A/N: I am not going to lie, y'all; these last two months kicked my butt--- in a good way, though. Work picked up, but also I was OUTSIDE y'all. Touching grass and having a ball, I decided that I was going to live this summer and I've been doing just that. Because I was late with Episode 3, both Episodes 3 and 4 are dropping tonight. On the last night of the month. If you havent checked out Episode 1 and Episode 2, make sure you go check those out so that you're all caught up.
Summary: When a coordinated attack plunges the United States into permanent darkness, the country's wealthiest find their failsafes have failed them. Their private bunkers — built for exactly this moment — are sealed, inaccessible, dead. With nowhere else to turn, they converge on the only light visible for miles: a lone house on a hill.
The owner isn't home. Someone else is.
Casting: You: The Interviewer Sterling K Brown as Jerry Sabina Karlsson as Lenora Nicole Beharie as Beatrice Morris Chestnut as Roman Aldis Hodge as Xavier Tyler James Williams as Mark Precious Lee as Arabella Lawrence Fishbourne as Jackson Luke James as Peter ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
12/27/2025
Interviewer sits in his office, typing away at his desk
Woman: Hey, someone is at the front door asking for you
Interviewer: Do you know who it is?
Woman: He won’t say.
Interviewer: Okay, bring him in.
The woman gestures for a man to come into the room. Jackson appears withered. The creases in his forehead have deepened since we last saw him. He sits down opposite the interviewer and stares at the table.
Interviewer: How can I help you, Jackson?
Jackson: Help me? He chuckles.
Interviewer: Yes. How can I help?
Jackson: Since you insist on helping me. There is one thing you can do. I’ve been in the military for many years. I did a lot of things and saw a lot of shit. I've been through the worst of it. One thing that has kept me alive through all those times has been my gut. I’ve been asking myself why I get a sharp pain in my asshole whenever I think of you.
Interviewer: I didn’t know you thought of me, Jackson. What do you think about?
Jackson: I’m glad you asked. When you first came around, I thought you were a shit reporter looking to stir up some mess about that blackout. Everybody was covering it, and while no one would know about me, I could see how a trail of crumbs could lead from Jerry’s ass to me. But the more I thought about how you found Peter first, then kept harassing Xavier, and how you’ve been visiting Beatrice, something just didn’t feel right.
The pain in my ass increased. I’m very resourceful, and I think you know that about me. We all looked you up, and each of us ended up on the same three landing pages. I’ve never known a local reporter to have such a quiet social media presence and only three published articles. Then I thought that maybe you were a really shit reporter trying to make your big break and salvage your dismal career. I checked with some of my friends, and that paper you mentioned never heard of you. You are renting this office space on a monthly basis, and you didn’t have a secretary until two days ago. She doesn’t even have any temp skills. She was just released from holding for disorderly conduct. The third time this month. Now, how you got her to wear a respectable outfit, answer phones, and make appointments is beyond me. Well done.
The hemorrhoid in my ass is not her, but the fact that it seems like you appeared out of nowhere around the same time that all of your accounts did. No birth certificate, no previous job— I can’t even find a kid who bullied you in middle school. I always find those. Normally, when ghosts appear, they are trying to either tell you something or take you somewhere. I’ve met many ghosts. Hell, I’ve made plenty of ‘em. Either way, I always know who they are. Who are you?
Interviewer: Maybe you misspelled my name.
Jackson: Yea. He chuckles. I thought about that. We checked every possible spelling of the name and the paper you gave us. It came up empty. The thing is, that didn’t check out either. So I’ll ask you again. Who are you?
Interviewer: I am a reporter, and I am doing a story about what happened during the blackout.
Jackson: So that’s the story you’re sticking to? Okay. Fine. You seem like a smart enough guy who would at least have started an internet presence way before a month ago, just in case anyone checked. I’m not sure if you don’t know what you’re doing or if you know exactly what you’re doing. Anyhow, something about you gives me ass pain. When my ass hurts, I do everything in my power to make it go away. Everything. Let me make it plain. You aren't who you say you are. I don’t know why you’re snooping around, but I’m gonna find out. Don’t be here when I do.
As Jackson stands up to leave, he looks back at the Interviewer.
Jackson: There were a lot of people who thought that they were smarter than me. A lot of them aren’t here anymore.
With that, he turns and leaves.
Woman: What was that all about?
Interviewer: I’m not sure. I don’t think he likes me very much.
Woman: Why? You're just writing a story.
Interviewer: There are always people who don’t want you to write about what is really going on, Lacy. Remember that
Interviewer sits in his car, recording on his device.
Interviewer: I am on the corner of Placid and Meyer. Jackson Pierce and Xavier Wilson are at a diner speaking to each other. They’ve been there for about 20 minutes.
The interviewer watches them, trying to read their lips. His phone rings.
Boss: You coming in today?
Interviewer: I’ll be there later on tonight.
Boss: How many hours do you think you’re gonna do today? I’m figuring payroll right now.
Interviewer: I’ll probably do about six hours.
Boss: Shit, you can do eight hours and make it easier on me. Where are you anyway?
Interviewer: Ross’ Diner.
Boss: Best goddamn waffles in town!
Interviewer: Yea. They’re really good. I remember when it was built. The diner was a new relic in this old town some years back. There was a grand opening with a ribbon-cutting, camera, reports and the whole nine.
Boss: Well, tell Alice I asked about her and do eight today.
Interviewer: Mmhm.
Interviewer hangs up the phone and looks out of his windshield again. This time, he notices that a woman has joined the table. He grabs his device.
Interviewer: A woman has joined the table. Strawberry blond with loose curls. Back is turned, and I can’t see her face.
The three stand up and head out the door of the diner.
Interviewer: The woman is Arabella Wilcox.
Interviewer starts the engine of his car and follows them out. He drives for an hour and arrives in a secluded neighborhood. He parks farther down to avoid being spotted. He takes several pictures of the area. This is a house he’s never seen before. Different from the residences he’s been visiting. He gets out of the car and heads back the way he came, looking for any streets he can identify. He notices that the rocky base of the hill on which the obscured house sits can be climbed. He attempts to climb the base but slips on one of the rocks, losing his footing. As he stumbles, landing on the ground, he notices something shiny in between the rocks. He gets up and heads for the rocky base again. This time, he swipes the dirt away from the rocks and peers at the shiny object lodged in between.
A voice: It’s been a while since someone has tried to break in that way.
Startled, the Interviewer turns around
A voice: Hi, there. My name is Roman Ainsworth. And you are? He flashes an alarmingly wide smile.
Interviewer: Hello, Mr. Ainsworth. I wasn’t trying to break in. I was looking for something I lost in the base of the hill there, and I was trying to retrieve it.
Roman: Oh dear. Maybe my cameras got it wrong. They saw your car, then you walking back over here, then you again trying to climb the hill. I keep telling everyone that all these technologies will be the death of us one day. All of my friends insist that AI is the future. Ah well, what is it?
Interviewer: Huh?
Roman: What did you lose?
Interviewer: Oh. Right. I lost one of my headphones.
Roman: Really? How did it manage to get out of your car?
Interviewer: Well, I must confess that I am a little lost. I turned the wrong way a while back, and I walked back down here to see if there were any recognizable streets that I could type into my GPS. In doing that, they dropped, and one landed over there.
Roman: On top of the hill?
Interviewer: No. I was just fooling around. It’s probably on the ground somewhere.
Roman: Hmmmm. Well, let me help you look for them.
Interviewer: You know, on second thought, I can just buy a new pair. But if you can help me figure out what street we’re on, that would be of most help.
Roman: Are you sure? About the headphones, I mean. I could help you look. It’s no trouble at all.
Interviewer: No, I’m sure. Thank you.
Roman: Very Well. Well, this is Ainsworth Manor.
Interviewer pauses, waiting for the rest of his response.
Interviewer: Wait, this street is called Ainsworth Manor?
Roman: Yes.
Interviewer: Oh. okay. How long have you lived here?
Roman: My family has been here for quite a long time. Since the 1920s, I believe.
Interviewer: I hope your family was rather large. There aren’t any other houses for miles. Easy to get lonely that way.
Roman: It was just my parents, my two siblings, and me.
Interviewer. Oh. Well, I hope that you made out okay in that blackout. It was brutal. I don’t know how someone could survive here. Especially after everyone’s generators died.
Roman: Oh! Yes! The blackout. That was rather unfortunate. I heard the entire town came undone. Total chaos and disarray. Such a shame. I made it out all right. Good stock of supplies and such.
Interviewer: Wait, you were here?
Roman: Oh, yes.
Interviewer: Here alone?
Roman: Yes.
Interviewer: How did you manage?
Roman: As I said, this house is very equipped to handle disasters like that. I went into town and got fresh supplies, not knowing how useful they would be in just a short while.
Interviewer: Interesting.
Roman: Why is that?
Interviewer: Well, it’s just that there are some folks who have quite a bit of means, and they struggled with supplies and such through the blackout.
Roman: That is quite interesting. Maybe they managed their resources efficiently.
Interviewer: Perhaps. It’s just that they all said that they were fully stocked on supplies, but couldn’t access their bunkers. I imagine there's a bunker beneath a house as vast as this one. Were you able to access yours?
Roman: You should enter the street into your GPS now and find your way back. It’ll be dark soon. I wouldn’t want you to be stranded. A large smile stretched across his face.
Interviewer: Right. Thank you.
Roman: I’ll walk you to your car.
Interviewer: I can make it on my own.
Roman: I insist.
When they finally arrive at the vehicle, the Interviewer climbs in and offers a wave before reversing and heading down the hill.
Arabella: Please, something’s not right. You have to help me!
Interviewer: What is going on? How did you get this number?
Arabella: Please, meet me at the corner of Main and Spring Rd. There’s a small shop there.
Interviewer: Arabella, what is this about?
Arabella hangs up the phone without answering. Interviewer gets in the car and drives to the rendezvous spot. Looking around and not seeing any viable threats, Interviewer climbs out of the car and heads towards the shop. Arabella sits off in a dark corner, watching the Interviewer look around.
Arabella: I can’t sleep, you know. I try. I try every day but I just can’t. My therapist calls it survivor’s remorse. He doesn’t quite know how wrong he is.
Interviewer: Arabella, what is going on? It’s the middle of the night.
Arabella: The night terrors are one thing. I’ve gotten used to waking up in a cold sweat. It’s the insomnia that starts to weigh you down. You start seeing things. Things that aren’t there. Things that used to be there.
Interviewer walks towards her and takes a seat across from her.
Interviewer: Is this your place?
Arabella: It’s anyone’s place.
Interviewer: You’re not making much sense to me. Where are we, and why did you call me?
Arabella: I fear that only you can help me. The others won’t listen.
Interviewer: Okay. Start from the beginning.
Arabella: crazed laugh The beginning? The beginning? We don’t have time for that.
Interviewer: I need to know what has happened and what is happening so that I can help you.
Arabella: Tricey died today. I—- I don’t understand it. The doctors said that she was stable. This morning they called me to say that everything was fine. When I got there to visit her, she was cold. Gone.
Interviewer: Did they say what happened?
Arabella: They couldn’t figure it out. They are trying to do an autop—.
Arabella falls silent. She picks at her fingernails in a repetitive cadence.
Interviewer: Arabella?
Arabella: He used to hit me. All the time. I could never dress to his liking or say the right things at those God-awful dinners that I had to prepare at the last minute. I could only speak about certain things because I had no way of knowing what could set him off. I would wake up early in the mornings and iron five shirts and three slacks. I’d place different ties and cufflinks so that he would have options. One day, I forgot to place the green tie out front, and he slapped me. He threw a shoe at me because it wasn’t polished to his liking. He treated everyone who waited on us awfully. We rotated help like underwear. The lawsuits piled up, and some threatened to go to the press. Tricey saw the edge of a bruise that I didn’t conceal all the way and took me to the bathroom. She didn’t make a scene, ridicule me, or pry. She took some powder out of her purse and pressed it into my bruise. It was gentle, silent, and tender. All the things I was lacking. We became friends. Close. Friends.
One day, he found the two of us together. It has been the best day of my life, but it started out rough. We had been fighting that morning, and he choked me. Walter and Isadora were headed to school when they heard me scream and ran upstairs. I try to shelter the kids as much as possible. I couldn’t help it. They begged him to stop. In his rage, he knocked Isadora out cold. Breathless, I crawled over to her and placed my body over hers. He paused and walked out. I drove the kids over to my mother’s after that. Walter was hysterical, and so was I. I called Tricey and she picked me up. I couldn’t form the words so my mother told her everything. Everything I had managed to tell her through sobs.
We sat in the car for a bit and then she took me into the city. Her penthouse suite was there. She took my clothes off item by item while I stared off and tried to gather the mess that was my life. She bathed me. She soaped and lathered every inch of me, taking care to mind the bruises and welts. I felt it was a cruel joke that I had to come within an inch of my life to garner such compassion. I kissed her. She kissed me back. She guided me onto the bed and began to kiss my bruises. I cried silently. She parted my legs to uncover the bruise that lay within them. She kissed those too. My breath hitched as she took my essence into her mouth and gently kissed.
That day led into the next and the next and the next. We lay together for days. I would only check my phone to speak to the children. He called me incessantly but I ignored him. I was in a sanctuary of love. On the fourth day, he barged through the door while Tricey and I were on the sofa. She had me in her mouth while she caressed my breast. At the sound of his scream, I turned quickly. He stalked toward me and Tricey slowly detangled herself from my legs, wiped her lips, and retrieved a gun from under the cushion I was sitting on. He slowed his pace. Screamed insults and demanded me to get my things. I stood there looking at Tricey. The way she moved, it was almost as if she knew he was coming. Like…she expected it. I eventually left bliss and went back to my gilded cage. Tricey stopped by every day and stood outside the gate with her gun and her security, waiting. When I ran errands, she would inspect me. He eventually found other ways to hurt me but I was physically sound. She loved me and now, she’s dead.
Interviewer: I’m so sorry for your loss, Arabella.
Arabella: I think he killed her.
Interviewer: Arabella, Mark is dead.
Arabella: Not him. The voice.
Interviewer: Arabella, the blackout is over. What makes you think the same person is still after you all?
Arabella: I never answered the part of my riddle. Mark was gone and the kids were… She offered herself up for me. I was Lust.
The remaining wake up in a dense fog. One by one, everyone slowly awakens to find they are alive.
Isadora: *sobbing* Mommy, are we going to die? I don’t want to die!
Arabella: crying Where are you Izzy? I can’t see you! Can you reach me?
Isadora: They took Daddy away?! Are they going to take me away? Why did they take Daddy away?
Arabella: I don’t know, Darling. I really don’t know. I need you and your brother to find me. How far can you reach towards the sound of my voice?
Isadora: Mommy, I’m scared! Please help me!
Arabella: Mommy is trying to reach you but I can’t reach far enough. I need you to be a brave girl! Remember we talked about being brave? I need you to do a very hard thing right now and I know that it’s scary but I need you to try. Try to reach me, Izzy.
Isadora tries to wrangle herself as far as she can towards her mother’s voice. She stretches until she finds that she can in fact, move her arms and legs. She slithers as far left as she could while Arabella talks.
Arabella: Izzy! Izzy!!! Oh, Izzy is this you?
Isadora: Yes, Mommy it’s me!
Isadora leaps into her mother’s arms and hugs her tightly. After some moments, Isadora loosens her grip.
Arabella: Where’s your brother?
Isadora: I don’t know. I don’t know if he was still with me. You told me to come to you.
Xavier: How the fuck is she free?
Arabella: Izzy, I need you to be brave once more. I need you to go back and get your brother.
Isadora: No!
Arabella: Izzy, I can’t protect the both of you if your brother isn’t here too.
Isadora: Please don’t make me go back! I’m so scared. Mommy, please I just want to go home. Let’s just go home.
Arabella: Izzy, please. I need the both of you home. I don’t know where they took your father, so it’s us three for now. I’m still tied up. Can you be the brave girl you were just now?
Isadora: Mommy, I’m scared
Tabitha: Please help us, Izzy!
Peter: Izzy, none of us grown-ups are able to free ourselves. Could you tell us how you got free?
Jackson: Izzy, it’s time to sink or swim, kid. I need you to find whatever key let you out and let us all out. We don’t have any time for this!
Xavier: Isadora, how did you let yourself free? Tell us!
Isadora: I don’t know! I didn’t do anything. I was just free.
Xavier: You’ve must have done something! Everyone else is still chained.
Isadora: I don’t know! I didn’t do anything!
Jackson: Shit, kid, stop fucking around and let us loose
Isadora lets out a wail
Arabella: STOP IT! ALL OF YOU! If she says she doesn’t know, then she doesn’t know. Leave her alone!
Isadora: Mommy, I swear I didn’t do anything. You told me to come and I did. continues to sob
Arabella: I know Izzy. I know. The grown-ups are still in chains. I’m not able to hold you or your brother because my hands are tied. I can’t go with you because my feet are tied. Is there any way you can crawl back over where you were and see if you can feel for a key to get us out of these?
Isadora: Mommy, I don’t know!
Voice: The time has come again where one of you must confess or one of you must fall. It seems appears that little Isadora is free. She will remain free as long as one of you solves the riddle within twenty minutes and chooses her as the survivor. It’s only fitting that I choose the matriarch of the family to do the honors. Failure to solve this riddle will result in the demise of both children
Arabella: No! No! You will not harm a hair on their heads, you hear me?
Voice: No. I won’t harm them. You’ll be the one to harm them as you’ve always done. You will have to choose which one lives and which one dies at the sound of the alarm.
Arabella: You said one of us can confess. If we make a confession, none of them have to die, right?
Voice:
I wear no face, yet I've stolen a thousand
I live in the palace and sleep with the peasant.
I am not the wound, but I sharpen the blade,
I am not the shadow but I darken the shade.
I arrive before wanting and leave after shame,
I have no true owner yet answer when named.
The righteous have buried me, deep in the ground —
Yet here in your chest, I am already found.
What breathes without lungs and burns without flame
That saints have renounced but can never quite tame?
What am I, if not…..
Arabella: I don’t know. I’m not good with riddles. Please! Take me and leave my children alone!
Voice: You have twenty minutes.
Arabella: *looks around* One of you knows why we are all tied like hogs, and my children are being threatened. How many lives have to be lost for one of you all to just tell this miscreant what he wants to hear!! I’m begging you. None of these children deserves any of this. They are innocent! Say what you know!
Jackson: Seems like there’s something you know, too. Why did that sick fuck say that you harm those children?
Arabella: He’s deranged. How do I know? I’ve never laid a hand on their heads.
Jackson: You know something. Maybe that's what he wants.
Arabella: Jackson, excuse my language, but I think that is utter bullshit and you know it. He’s been saying this from the start. One of you is the reason we are here.
Xavier: Arabella, I think you need to focus on the riddle. We don’t know what this man is getting at but we do know that if someone doesn’t solve this riddle then someone will die. We don’t want that to happen.
Isadora: Mommy, is he going to kill me? I don’t want to die. Please help me!! Isadora screams
Arabella: Izzy, I need you to go back and get your brother. I’m trying to get us out of this. Izzy, be brave!
Isadora crawls back over to her right in search of her brother.
Isadora: Walter, are you there? Can you reach me? Walter?? Walter, say something.
Tabitha: Izzy, I don’t think that he is doing so well.
Isadora: Walter, can you touch me if you hear me?
Arabella: Walter, honey, please try to reach out for your sister so that she can lead you to me.
Isadora: Walter?
Isadora feels around in the space that used to be occupied by Walter
Isadora: Mommy, Walter is gone.
Arabella: What do you mean, he is gone? Where could he go, Izzy? Tabitha, he was beside you, wasn’t he?
Tabitha: Yes, Mrs. Alexander. But then I didn’t hear anything when we woke up this last time. I thought something had happened, like with Benji.
Arabella: Walter? Answer me honey!!! Walter!!?!?!
Xavier: Keep your voice down, Arabella. Focus on the riddle. Maybe Walter will come out after we solve the riddle.
Peter: The voice said you would have to choose. I don’t like this at all.
Arabella: Peter, please help me. You’re good with riddles. Do you know this one?
Peter: I’m not sure that I have the answer, Arabella. I don’t want to be wrong and then jeopardize everything. I’m sorry.
Arabella: *she cried* Someone please help me! You all have to help Walter and Izzy, please! I’m begging you.
Voice: Your twenty minutes will conclude in five. Do you have an answer to the riddle?
Arabella: No, please! I need more time. I don’t know the answer. Please stop this!!!
Voice: You have three minutes.
Arabella: Please! *she looks around* One of you, help me!!! Any one of you!!!
Voice: Two minutes.
Arabella: Don’t let him take my baby!
Xavier: Stop this. The kids don’t need to be involved. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.
Voice: Tell everyone why you are all here today.
Xavier: Can you be more specific?
Voice: What is the reason for the blackout?
Xavier: There was a bombing. Everyone has been talking about the war with Panama. The U.S. went overseas because they had American political hostages. Some of the tech we created was used and one of them misfired. It hit a village full of civilians and the death toll was higher than what was publicly announced. We provided aid and some funds to them in secret also.
Voice: Almost, Xavier. Almost, but not quite. Time is up, Arabella. Run little Isadora. RUN!
Fireworks erupt near the circle. A startled Isadora started running into the darkness. The fireworks continue firing towards Isadora’s direction, then a different sound emerges. A round of bullets start firing towards a frantic Isadora, desperately trying to escape until one strikes her in her back. Falling to the ground with a shriek, Isadora cries out once more for her mother until another bullet pierces her neck. The array of bullets stops then. With no time to react, Walter emerges suspended from one of the tree branches. Bound and gagged, tear stains are all that are seen to indicate his distress. Arabella screams.
Beatrice: We weren’t supposed to be there. We invaded because it was an opportune time to seize the canal. Jerry’s entire platform was used to get the American people around seeing Panama and their minute control of trade as a major threat to the economy. We told him to cry out against Panamanian refugees and citizens of Panamanian descent. Most of them were black so they were easy to otherize. There were race riots.
We spliced footage and spun peaceful protests outside the detention facilities into crimes of passion and terror. It always works. People are predictably dense. Once Jerry was in office, there would be enough votes. Enough votes to convince Congress to pass a bill meant to increase the defense budget to approve the use of Mark’s AI drones and the ultimate invasion of Panama for…
Jackson: Beatrice, STOP!
Beatrice: This has to end! How many children are you going to watch die tonight?
Voice: You forget, Beatrice, he has caused far many more deaths then he cares to admit. The riddle has still been left unsolved but some truths have been told. Little Walter lives to see another day but no good deed goes unpunished.The gas arises once more, surrounding them in their thick cloud. Visibility is low, but everyone hears a loud thud. Walter cries in pain but his cries and coughs are muffled by the gag in his mouth. Arabella screams for Walter until they all grow silent.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Again, thanks for reading my first attempt at a suspense thriller. If you're coming across me for the first time and want to be tagged in this fic or any others, please comment and let me know you wanna be tagged!
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Now this tea ☕️ is not fresh. It has been brewing for a while now, but it’s never too stale to grab a cup and pour yourself some 🫖
Good Girl, Bad Habits 💕 ⤵️
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The last several mornings, I’ve been dipping into Zora Neale Hurston’s TELL MY HORSE. This is her nonfiction work about her time in Haiti and Jamaica - infused with her wit and humor. SYNOPSIS: Based on acclaimed author Zora Neale Hurston's personal experiences in Haiti and Jamaica—where she participated as an initiate rather than just an observer during her visits in the 1930s—Tell My Horse is a fascinating firsthand account of the mysteries of Voodoo. An invaluable resource and remarkable guide to Voodoo practices, rituals, and beliefs, it is a travelogue into a dark, mystical world that offers a vividly authentic picture of ceremonies, customs, and superstitions. #ZoraNealeHurston #NonFiction #Reading #AmReading #TellMyHorse #Jamaica #Haiti #Voodoo #History #Religion #Anthropology #Travel #Classic #Folklore #Memoir #AfricanAmerican #Spirituality #FemaleAuthor #BlackAuthor https://www.instagram.com/p/CoNAmfoLE0P/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
