Red Tide² ━ FTWD

CHAPTER 14: Cycle of Violence

RED TIDE

chapter fourteen: cycle of violence

[ season 2, episode 4; blood in the streets ]

DAY 21

Heather felt a jolt under her seat as the Abigail's engine thrummed to life. Travis wasn't bluffing after all — by starting the boat, he'd saved their lives. Though, she had a sinking feeling it was less a full pardon than simply a stay of execution. Jackass and Alicia had already returned, the girl the only member of their group who was fortunate enough to go without her hands tied — a fact that was of no benefit to anyone, as another ship arrived and brought with it the rest of their friends from the radio.

Three people entered — a ginger woman with what looked to be a semi-automatic rifle, a balding man with a pistol, and one in the middle who looked like a slightly older version of their worse captor. Unlike the others, he was unarmed, yet led the charge. Their leader, she realized. Connor. He didn't bother to check his surroundings for threats, only scanned the deck like he was touring an open house, completely assured of his safety. Cocky asshole.

"This is a gorgeous vessel," he said with awe and a hint of pride — as if hijacking such a great boat was somehow a reflection of how wonderful he was. Heather decided she wouldn't mind at all seeing him get tossed to the dead.

At the bar, Vida glanced down to her untouched glass. "Finally," she muttered as Reed and Travis came down the stairs.

Connor turned to the eldest blonde, face creasing in what looked like concern as he noticed the dried blood trickle from the left side of her head. "What happened?" he demanded.

"She hit her head," Vida deadpanned.

"You couldn't clean her up?" Connor looked around at his crew, almost disappointed. "Jesus, guys, come on." From his tone, Heather guessed he was less upset with them for having done the deed than he was for leaving their dirty laundry out for him to witness. She doubted pirates had strict policies on how they treated their prisoners — especially not ones who routinely harassed and threatened their teenage captives.

Reed stepped past the bar with Travis, holding the man by the collar of his coat. Her stomach roiled at the sight of his pudgy smirk again, and briefly pictured him as one of the dead — milk-white eyes and a vacant face, waiting for her to put an axe through it.

She decided that would be the end of it — by the time the sun set on this thoroughly shitty day, Reed's blood would be on her hands. One way or another.

Reed shoved Travis forward and said, "This is the one who started the boat."

"Travis," Connor greeted. "You and Alicia come with us."