Episode 15.0 - Ain’t NO GRAVE

Episode Credits:

Amanda Hufford as Hannah

Abigail Turner as Cali

Jordan Rudolph as Mel

Will Handford as Jameson, Bogart, Ol' Blind Pete, Raider 1

Tom Schalk as Rictor

Ryan Hoyle as Reggie

Madeline Dorroh as Raider 2

Writing and Sound Design by Damian Szydlo

Sensitivity and Script Reading by Mak Shepard

TRANSCRIPT

[FADE IN]

[scene starts with wind and dread, all the way back in Illinois where we left Rictors body]

RICTOR

[Rictor is disoriented and doesn’t yet realise that he’s dead or really what has happened. We hear his footsteps kind of shuffle.]

“Damn… I mean good God damn! Hell of a rabbit’s foot that girl’s packin’. Either that or something wicked’s watching after her because there’s no man, woman or child that’s got the best of me twice. Twice! Can you believe that? Zombie of hers really did a number on me, too… The little shit’s even went and stole my truck. Ain’t that just insult to injury?”

[hears a zombie sound]

“Well, well, well! Sounds to me like I wasn’t the first one that zombie of hers got into now, was I? This ought to be fun. You just hold on one minute there while I find where my crowbar got off to… Cause I’ll be happy to oblige you by bashing… [said with strain as he tries to move a body that won’t move] What the fuck…”

[hears the zombie again, but his questioning isn’t about that. He’s realised he can’t move.]

“I mean what the fuck is going on? Move. Move, you son of a bitch! I can’t… it’s like I’m not… Come on, damn it!”

[Sounds of a single shuffling step]

“That… wasn’t me. [realisation begins to dawn] No. No-no-no, it can’t be…

But it is, isn’t it? That thing got me. Got her teeth in. Pulled my guts out and made a meal out of me. Killed me dead… and those amateurs didn’t even stick around long enough to finish the job. They just left me layin’ dead without even thinkin’ that death by zombie is usually temporary, at best.

Is this… is this what being dead is? Just a passenger on one last, hopefully short, fucking ride and… wait. Just who in this earthly hell are you? Yeah, you. You hear me don’t you?”

[speaking to the listener now, clearly finding this development amusing.]

“Ain’t that something!? Ha! Get killed, wake up as a fresh new Zom-bag, and find out you’ve had some kind of audience all along. Alright, then. You got a name, kid?”

[Waits a moment]

“Guess not. Would have been better if you talked. I mean, who the hell would want to listen to hours of zombie rambling? Maybe you’re the silent type, is that it? S’pose that suits me just fine. A good listener’s hard to come by. Christ only knows how I could have used a few more of ‘em in my own flock. Speakin’ of good ol’ Jesus Christos, [Saying it like Hey-Zeus] is this the point where I’m supposed to confess my sins? That your job, Listener? You the Holy Ghost? Or maybe you’re the reaper themself. Tellin’ by that dumb look on your face I think it’s safe to rule out the involvement of any of the greater powers. Above or below. Hell, do you even know why you’re here at all?

That isn’t altogether fair, is it? I mean we’re talkin’ about what’s probably numero uno on humanity's collective family feud board, aren’t we? The big question. ‘Is there anything in the great here-after’? Guess dying doesn't even get you that answer. 

You know, I used to think I knew what was going on. What the rules were. How to break ‘em. Well, if you’re going to hang around here then you better get yourself cosy ‘cause it’s just about ‘story time’ with Mr. Rictor.”

[sighs to himself, thinking ‘what the hell’ as his body shambles around]

“I’ve always been a violent man. Can’t rightly remember a time in my life where I wasn’t hurting someone. That’s just the truth. Ain’t really sorry for it, neither. Thought I might be. Especially here and now as I profess my sins on the devils front porch. Regret might have made things easier; could have piled up. Make me want to be a different sort of man. A better one, maybe. Wasn’t ever going to be in the cards, though. Not for me.

You see, I’ve just never had the patience to deal with all the goddamned boredom. This place. This world we’re living in or whatever the fuck qualifies for what’s left of it. This ball of dirt. All the scavengers and the re-builders are too busy looking back on yesterday. It’s a sickness. Nostalgia for something they ain’t never even lived. I mean, just take a second to look around, ‘Listener’. Take a good, long look at this place and see for yourself what a fucking joke it all is! We got here because a bunch of morons in a different age couldn’t get their shit together. Gave all their lunch money to dim-witted geriatrics. The sort you wouldn’t trust to eat a sandwich without the chance of choking on their food. Not only let themselves get ruled on by incompetents but actually voted for ‘em, too. Can you believe that!? Fuck! Oh, they had everything, too! Access to the entire apple tree. Tastes I can’t even dream of - anything a man could ever want only an arm's reach away. Primed for the taking. 

We all know what happens next. No need for guessing. It’s all right there in history; plain to see how it all went down. Reminds me of stories where folk would actually feed birds. That’s how much they had to give away, back then. Put that feed out long enough and the birds get accustomed to it. Get real lazy. Stupid. More fucking stupid and backwards than anyone you’ve ever met - including that fool Jamison. Big and fat from that feeder, you bet those old birds forgot how to peck for worms. So, when a problem comes up they can’t handle… they don’t have a solution to anything outside of their own comfort. If they’d been men, could have been they’d of thought to do it the old-fashioned way. Bust wholesale into some zombie ass to the very last. Instead, they go and drop the bomb. BANG! Or, in this story, s’pose the bomb happens to be those fucking robots. And if I’m sure of anything, it’s that I know we can all agree those things are still a giant pain in the ass even today. That’s neither here nor there, though. Point is that they all get swept away along with the problem and THAT! That there's the punchline. 

[chuckles to himself before realising the Listener isn’t laughing]

Wait… you don’t see it, do you? It’s right in front of your face and it’s beyond you. You never starved before? Never been in a place where all you needed was a bite? Just one more bite and you’d be good. Healthy. Whole.

That’s alright. It’s a good problem to have. I’ll break it down for you. See, I live, kill, steal and fuck to survive. I don’t take more than I need. I run… or ‘ran’ that pack of mine LEAN! Always hungry. Always left wanting more than the scraps that fell down from the table because as long as you're still hungry, you’re a wolf. You’re on the ground running. Teeth sharp. In the old world? All those would-be wolves died like sparrows. Forgot what the dirt felt like. What it was like to be down in it. But there ain’t no place for wolves in a sparrow's sky, kid… so why on Earth would I want to rebuild a world where a goddamned robot couldn’t tell the difference between a zombie and a man? Why would anybody?

I realise that maybe this ain’t the kind of joke that’s all that funny to you… but it’s downright hilarious to me. It’s that hard truth. The men who followed me knew that.”

RAIDER 1

“Rictor! Hey, Rictor!? You up here?”

RICTOR

“Well, wasn’t that on cue. [realises he’s a zombie] Wait… fuck. No. You get the fuck out of here. You hear me!?”

RAIDER 1

“Ahh, shit, there you are! Thought maybe… hey, you know, just forget what I thought. BOYS! I found Rictor!

RICTOR

“No, no you didn’t. You found my shambling husk! Now get the hell out of here before I turn you into the worst, shitty-assed meal I’ve ever had in my entire goddamned life!”

RAIDER 2

“Don’t think he’s gonna be all that happy. That little girl fucked him up again… I mean, look. He’s staggerin’”

RAIDER 1

“He ain’t staggerin’. Or maybe he is… just… don’t let him hear you say that, alright? He’ll make you a crispy, crackly bitch like that Jameson kid. Bacon-face. So shut it. Unless you wanna get close and friendly with some coals? Cause I sure as hell don’t!”

RICTOR

“What the hell’s the matter with you two? Can’t you idiots see I’m a fucking zombie? Listener, can’t you do something? I mean look at ‘em. Look how damn stupid they are. It ain’t right.” 

RAIDER 2

“Woah. Wait, look at him. Do you see that? See anything… off?”

RAIDER 1

[sounding grim]

“Yeah. Yeah I think I do.”

RICTOR

“Oh, thank Christ for whatever magic or dumb luck you went and worked. Now, if you idiots could just pull out that fireman’s axe you’ve got there -”

RAIDER 2

[says stupidly]

“His fly’s down! Boss, your fly’s down!”

RICTOR

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

RAIDER 1

“He’s totally out of it, ain’t he? Boss, it’s okay. Pull yourself together and zip up before the other boys get -”

[cut off as RAIDER 2 SCREAMS OUT - zombie Rictor jumps onto Raider 2, ripping into him]

RAIDER 1

[into radio]

“Oh no! No-no-no-no-no boss is a zombie. I repeat: Boss is an actual zombie! If you’ve got a piece, get over here and open fire! Open fire!!” 

[RAIDER 1 CRIES OUT as zombie Rictor jumps on top of him. RAIDER 1 opens fire with a pistol, heard over the radio before it cuts off.]

[LET THE SCENE BREATH IN THE AFTERMATH]

RICTOR

“Anyone got a cigarette? YEAH! Now we’re having some fun! Gotta admit that was… a hell of a thing to watch! I just pulled that little dipshit’s arm clean off his body! You know, I’m starting to think bein’ a zombie might not be half bad. Thinking just maybe it’s time we start a new gang. Or, my zombie-assed body does it for me. Just try and tell me that getting to watch this play out ain’t karma for some amount of good boy points I had left over! Let’s get this show on the road! You hear me!? Come on out, little piggies! Ain’t nowhere to hide. Come on out or I’ll blow your house down!”

[FADE OUT TO TUNER]

CALI

“Scouting Log 19/7/2182. Storms all but passed over now. Last night was… well it was a lot. I thought maybe I’d just delete the log but… There was some important stuff in there, right? I’m not even just talking about the Hannah thing, either. But for me. For Cali. 

[exhales a deep breath] Figuring yourself out and actually looking in the mirror is an absolute bitch. Seriously! I feel awkward and… exposed. And I know the lecture: these scout logs aren’t supposed to be ‘journals’ and that using them as such is strictly forbidden according to the all important Scoutmasters Roadbook. But, if you really wanna know what, potential Mr. All-Important-Serious-Rules-Guy listening to this? I used your stupid book for kindling a few days ago. Yeah, you heard me. In a world where keeping warm was a question between comics and the roadbook itself; that dusty old rag loses every goddamn time.

And I’m not sorry.

That’s right. I’m not. My give-a-fuck meter is in the negatives. An all time low, actually. You can go ahead and fine me for it or whatever you want to do because I’m done. Officially. After spending… Honestly, I don’t even know how much time wailing into an actual hurricane; some real tears in the rain shit - I’m done faking and pretending. I’m finished hiding that I cry a lot because there are a bunch of pricks back home in pullovers and turtlenecks that want to make fun of me because I care about things. And people. You sure got me there and yeah, you hurt me. A bunch. Which means you don’t get to judge me for this. I’m stronger now.

Wow. That felt… like REALLY good to say. Now seeing as my life is officially mine to steer, what’s next? 

To start, I load Hannah up and we get ourselves gone before Pete wakes up. Just like he asked. I don’t want to cause the old guy any trouble here. I kind of feel him, you know? Pete’s a good guy. 

Big picture in play, here. This is the last leg of our adventure. This impromptu road trip we’ve found ourselves on. I can feel ‘home’ getting closer as if it’s the one moving towards us. Creeping in and I don’t love that. I… really thought it through last night and [takes a deep breath] I’m going to convince them. That sounds stupid, I know, but I have to try. We can’t just take this zombie… lock it up and treat her like we always do with everything we don’t understand. Like she’s a monster or some… fucking enemy that needs to be analysed. Cut open over and over again on some slab… or whatever other horrible shit they’ll want to do in the name of ‘science’. We can do this a different way this time. We can observe her, like I have. Bridge the gap. Search for the human-ish quirks and behavior. Maybe even figure out what we missed when we came at the problem with guns and robots. Because if I found this zombie out there, who’s to say there isn’t another one? Who’s to say another apocalypse isn’t right around the corner? I’ve gathered enough intel to show that coexistence is possible, and I mean, the line is that ‘we’re better’ now, right? We learned something from killing the world. That Golden Gate is America’s big second chance. We need to start actually being that. Walking the walk. Our America needs to look less like baseball and chewing gum, and more like ‘we’ll take your tired, your poor, your huddled masses’ and if these zombies aren’t the wretched refuse of yesterday's teeming shore then I don’t know what the fuck is. Part of rebuilding is taking responsibility for your mistakes.

I guess that’s what I’ve found out here. That’s what I’m bringing home. Not just some zombie… but a chance to put our money where our collective mouth is. If we’re going to be better, we need to do better. 

If this goes bad then I guess they can just go fuck themselves. I’ll take Hannah and we’ll go somewhere else. Somewhere we belong. I heard Junktown, of all places, takes wanderers no questions asked. Even mutants. We could find a place there, you know? They at least have the empathy; just not the resources to actually do anything with an opportunity like this. 

Now, full transparency and all my cards on the table. I don’t have a ton of faith that Golden Gate’s going to do the right thing here. I’m not dumb. These are the people who tried to pound the really queer circle I am into a very square hole because their values demanded I make a bunch of ugly kids… so it’s not like we’re dealing with the most flexible or open-minded people here. So, I’ve got a plan. Or plans, plural. It’s all risky business and anything can go wrong… But, I have to try cause living in Junktown is a life. Might even turn out to be a good one. But it’s just surviving. 

The real options are at Golden Gate. We can do this humanely. ‘She’ deserves that much from us.”

[FADE OUT]