sign. Kudos by the way. So, I thought maybe you'd be willing to help me out with a similar project when you get back with the Doc."
"What kind of project?"
Tracey pointed to the mountain off in the distance.
"You see that giant statue on the hill?"
"See it? Eyesore was hard to miss when we went to go arrest Joseph Seed."
"Faith had her groupies build that concrete eyesore for her sick pilgrimage. You seen them? Those sad fuckers marching their way to that statue, carrying slabs of stone on their backs? It's horrible. I wanna tear down that statue. Let all them fuckers know their Father ain't no fucking God. He's just a man."
"So why don't you then?"
"Haven't had the time. Been coordinating search and rescue parties and fending off the crazed cultists. It's not a priority, Virgil said. But with your aid we just might be able to get rid of that overgrown, overcompensating piece of crap. What do you say Rook? You wanna help me drive a big fuck you sized hole into that thing?"
America looked over at that statue, giving it a seething eye. "I'm in. When I get back, we'll plan an attack."
"That's what I like to hear." The two clasped hands again in a sisterly admiration.
With an understanding now between the two, America climbed down and walked back to her truck. Grace and James were all ready to head out.
"What was that about?" James asked.
"Tell you later, we're burning day light."
She had just opened the door when they were stopped once again, this time by Virgil.
"Hold on!" The old mayor called, running toward them with a box in hand.
"What is it, Virgil?" America asked, slightly annoyed at being stopped again.
After Virgil caught his breath, he reached into the box and handed them each a Cougar button. "I forgot to give you these."
"What is this?"
"A button! To show you're one of us."
The three looked down at their buttons and then looked at Virgil who was smiling proudly at what he just did.
"Welcome to the Cougars!"
We're finally done with the Holland Valley. I'm so glad I've reached this part because it's at this point I'm going to add some non-canon things to my story. I'm not gonna veer from the main plot, no, it's still going to go in the same direction as the game, but I'm adding things that I would have really liked to see in the story. My own personal touches if you will. I gave some hints with some new characters I mentioned. You'll see.
Also, as I'm sure you've all noticed, after much consideration and thought, I've changed the name of the story to Hope County Crusade. I think it fits perfectly with what I'm trying to write. I'd like to thank Hootyman for giving me the suggestion.
Have a Happy Thanksgiving everyone and stay safe and healthy out there!