Zombie Hell 2

Scene 7. The hotel common room. A group of people are gathered near the television. Diane, an attractive woman in her mid 30s, holds her year-old child, Mark. Maria, dark haired in her lat 20s and dressed in a tight black clothes, stands near Ogden. Billy, early 20s and casually dressed, stands off by himself, following the conversation. Santos, early 30s dressed fashionably, stands near Diane, mouth grimly set. Peter, early middle age, large and chunky, looks like he wants to get in on the conversation. Connie, late 40s, tall, statuesque and moving toward zaftig, stands straight and with a thoughtful expression. Tino and his wife Nita, attractive and in their late 20s, lean against each other occasionally sharing glances.

Ogden: I’m leaving.

Maria: He’s right.

Peter: But…

Ogden: They aren’t telling us shit. Stay here? And do what? Wait for these looters.

Jean: Please, people. Let’s stay calm.

Ogden: Us stay calm. Look at the news reports.

Television; same newswoman, Diane Shirum.

Diane Shirum: Authorities are ordering citizens living within the zone 30 miles of XXX to remain in their homes until an orderly evacuation is organized.

Ogden: Now, we’re in a zone.

Billy, muttering: I don’t like when the news lady looks nervous.

Ogden: Nervous? She’s about to piss herself.

Jean: Mr. Miller, please. This situation is troubling enough. Let’s not get inflammatory.

Ogden turns on Jean: Inflammatory! What do you know about this? What are you not telling us?

Diane Shirum: …I repeat, there is not immediate chemical or environmental danger. The incidence of looting has become more severe…

Betty: Looting!?! Whose looting! Everyone around here knows each other. Whose going to loot and get away with it. What is there a biker rally that we don’t know about. A Bronx reunion.

Jean: Betty.

Betty: It’s no one from around here. The soldiers? Could that be? That doesn’t seem right.

Odgen advancing on Jean: What do you know your not telling us?

Jean: Nothing more than you know. I looked on line it’s all the same information.

Santos, in a deep, sharp voice: You let her alone.

Ogden, wheeling on Santos: What, you’re giving me orders!?!

Billy, hesitantly, but trying to express some force: Just leave her alone.

Ogden looks at Santos, then wheel’s on Billy and advances: And now you, you little punk.

Peter, finally: Hey! Hey! Hey! We gotta stay calm.

Ogden: Now you. I couldn’t give a shit about any one of you. I’m leaving.

Maria, calmer but determined: I’m leaving, too.

Jean: Now just wait. Just wait. If whatever is happening has to do with the base, our drive meets the main road not a half mile from the gates. It’s a bad idea, leaving. Let’s wait to see if we get a little more information. Mr. Mulligan and Mr. Tomicelli are taking a look around…

Ogden: Those assholes!

Santos: At least they’re out there, not yelling at women in here.

Ogden: You again!

Mark begins to cry.

Diane: That’s enough! That’s enough! You’ve got my son in an uproar. Lower your voices. More brains less mouth.

Connie: That’s right. Calm the fuck down.

The conversation halts.

Peter: Yes, please. Jean is right that fumbling around without any more information than we have now sounds a lot more dangerous, driving toward soldiers who may be out shooting looters.

Odgen: I haven’t heard any gunshots since last night.

Santos to Ogden: Maybe the soldiers are good at what they do. Tell you what. Why don’t you drive down to the crossroads and have a look around? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind doing that, taking a drive and letting us know if the coast is clear.

Ogden: You gonna come with me.

Santos: Alright.

The conversation pauses.

Peter: Ogden is right, though, when he says this isn’t exactly secure.

Betty: I’m trying Bobby again.

Betty retreats to make a call on her cell phone.

Peter: Jean, do we have…anything we could use to defend ourselves.

Jean: Defend ourselves?

Ogden: That makes sense. You’ve got hunting trophies in the little parlor.

Jean: That was my father’s parlor.

Ogden: I assume those deer didn’t commit suicide.

Jean: Mr. Miller…

Betty, returning: We’ve got three rifles and at least one pistol I know about.

Ogden: Where?

Jean: Betty!

Betty at first yelling, then imploring: I can’t raise Bobby! I can’t raise him on this shit phone and I can’t raise him on the radio. I don’t care about those soldiers. Bobby would get to me if he could. And if he couldn’t, then something is really wrong.

Ogden: We have to defend ourselves.

Peter: We may have to defend ourselves.

Jean: I’m not handing out guns.

Peter: I’m not suggesting that.

Ogden: I am.

Jean: I think we should wait until Mr. Mulligan and Mr. Tomicelli get back.

Odgen: Why, because they look like a couple of New York hoods?

Jean: Mr. Mulligan was in the service.

Ogden: What, peeling potatoes? That’s going to save us.

Jean: He was in the navy.

Ogden: Great, maybe he can sail us away.

Mark begins crying.

Diane: Enough!

Connie: Yes, enough!

Maria, to Ogden: I want to get out of here, too, but lets stop yelling. Nobody is going to stop us from leaving if we want to. I guarantee that. But let’s talk logically.

Ogden looks at her and the group: Okay, what’s logical.

Peter: Let’s give those guys a chance to look around. We’ve got a couple of hours until it gets dark. Maybe they’ll come back with a little more information.

Ogden: Probably gonna get back to New York.

Santos, gesturing toward the window: Their car’s still outside.

Peter: Jean, maybe you should just have the guns ready. You keep them safe. We can keep a watch on the road. It’s maybe a quarter mile from where it comes out of the woods. We have some time to figure out what to do.

Jean: If…if a threat emerges, we could go back to the cottage.

Ogden: Where is that?

Jean: The little road out of the parking lot, just behind the stand of trees. It’s small and only has two doors and a few window. If someone comes after us, we could just slip out there. Let them loot this place.

Peter: But you’ll bring the guns then, right?

Jean: The ammunition is 20 years old. I’m not sure it’s safe.

Peter: The sight of the guns might be a deterent.

Jean: Does anyone here know how to handle firearms?

Betty: You do.

Jean, annoyed: One.

Ogden: I was hunting since I was 9.

Peter: I haven’t fired a gun since the Boy Scouts…

Ogden: That’s reassuring.

Peter, with some confidence: Our instructors were weapons instructors with the Army and Marines. I can handle a rifle.

Santos: I’ve been hunting with my father and my uncles. They were police in Nicaragua. They showed me.

Odgen: Rough duty down there, I guess. I’m sold on him, anyway.

Santos gives him a measured look. Ogden shrugs with a smirk.

Billy: The star game on the Jersey shore. You know, it fired BBs and you tried to shoot out the star.

Ogden: You ever shoot out the star.

Santos: No one ever shoots out the star.

Ogden: I guess he’s out.

Connie: I’ll take the pistol. Girls’ night out at the shooting range. Every Wednesday. Until we got worried Carla was practicing to pop her husband.

Several of the people chuckle.

Ogden: I guess that’s better than shooting out stars.

The group looks to Tino and Nita.

Nita: We don’t like guns.

Tino: I shot my cousin’s guns a few times. A Baretta. A shotgun.

Odgen: I guess you’re the backup plan, then.

Diane Shirum: We have a bulletin…

Ogden, looking at the television: Oh, look at her. She has pissed herself.

Diane Shirum: I’m informed that we will be going off the air temporarily as the authorities deal with…a power disturbance.

The screen goes into an off-the-air pattern.

Ogden: Jesus shit!

Peter: While we have the chance, maybe we should take a look and make sure the road to the cottage is clear. Jean, Betty says you can handle a rifle. Maybe you should get one. Just one. And you handle it, and we take a look see.

Pause.

Jean: Alright. My cousin brought some fresh ammunition last year for the 30-06. Just to shoot some cans. I know there are a few rounds left. That’s the only ammunition I trust. I’ll get the gun and load it. We walk down to the cottage. Not all of us. Mr. Rivera. Mr. Dreher. Mr. Miller, I’m sure you will want to go.

Ogden: Damn right.

Jean: But this is my property. I will take the gun, and I will handle it, and I will handle any situation that occurs on my property. Is that understood?

Santos: Yes.

Peter: Alright.

Ogden: As long as we’re going to defend ourselves.

Jean: And we will.

Betty, sounding a bit guilty: She’s tougher than she looks.

Jean measures Betty: I need you in charge here. Try to raise someone. Not just Bobby. If we can get a little more information, some instructions…

Ogden: Especially how to get the hell out of here.

Jean: Then do it and keep things organized. Make sandwiches. We can eat them, we can take them. No food back at the cottage.

Nita: I’ll help.

Connie: Me, too.

Nita: Okay.

Jean: We should watch the road. My Shenli?

Tino: Where’s a good spot?

Jean: At the top of the third floor, a bedroom, right off the stairs, overlooking the road. It’s not occupied. It has a door leading to the exterior fire escape. You can crack the door and no one will see you if the lights are out. Betty, you can show him.

Betty: How do you know that?

Jean: I was a teenager in this house. I know a few tricks.

Scene 8

Tommy and Vinny proceed down a narrow road in the woods.

Vinny: Yeah, I like this. Fuckin’ vacation.

Tommy: Wasn’t my idea.

Vinny: I should kick Missy in the ass when we get back.

Tommy: Get your ass kicked by a woman.

Vinny: I’ll get out before she knows what hit her.

Tommy: Right, you’ll have one of her goddamn candles sticking out of the back of your skull.

Vinny: Place always smells like a funeral parlor.

Tommy: Neither here not there.

Vinny: Goddamn it, what are we doing out here anyway! Let’s get in the car and go the fuck home!

Tommy: Keep it down. Do you want everyone in the county to know where we are? You’ve got training. So, you wanna drive by maybe some trigger happy GIs?

Vinny: Then let’s get off this faccoccta road.

Tommy: You hear any gunshots recently?

Vinny: That’s the sound of an ambush, right before it happens.

Vinny sees a large branch along the side of the road. Picks it up and taps it on the ground: Nice and solid.

Tommy: And that’s gonna stop a bullet?

Vinny: You wanna let me feel better for two seconds?

They walk for a few moments, then pause at the edge of a lawn and prepared lake beach. Afternoon is giving way to twilight.

Vinny, looking over the beach, quietly: Very nice. I’m sure I would have enjoyed it.

Tommy: Well, you’re right now. We go round to the far side of the lake. Let’s stay inside the edge of the trees.

Vinny: Lets.

Tommy and Vinny skirt the lawn just inside the trees, moving toward the far side of the lake.

Tommy: And what’s on the other side.

Vinny: More woods. Maybe six hundred yards.

Tommy: You must have looked over the map in the big room good.

Vinny: Jean gave me the outline, but, yeah. I like maps. I’m not counting on your ass not to get me lost.

Tommy: What’s after then.

Vinny: The Little Bitter Swamp. Half a mile of it.

Tommy: After that?

Vinny: The edge of the army base. Over there, to the right?

Tommy: To the left?

Vinny: A lot more woods. That’s where the ordinance range used to be. Turning into woods again. Friggin’ big tangle.

Tommy: Is there a Big Bitter Swamp?

Vinny: That’s what they drained to expand the army base.

Tommy: So, what’s the easy path through.

Vinny: Isn’t one. You can get through, Jean said, maybe. They got kids getting lost back there all the time. You, know, looking for a little too much privacy. Bet the edge is all beer cans and old condoms. But there’s no real path through. You go left, you got overgrown. And, to the right, through the swamp, hunters cut some paths in for deer season in the fall, but Jean said only so deep. When the snowmelt comes, everything gets wiped out.

Tommy: Now, I’m glad you have the hots for old ladies.

Vinny: Oh, fuck you. Try to be polite around you, and you gotta say some wise ass thing.

Tommy: Feel better.

Vinny: Cursing you out. Always.

Scene 9

Jean, Ogen, Peter and Santo emerge from the hotel. Jean is carrying a rifle. They begin to cross the lawn heading towards behind.

Ogden: Would have liked to do this when the light was better.

Santos: You worried?

Ogden: Not seeing when God knows what is out there worries me.

Peter: Chances are nothing is out there. We’re taking a precaution.

Jean: I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been back and forth between the house and the cottage, and nothing has happened to me yet.

Ogden: That’s reassuring. How many times after the army base blew up?

The group proceeds into the woods. They proceed several yards.

Peter: Is this place on a sceptic tank?

Ogden: Something stinks.

He glances at Jean’s gun

Ogden: In more ways than one.

Santos: We should spread out.

Ogden: Yeah, so we can cover each other . Wait, right. We’re unarmed.

Santos: The light’s bad. I’ll take the right. Peter, you take the left.

Ogden: Yeah, what do I do.

Santos: Complain.

Santos picks up a fallen branch. Ogden nods at him.

Ogden: Yup. You got a hunk of tree. That’s better than a gun.

Peter moves to the left in increments. Santos moves up the left side up the road.

Peter: It’s getting worse.

Ogden: Not feeling well?

Peter: I’ve got a sour stomach.

Ogden: Puke in the woods. Don’t make this smell any worse.

Santos: What’s out there.

Jean: The cottage. Woods that go up the mountain. If you go down far enough, you strike the Appalacian Trail.

Santos: Does that pass the army base.

Jean: No. It comes in from the North around the mountain. You see that his rising there?

Santos: Yeah.

Jean: Get over that and skirt the swamp, and you’re at the rear fence of the base, but there’s not much out that way. But there are only rough trails. Hunters cut them in and out, but the rain and the snow keeps them from becoming permanent.

Peter: So, it’s just woods.

Jean: Some hunter’s blinds. Some kids out there some time. They use the blinds off season, making out and doing God knows what else these days.

Odgen: Smells like they had Woodstock out there and forgot to clean up.

Peter: Woodstock maybe wasn’t your cup of tea.

Ogden: I like music. I just don’t like what I’m smelling.

Peter: Me, either. Smells like dog sick.

Ogden: Doesn’t smell like that do me.

Santos: What does it smell like to you?

Ogden: Old blood.

The group slows. Looking at Ogden for a moment.

Santo: That’s your imagination.

Ogden: Told you I used to hunt.

Peter: Not any more?

Ogden: My wife’s kind of a hippie chick. Doesn’t even eat meat. So I’m kinda one to, in the house. Can’t even think about cooking bacon.

Santos: How did you two get together?

Ogden: Met her at a engineering seminar. I’m an engineer. She’s an environmental engineer. Combining modern convenience with the advantages of nature. She told me she could help me change my ways. Teach me how to be a natural man. Told me I could be converted to the ways of nature and love.

Peter: Really. What did you do?

Ogden: I let her. Long as we were home. They got bacon at the diner.

The woods give ay to a short lawn and a small building with a heavy door and wooden shutters closed over the windows.

Jean: That’s the cottage.

Peter: Big cottage.

Jean: It was kind of a hunting and fishing lodge. My mother didn’t like strangers tramping in and out, even is she knew them. My mom liked family and a few close friends. My father liked parties. Didn’t much care who paid for them. Which mean he did.

Ogden: You mother be happy with strangers tramping her house now?

Jean: Mr. Miller. You’re not a stranger. You’re a guest.

Santos: Look at this.

He directs attention to one of the shutters as they approach the cottage.

Peter: Looks like someone tried to get inside.

Jean, Santos, Ogden and Peter notice that the shutters are partially wedge up.

Santo: The door’s open.

Jean: What?

Santos, swings open the door: Oh. It’s worse in here. Oh! I stepping in something.

Peter: Wait. What?

Santos: I don’t’t like it.

Peter: Wait a second.

Peter produces a flashlight.

Peter: I thought we could use some light on the way back. But what are you standing in?

Ogden, coming up from behind: Blood. Congeeled blood.

Santos, stepsing back sharply: I just bought these shoes?

Ogden: More blood out here.

Ogden moves forward and examines the entrance way, produces a small flashlite: Guess I’m not completely useless. Doesn’t look like the door’s been forced, not like the shutter. Nobody forced that.

Jean: I want to go inside. Look around.

Peter: Is that a good idea?

Jean: My property. Better secure it.

Peter: I don’t thinking going inside is a good idea.

Ogden to Peter.: It was pretty much yours.

Jean: My house. My family’s.

Peter: Maybe we should go back.

Ogden: We came for some information. I guess that we should take a look around while we’re here.

Jean and Ogden proceed. Step past the blood stain. Santos and Peter follow. Ogden suddenly backs out and proceeds to the lawn.

Jean: Mr. Millier, we need to look at the second floor. Take inventory. See if anything is gone.

Ogden returns: That’s strange.

Jean: Can we look through the second floor?

Ogden: Three’s a lot of blood, but no blood trails and no entrails. Whatever this blood belonged to didn’t come here bleeding. Maybe someone slaughtered a deer out here. Maybe you have poachers around and they made your cottage their base of operations. But where are the guts?

Jean: They weren’t out here three nights ago. None of this disruption was. But it’s here now.

Santos: And are you forgetting about the show at the army base.

Ogden: No blood trails. And nothing could bleed that much and make it here. The two elements may be linked, but they may not be.

Peter: What if the stuff at the base scared poachers in this direction?

Santos: Look, we can come up with all the theories we want. But we don’t really know much.

Jean: Can we check out upstairs?

Ogden and Santos nod. Peter shrugs. They proceed inside. Almost immediately upon entrance, a doorway opens onto a large livingroom-dining room combination. Santos ducks in and comes back.

Santos: No one.

Jean: Let’s check back in the kitchen quick.

The group proceeds back past a staircase into the rear of the building through a swinging door. Inside is an industrial kitchen.

Peter: Wow. Some set up? Do you have guests here?

Jean: No, we use it for when we have events. I used to do catering, too, but not anymore. Running this place myself is too much work.

Peter: Everything looks like it’s in its place.

Ogden, indicating a door on the right: What’s back here?

Jean: Old servants quarters. We use it for storage.

Peter: The cottage had servants? Your family must have been rich.

Jean walks forward: The judge was rich. My grandfather. He made a lot of fortunate investments. My father said no one would whisper about where he got his money. And he never made much. But he managed to get hold of land, some of it valuable, some of it not. He and my uncles loved this place, shooting, fishing. But dad was the one had to keep it up. My uncle Danny got rich, but folks said he was a lot like the judge

Jean, lifts a padlock on a buckle: Nothing got in here.

Odgen: From outside?

Jean: Windows are boarded over. It’s sealed tight. Let’s try upstairs:

Jean leads group upstairs, Ogden following, Santos in the rear. A landing leads to five doors. The one in the center rear is open and reveals a large bathroom with a door in the left wall leading into the room beyond. Santos slips his head in and, emerging, shrugs.

Jean points to the door next to the bathroom door, stepping forward as she does so: Main bedroom.

Peter: How do we do this?

Santos: I’ll open the door. Mrs. McKay, would you stand behind me with the rifle.

Jean: Yes.

Santos positions himself at the back of the door and reaches for the handle. Jean stands in front. Peter stands behind. Ogden steps into the bathroom and returns with a plunger. The group looks that him. Odgen hold the plunger bell toward the door.

Ogden: Non-lethal force. Who wants one of these stuck in his face?

Peter shakes his head. Santos shrugs and nods. Jean smiles.

Jean: Not a bad idea, but don’t get in front of me.

Ogden: Wouldn’t dream of it.

Jean raises the barrel of the rifle to a 45 degree angle. Santos reaches and turns the door handle pushing the door back. The door opens to an airy room. Jean proceeds into the doorway and scans the room. Jean shakes her head.

Santos: Guess we go inside.

Santos nods at Odgen.

Santos: Don’t suppose there was a mop in there?

Ogden: If there was a mop, I would have left you the plunger.

Santos: I suppose so.

They proceed into the room. It is large and airy with a bed against the outer wall. The group looks around. The inner wall is a series of closets.

Odgen indicates the closets.

Ogden: Guess we should check those.

Santos reaches for the first of five doors, opens doors in sequence. They reveal clothing, domestics. He pulls the first door abruptly, the second with less tension, the third with less tension. He opens the fourth door and something crashes, a torso falls forward.

Peter: Shoot!

Jean raises the rifle and follows the object with the barrel of the gun. It hits the floor. It is a dressmaker’s form.

Peter, shaken: Jesus!

Jean, sighing: That was my grandmother’s.

Peter: So you knew it was in there?

Jean: Forgot.

Peter: Jes-us!

Santos: Let’s relax.

Jean: One more.

Santos takes a breath, slowly reaches for the final door handle. Pulls it sharply. Jean raises the gun slightly as he does so. Nothing but boxes and storage tubs.

Jean: Okay then, just four more rooms to go.

Everyone pauses and looks to each other. Peter gathers himself, a bit nervously.

Peter: Okay, I guess we keep going.

The group begins to exit the room.

Samtos, to Ogden: Guess you don’t mind her carrying the rifle now.

Odgen: Nope. I’d have shot.

They gather in the hallway. Santos opens the door to another room, they rush inside. Open and unopen boxes surround a bed. The closet doors are open with boxes in and spilling out.

Jean: We use this room for winter storage.

Peter: Looks like someone ransacked it.

Jean: Nope. That’s just Betty’s method of organization. I meant to have her straighten it out.

They depart room. Jean herself tries the handle to the fourth room.

Jean: Locked. Nobody’s been in here. The shutters are locked down too. Saw from outside.

Ogden: You sure.

Jean: Yep. This is my room. Has been since I was a little girl.

Peter: Why don’t you take the master bedroom?

Jean: With the porch and stairway to the backyard, I can get more money for it. And it was my parents’ room. My age, it still strikes me that I would be intruding.

Peter: But it doesn’t bother you to put strangers in there.

Jean: In my life, I got used to sharing with guests. But there still is a personal side of things with family and close friends. That’s life. Always more going on than seems to be.

Peter: I wanted my own house since I was a little boy, like I grew up in.

Jean: One more.

Ogden: Let’s just do this.

Santos takes the door knob and Jean takes position in front of the door. Santos sighs.

Santos: This weekend was supposed to help me relax.

Santos opens the door. The room is medium sized and dark.

Jean:, nodding at the right of the doorway: The light switch is there.

Ogden reaches in and turns on the light. The room has a bed a nightstand, a vanity and a chest of drawers. They proceed in.

Ogden: Good. Only door number one.

Santos reaches for the doorknob of the vanity: Sorry, Jean, but I’ll happy to get…

The door busts open and something scrambles out.

Peter: Jesus!

Ogden: Shit on toast!

The shape rushes across the room and smashes into the far wall, rebounds and pauses for a moment, before rushing forward, Peter tries to flee the room. Stumbles into Jean who is trying to bring the rifle to bare. Santos stops back. Ogden steps forward and pushes the figure back against the side wall. It spins back, paused, stunned for a moment. Jean raises the rifle barrel to let Peter escape. He keeps his eyes on the figure and runs into the wall next to the doorway. The figure rushes forward again. Jean brings the rifle to bare and fires. The figure crumbles. Silence.

Santos: My father had a heart condition. I guess I don’t have it.

Ogden: It’s a fuckin’ raccoon.

Jean: Yeah.

Ogden: Sorry.

Jean: Now it’s a dead fuckin’ raccoon.

Peter: I’m not good with pets.

Santos: Not a pet.

Jean: It must have been nesting in here.

Peter: Are there more of them?

Jean, looking around: I don’t see any pups. Maybe we just surprised it.

Ogden: It surprised the hell out of me.

Pause. The group draws closer to the animal.

Peter turns toward it.

Peter: It doesn’t look so good.

They look more closely at the animal. It’s fur is clumped and falling out.

Jean: Is everyone all right…

The animal leaps up and smashes against the wall a third time. It pauses. Stands at bay. Its mouth is foaming.

Ogden: Oh, shit.

Santos: Lets get…

Jean brings the rifle to bear. The animal springs at Peter, who jumps.

Peter: Shoot it

Jean: Get out of the way.

Ogden: Look out.

Ogden lunges at the animal with the plunger, striking it. It leaps across the room to the far walll. Ogden shoves it against the wall, pinning its hip. It struggles and begins to free itself. Jean steps in front of Peter, brings the rifle to bear and fires. Just at the point of freeing itself, the animal’s head explodes. The rest of the body collapses, twitching.

Ogden: Jeez-us.

Jean, to Peter: Are you alright?

Peter: I think.

Ogden: Didn’t wet yourself, did you?

Peter: No. I…

Jean: Did it bite you?

Peter: No. I…It tried to grab me.

Santos: You’re bleeding.

Peter: It didn’t bite me. I don’t think…

Jean: I don’t think it bit you, but you should go to the emergency room.

Peter: Do I have to get shots?

Jean: We have the body. They can test it.

Santos: You ought to play it safe.

Peter: You play it safe!

Ogden: That thing doesn’t look good.

Santos: It’s still twitching.

Ogden looks at Jean.

Jean: I’m not going to shoot it again. It doesn’t have a head.

Ogden: Well, at least that means it doesn’t have teeth.

Peter: Stop fooling around. I don’t like shots.

Jean: I don’t think it bit you, but we have to have it examined.

Ogden: You picking that up?

Pause, then Jean: We can leave it now. We’ll get gloves. Get it in the morning.

Ogden: Good luck with that.

Jean sighs: Betty can do it. She left this place a mess.

They exit the room, Santos and Ogden last.

Santos, quietly: Probably just a scratch. Do you think it bit him?

Ogden. quietly: How the fuck should I know?

Santos: But we…

Ogden: Tell him it’s a scratch until we get him to the hospital. Like I want to hear him whining…

Ogden holds up the plunger.

Santos: I’m going to get me one of those and carry it around like a plumber.


Scene 10

Tommy and Vinny proceed through the woods, following a rough path behind the last part of the beach, the continue on a few years from an overgrown border between the woods and water.

Vinny, quietly: Bet that’s good fishing.

Vinny: Naw, when I was a kid, my father used to take me to Lake Ronconcoma sometimes, then we’d go see my Uncle Patsy. He lived near there.

Tommy? You’re uncle didn’t come along.

Vinny: Naw. My father was even trying to keep away from him part of the time, so we did the fishing. My Uncle Patsy had a heavy hand with the Scotch bottle, and my mom wanted dad home at the end of the day. See Patsy got divorce from my Aunt Gina, and he always had these women floating around…

Tommy, first to himself then to Vinny: Why am I encouraging him? You’re really going to chatter away on patrol.

Vinny: I can see farther then my voice carries.

Tommy, Well, your voice may carry a little farther than you think given that it’s too damn quiet in here. Nothing scampering or chattering.

Vinny: I hear a bird.

Tommy: It’s back behind us. Now, keep it down, its turning thick in here.

The continue into brushier woods. The afternoon breeze begins to stir leaves, branches and stems.

Vinny, very quietly: I don’t like that smell.

Tommy, very quietly: Something’s dead in here.

Vinny, yelling: Holy Mother Fuck!

Tommy sidesteps, revealing Vinny in the shadow of a tree and shrub tangle. Vinny is stumbling backwards, kicking one leg violently but futiley, as if it is restrained. A dark, thick tubular form is connected. Tommy draws his knife and readies it.

Tommy: Snake.

Vinny: Not a fuckin’ snake.

Tommy, trying to take a position from which his cans slash the form: Stay still.

Vinny: It’s not a fuckin’ snake, look.

Vinny gathers himself and hauls backward, dragging something from the bushes. A black, bloated face, dripping goo and salivating turns toward Tommy and gapes silently.

Tommy, stepping back a moment: Jesus!

It is a human body in dank, tattered clothing, half emerged from the bushes.

Vinny: That ain’t all.

Vinny hauls hard again, hard enough to separate himself from what now is clearly a hand but yanking the torso forward too. At the waist is tattered flesh and the torn remains of a shirt and jacket stained black, and the resof of the body is missing,

Tommy: Holy Mother Fuck!

Vinny: Like I said.

The body before them turns its face from Tommy to Vinny to Tommy again. The face contorts with what out to have been a scream, but only silence emerges. The body throws its arms forward, grab earth and lunges at Tommy, muscular hands clad in rotting, broken skin grabbing at him. As Tommy retreats, the body contorts in irregular spastic fits that somehow propel it forward.

Vinny: Kill it.

Tommy: What if it’s…

Tommy’s back hits a wide tree and he’s halted. The body stops, arms thrust forward, maw opening and dripping saliva. It gathers for a final lunge that will certainly reach Tommy. It lunges but jerks to a stop. The shot widens to reveal Vinny’s foot on the cloth trailing the torso.

Vinny: Kill the fuckin’ thing.

Tommy slams his knife into the skull, which collapses easily to the eyes as the moth is compressed into a sick, almost satisfied smile until the face itself collapses on hard contact with the ground.

Tommy: What the fuck!?!

Vinny: You’re welcome.

Tommy: Yeah, thanks for pulling that thing outta the bushes so it could get a look at me.

Vinny: Hey, I’d throw myself on a grenade for you. Maybe. On a good day. But I ain’t throwing myself on that.

Tommy: Can’t blame you there. But…what the fuck?

Vinny: No way that thing could move like that. It shouldn’t be alive. Look at where you hit it. No blood. That thing was bled out. How was it moving?

Tommy: And was it hurt and just trying to get out help?

Vinny: Hey, that’s the kind of thinking that kept you going back to the ex. We were gonna work on that. That thing was trying to get a chunk out of us. Look at my boot.

Vinny pulls back has pant cuff to reveal what looks to be a bite mark on the top of his construction boot.

Tommy: Something was wrong with that thing, something beyond normal wrong. But I just slammed a knife through an injured man. People gonna believe I couldn’t have done something other than kill him? A jury gonna believe that?

Vinny: Jury hears about this think friggin’ flopping after us, it’s not going to convict anybody.

Tommy: Still…

Vinny: Still, nothing. Get your knife outta that thing and let’s get back to the house. Damn thing’s almost soup already. No forensics going to turn up what happened to it in the end. Let’s just get going and keep going back to New York. I seen enough to know something much worse than I can image is going on.

Tommy: Yeah, let’s go. Stay sharp.

Vinny: You, too.

Tommy, scanning the woods as they begin: I’m a goddamn laser.