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Act 6: Haven’s End

  Act 6: Haven’s End

  Setting: Haven’s end

  Thursday, May 4th, 1995?

  (Alex, and John sit uncomfortably on a makeshift chair made out of random assortments of junk while Lily sits on an overturned crate. Kicking her legs back and forth as she hums softly to herself. Alex looks around, at the dozens of tattered tents lining the hallway around them.)

  Alex: Nice to see her happy for once but…

  (He leans in, whispering quietly to John.)

  Alex: This place... it looks like what you’d get if the Italian Mafia had a baby with a homeless encampment. Too many guns, and too little teeth.

  John: You’ll have to get over it for now. They have both food and information. So, unless you want to keep walking around hungry and blind I suggest you keep smiling.

  ???: Ahem…

  (A deep voice rasps behind them. Turning back, they see the old man from before looking at them with a serious expression.)

  Old Man: You girls can go back to gossiping later. First, I’d like to hear why you three showed up on our doorstep.

  John: Honestly, it wasn’t fully on purpose. We fell down here not too long ago, and we’ve run into some things that just… don’t make sense to us. The only thing we want to know is what’s happening, and how do we get out of here?

  Old Man: Get out of here? You boys really must be new to this place. As for what you’ve seen so far… I wish I could say that those days are behind you, but days like those are sadly the standard routine. You’ll just have to learn to live with them.

  (He pulls over a nearby chair. Sitting on it backwards to face the group.)

  Old Man: Name’s Grant, and this little camp is what I like to call Haven’s End. Because this is the last place you’ll find safety in before you run into the real dangerous stuff.

  Alex (sarcastic): I can’t imagine what’s considered dangerous down here, if the safe spots are full of monsters and cults.

  Grant: Just be happy that you made it at all. Down here, most don’t get that same luxury.

  John: There’s more dangerous places than here? Is there some sort of sign that we’ll see before we wander into them, or is that your way of scaring us into not leaving this place?

  Grant (shaking his head): No boy, I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to warn you. We call it the “Dark Zone”, and I’ll promise you don’t need any signs. You’ll know what I’m talking about when you see it.

  (Grant falls silent. His stern expression faltering for a few moments. Replaced by an almost vacant stare into the distance, as a long forgotten memory resurfaces. But he quickly snaps out of it, regaining his focus, as he returns back to the conversation like it never happened.)

  Grant: But you don’t need to worry about any of that now. Stick with us, and monsters become nothing more than annoying background noise.

  John: While we appreciate the offer, we can’t. We… I have things I need to get back home to. A wife who’s probably worried sick already, and a kid who’s due to be born soon. All we want is information, and some food before we head out towards the exit again.

  (Grant’s face softens at John’s words.)

  Grant: I understand your pain. There’s no weight heavier on a father than knowing he won’t be there to watch his child grow up.

  (Grant tosses an unmarked bottle of liquor towards John, which he catches with a surprised expression.)

  Grant: This is your new medicine. Drowning out those memories is the only way you’ll be able to survive now. I chased the same hope you’re looking towards, and it cost me everything… just learn from this old man’s mistakes. You may not find peace, but you’ll be alive.

  John: I won’t be able to find peace until I find out for myself if there’s truly no escape.

  Grant (eyes hardening again): Seems like you understand my words, but not the weight that they carry. Unless you think you’re somehow different. More capable than the combined efforts of me and all the ones I lost trying to escape this place. What do you think it is that sets you apart from us?

  John: Maybe I’m just chasing a pointless death. But I’d rather chase that hope than rot away in this camp like a coward.

  (Grant stands up furiously, before slamming his chair loudly onto the ground, causing the whispers in the camp to fall silent. Their eyes falling onto the show unfolding loudly in its center.)

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Grant (yelling): You think what I left behind didn’t matter? There’s But when I climbed to the top of it? It never reached high enough. All those people, all their lives. Wasted. I betrayed them all for the selfish hope of getting back to my wife, and kids… I’m done with that now.

  (Grant’s fists clench as his voice cracks slightly, frustration evident. The camp silent as the weight of his words hang over the camp.)

  Lily (quietly, eyes down): What fun things are there to do in this camp?… if we stay.

  (Grant’s expression softens again at her words.)

  Grant: Fun’s not a word I would use to describe this place. We got a few board games we’ve scrapped together, but they’re either missing a few pieces, or people willing to play them with you. But, If you all stay here I promise I’ll put something together for you.

  John (carefully): And if we choose to leave?

  Grant (calm, but firm): Then you’re free to go. You’re a guest, not a prisoner. But if you walk out of this camp, you don’t come back. Resources are tight, and we don’t waste them on those who don’t stick together.

  (Grant begins to walk back into the camp.)

  Grant (yelling over his shoulder): I’ll let you have your space to think it over between yourselves. You can let me know your decision whenever you want… make sure whatever it is you’re fighting to get back to is worth the lives of your two friends. Because the price of traveling down the path you’re choosing can only be paid in blood.

  (Grant doesn’t say another word. Disappearing behind a large tent. Leaving them with only silence, and a few lingering stares. The weight of Grant’s words leaves John unable to do more than stare at the back of Grant’s head with clenched fists.)

  Woman’s voice: You boys hungry?

  (A ladle appears in front of John, drawing his attention. At the other end of it, stands a woman carrying a large bowl of steaming soup in her other hand. A weary, but warm smile covers her face that quickly eases the tension in John’s shoulders.)

  Woman (sincerely, pouring a bowl of soup): Sorry about him… he means well, but he’s a bit rough around the edges.

  (She hands the first steaming bowl to Lily, who tears at it like a ravenous wolf.)

  Woman (soft, sincerely): I’m sorry if we didn’t come off welcoming. Down here you don’t have room to feel much besides fear. Their hearts only have a small corner left for kindness, and most don’t go around using it on strangers.

  (The woman runs a soft hand through Lily’s hair. A small glint of emotion in her eyes as she looks down at her.)

  Woman (affectionately, soft): My name is Rachel, what’s your name sweetheart?

  Lily (mouth still full): Lily…

  Woman: Well Lily... I’ve been holding onto this for a special girl just like you.

  (The woman pulls out an old, roughly stitched together doll from her pocket. Covered in patches of mismatching fabrics. A sign of its previous owner’s desperate attempts at keeping the memories it held inside.)

  Woman: I’ve had this thing for as long as I can remember now. I figured it might be safer in new hands. A scary place like this makes it hard to sleep sometimes, but this little guy right here knows just how to help you fall asleep. All you need to do is give him a hug.

  Lily (pouting): I’m too old for dolls

  John: Lily!… I’m so sorry Ma’am

  Woman: No, no… it’s my fault. As much as I love children, I’ve always been terrible with them. I should’ve realized a big girl like you was too old for stupid dolls huh?

  (Lily nods her head. Unaware of the pain behind Rachel’s words.)

  Woman (turning back to John): And please, don’t call me Ma’am. I may look old, but I like to think that I’m still in my miss phase.

  John: You’re right. I’m sorry Miss…

  Woman (warmly): Rachel.

  John: We appreciate the hospitality Rachel. I’d say it’s been a while since we’ve felt this safe, but I’m not even sure how long we’ve been down here for.

  Rachel (chuckling): Yeah, don’t bother keeping track of time. It’s more like background noise that you eventually learn to tune out.

  (She turns to Alex first, and then John. Pouring them both a warm bowl of soup. The liquid inside is murky brown, with a mixture of small vegetables and stringy meat floating at the top of it.)

  Rachel: It’s not much, but it’ll keep you going. We scavenge what we can. Mostly canned goods and anything that doesn’t rot too fast. Water’s a bit trickier, but we’ve managed so far.

  Alex (curious): And how do you manage it? Doesn’t seem like there’s a ton of grocery stores to shop from down here.

  Rachel: Supplies fall down here, just like people. Not so common to let us be comfortable, but enough that we never need to fear starving.

  (Alex nudges the meat in his soup. It flips over, revealing a soft patch of fur still attached.)

  Alex (uncomfortable): What kind of meat is this?

  Rachel: Whatever we got our hands on for the day. If you’re lucky, it’s bits of beef jerky. If you’re not…

  John (curious): Seems like resources might get a little tough to manage down here. Why’d you all willingly leave the door open for us to stay?

  Rachel: That’s how Grant runs this place. He wears a tough shell, but at the end of the day he’s just a softie. Never could bring himself to turn away a scared face.

  (Alex takes a careful sip of the soup. Rolling the taste of it around in his mouth.)

  Alex (murmuring): It’s… different.

  Rachel (chuckling): Like I said, we make do. Sometimes, we have to get creative.

  (John sets his untouched bowl down. Lily, however, continues to eat without hesitation.).

  Rachel (laughs): You should’ve tried the stuff I made a few weeks ago. One of our members, Travis called it floor stew. No one knew why, but the name seemed to stick with the rest of the camp.

  John: Do you mind if I pour my own bowl?

  Rachel (voice tight): Fine… I understand how hard it is to trust people down here.

  Alex (casually, changing the subject): How long have you been down here Rachel?

  Rachel: Long enough that I still remember what the outside world looked like, but sometimes forget what it felt like…

  John: And in all that time, you’ve never seen a way out?

  Rachel (softly): The only thing I’ve found is new reasons to smile. Some days they’re the only things that keep me going.

  (Just as John opened his mouth to speak again, the camp shifted. Voices dropped quietly, as a loud voice barked out orders. Followed by another voice, that yelled out a coded string of commands. The eyes that previously watched them, now downcast and as hushed whispers started amongst their groups.)

  Grant’s voice (shouting): Everyone, inside. Now.

  (Grant reemerges, his face covered in a heavy scowl. He glances over, causing the tense survivors to spring into action. Some grabbing loose supplies, while others disappear into the many makeshift tents. Alex, John, and Lily remain seated as Grant approaches.)

  Rachel (worried): Grant, what’s going on?

  Grant (gritting his teeth): We’ve got a problem. Someone’s been killed.

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