Episode 12.0 - The GRavekeeper

Episode Credits:

Amanda Hufford as Hannah

Sarah Golding as Beth

James Holyeoke as Cheeky Narrator

Writing and Sound Design by Damian Szydlo

Sensitivity and Script Reading by Mak Shepard

TRANSCRIPT

[FADE IN]

[The echo of a rifle shot sounds out over a damp, sleepy British morning in the countryside.

Beth slings her rifle back over her shoulder. Sounds of walking through an open field, a sled dragging behind her. Let the morning ambience really settle in.]

BETH

“A little late in the day for wanderers, don’t you think? [sighs] Alright, you. I suppose there’s time for one more. Let’s see just who it is we have here, then…”

[EFFORT: light strain as she rolls the body of the downed zombie over]

“Don’t think you’re one of ours, are you? No. You’re a bit too… juicy for that I’d say. Oh! Oh, dear! Listen to that! Just sounds wrong, doesn’t it? Too fresh, maybe? I just mean that you’re not ‘prepared’ enough to be from around here, is all. Poor bugger. You’re the third this week. It must be getting right desperate out there… Oh well. Won’t do much good dwelling on it. Might as well see what you’ve got in your pockets, then.”

[sounds of patting the body down before rifling through their wallet]

“Ohh, fancy! Well-to-do fellow, aren’t we? Calfskin wallet near full-to-bursting with gold and platinum charge cards! Not that it’s anything to anyone these days. I’m afraid all the American dollars in the world can’t buy our way out of this mess… 

So, Mr. Kierinhawk is it? Pleased to meet you, dear. I’m Beth. I suppose you could call me a Gravekeeper by trade [pauses a moment] Which means you’ve found yourself in the right place, haven’t you? There’s a strange sense of rightness to that isn’t there? As if your feet brought you all the way to the spot you needed to be come hell or high water. Made it in before last call, too. It’s some fortune we ran into each other! Lucky duck, you are! Everyone deserves a proper rest, after all. Come on then, let’s get you up on the sled while there’s still daylight to be had. Mind the gap… 

[EFFORT: rolls body onto her sled] 

We’ll have you in the ground right alongside the rest of ‘em before you know it. It just so happens we’ve still got plenty of vacancies.”

[starts dragging the sled along behind her, humming a tune]

BETH NARRATION

“Alright. I’ll just go ahead and admit it. Pay heed to the elephant in the room, as it is. Now, it might very well be that I’ve gone completely off my mentals… which is to be somewhat expected given the circumstances, I think. Could be said that it’s even a best-case scenario. Used to be that keeping up appearances was important to people.

Not anymore. Not since the end of the world came and went. I say that’s for the best, really. We used to spend a lot of time pretending to be people we weren’t. I’m much happier these days. You know, about the end of the world… heard the Yanks got it far worse than we did. They say that ground zero for this wretched thing was across the pond. Whatever nastiness it was that turned wonderful… and let’s be honest, some less than wonderful persons, into a bunch of snarling cannibals, but who am I to judge? The news, when there still was such a thing, said they fought the so-called zombies over there with robots if you can believe that!? Not much of a stretch to imagine those tin cans couldn’t tell the difference between living and well… less than living folk in the end. Terrible. [laughs to herself] Not that we were much better here, of course. It’d be easy to say the Yanks had their heads up their collective all-consuming arse if we’d done any better ourselves. Truth is, we were just another brand of lunacy. A different flavour. Denying the whole affair until it was on our doorstep.

It wasn’t long before all that chaos made its way here, as anyone could have told you. The whole affair had no right to catch us with our trousers down but it did. Bunch of muppets. Wouldn’t have honestly mattered though, what anyone did. Manchester, Birmingham, London… all went dark. Little lights being snuffed out all over Britain, one after the other. It’s been five years since. Full on tragedy, that… 

[a little bit of amusement slipping in now] 

but to be absolutely fair… maybe it didn’t exactly turn out so bad for SOME of us. What I mean is that before, well, you know the big [makes dying sound] I wasn’t the most upstanding of citizens. Never really found a place in that world of theirs; let alone any peace of body or mind… so it was that I met the end of the world while serving my time. Armed robbery, if you’d believe it. A British Bonny without a Clyde. Oh, it was exciting work though! [loudly] ‘Any of you bloody pricks move and I’ll execute every last one of ya!’. Got that one from Pulp Fiction. Fantastic little film, that. Used to work real well, too. 

[Imitates a clerk]

‘Oh please, miss, please. Take anything… Take EVERYTHING!’ Heh. Till it didn’t… work, I mean. Eventually someone got brave and I got nabbed. Sent off to the clink for twenty years! Hadn’t harmed a single person either. I’d never do such a thing, not as if they cared, the bougie twats. Anyhow, I was mid transfer to Downview, in Sutton, when things started off. Was feeling a bit carsick if I remember it right. Stowed in the back of an armoured people-mover with some of the other ladies. Suddenly we stopped. Dead halt. Literally as it was. Traffic as far as the eye could see! The officer in a panic, bless his heart, told us that the zombies had made it to Britain and he was quitting the prison business right then and there. Best of luck to us, he said. Just like that, with the turn of a key, we were free. Not the most responsible thing to do but I wasn’t about to lecture him. People talk a good bit about second chances but it’s rare you ever get one in this life, innit? I’m a big fan of the ‘Second Chance’. I like to think I’ve made the best of it. Found my place after all.

[Stops pulling the sled for a moment with relief]

Oh well! That’s enough of that talk. We’ve made it! Wasn’t much of a hike at all, ‘specially when I’ve got good company like yourself Mr. Kierinhawk. Welcome to Westshire Meadows! Last home you’ll ever need. I’m not exactly sure who you were before you became… well you know, a zombie… but it wouldn’t have been right to just leave you out there in the fields… rotting. Alone. Like you’d never been anybody at all. It’s just disrespectful! So, I mean… well I suppose it’s the least someone can do. I’m not so sure it’s up to the standards of a good Christian burial or nothin’, if you’re even one of those religious types to begin with… but it’s something. You’ll be properly cared for here. That I can promise. Feel free to ask the others! You’ve a fantastic batch of neighbours if we’re being honest.

[starts pulling the sled again]

See, there’s Sarah! That’s the original Sarah, too. First one we had at Westshire. Oh, and that tombstone there? That belongs to old Parson Rex. He was already here before I took up the job of Gravekeeper so you can only imagine how surprised I was when he got up and crawled out from the muck one day. That’s when I learned that whatever this is, this sickness that gets into some folks… it can get into bodies it’s got no right or reason to have had contact with. As long as there’s something that used to be human… there’s a good chance it’ll regenerate. Scary, innit? That’s why I stay on guard here at Westshire. It’s not just you wanderers we’ve got to look after. One can never be too sure when an old tenant might get a little restless and go for a stroll. Fortunately, they never do get too far. They’re a fair bit slower than the ones turned while they were still alive. All dried up. That’s what I meant when I said you were… umm… juicier. Anyway! Moving on!

See that marker there? Well, that’s none other then our Alex Doddy! Oh, he was a handsome fellow, he was. ‘Fresh’ too, much like yourself. Nearly had my dear old Murrey for lunch. Speaking of… where is that bleedin’ dog? Murrey! Come here, boy!

[barking as Murrey approaches to meet Beth for some rough ol’ petting]

BETH [TO MURREY]

“There you are! You dirty ol’ bugger. What ever have you been up to? Oh, nevermind. I want you to meet Mr. Kierinhawk. How about you have a sniff, would you? There we are! Good dog.”

BETH

“Once things kicked off I figured out pretty quickly that dogs have a sort of sense for you wanderers. It’s why you hate them, I suppose. Problem is that the only hound I have for the job is old Murrey here and he’s not exactly the most mobile pup for a long trek. Three legs and a will to please, he’s got the spirit, God bless him… but it’s best he sticks to Westshire when I go out on the town. As long as you check out with Murrey then you’re good enough to be put to rest. Nothing I hate more than doing a job twice… well I imagine it’d be wasting ammunition. Consider Murrey the best way to make sure this arrangement we’re entering is a permanent one, short of a good double-tap! 

[huffs as she stops the sled pulling again]

Here we are. Right beside Ms. Oberman. You behave yourself now. She’ll not have any cheeky behaviour from some rowdy new neighbour and his extravagant fancies. We’ve high expectations for tenants here at Westshire. [exertion as Beth drags the body off the sled] Mind the flowers then!… Alright! In you go! A hole in the ground as good as any!”

[Thunder as a storm threatens, Beth pulls a shovel out of some dirt and starts to bury the body while Murrey starts to bark]

BETH

“Looks to be not a moment too soon. Let’s get you tucked in… Storm’s coming early.”

[Effort noises as she keeps shovelling for awhile as the scene drifts away]

[FADE OUT]

NARRATOR GUY

“Beth Silverton would go on to care for the recently deceased undead ‘residents’ of Westshire Meadows for many years to come. In time she would astoundingly fill every vacancy in the cemetery, save one. Beth would live peacefully until the hardy age of 92 years young. She'd diligently continue tending to each grave as if they were her own family and friends before retiring to her very own reserved stake of land. A simple marker and a personalised headstone made just for her. She’d secretly hoped that one day someone might just come along and tend her grave just as she’d done for countless others. To finish the job. Tuck her in, as it is. [sound of a gunshot in the country air] Oh. That was quite dark, wasn’t it? If you really must know, she’d never actually get that wish of hers. Instead, a skulk of foxes would eventually build themselves a burrow beside ol’ Beth’s bones, and that graveyard which she so diligently kept would fall into disrepair. Returning to nature as things do with barely a trace of all that loving toil. Oh well. I guess it was good while it lasted. I suppose we’ll just have to make due with these adorable foxes! I mean, would you look at them? What a consolation prize, Listener!

The End.

[give it about 5 seconds or so]

You’re… you’re still here, aren’t you? That was it. That was our irreverent eulogy. Story over… Oh come on now! It's not that bad an ending! Ms. Silverton poured her love into the world and the world would reciprocate by rejuvenating itself. It’d use the bodies as fertiliser. The circle of life continues.

No? It’s poetic! There was even an adorable fox in it! Alright, alright. I suppose we can have another one. I know what you’re here for. So predictable.

[sighs in defeat]

Murrey the Dog, our Bestest Boy, would not survive until he was 92 years of age. That rascal would, however, sneak off and spend his twilight years just as he’d spent most of the ones before then - primarily by rolling in the proverbial hay with some of the local strays while Beth was out on the town gathering much required supplies. No, really. Murrey’s prolific sexual escapades would inevitably produce a good half dozen litters that would survive even until this very day. The proud zombie fighting lineage of the Bestest Boy in all of Britain. But that, Listener, is another story for a different time. We don’t want to keep Hannah waiting, do we?

[FADE OUT]