Act 9: The Price of Peace

  Setting: Haven’s end Base camp

  Date: Sometime in May, 1995

  (CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.)

  (The sharp sound of metal banging on metal jolts Alex awake. His heart races, as he struggles to shake off the fog from a poor night’s sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he sees Grant’s silhouette looming in the dim firelight. Wandering through the camp, banging a rusty wrench against a battered pan, in an ear-grating wake up call. Next to him, John slowly wakes up. Sitting up with a heavy scowl on his face.)

  Grant: Everyone up!

  (Grant bangs the wrench again.)

  Grant: Five more minutes before Crisis briefing starts. Miss it, and I’ll personally send you to the same place that bastard’s going.

  (John and Alex stand slowly to their feet. Their movements sluggish from exhaustion. Beneath them, Lily remains asleep. Curled into a tight ball, one arm clutching her sleeve, like a child gripping a security blanket. Not even the harsh clang of metal waking her up from her deep slumber.)

  Alex: Are we really leaving her behind with these people?

  (John’s face hardens as he looks down at her.)

  John: Give me a few minutes, Alex. I need to talk with her before we leave.

  Alex: Do we really need to wake her up right now?

  John: I’m not talking about Lily…

  (Alex watches in confusion, as John approaches Rachel, who sits isolated by the campfire, still stirring the same bowl of soup from the previous night. John taps her gently on the shoulder, causing her to look up at him, startled as he leans down to whisper cautiously in her ear. Unable to hear their discussion, Alex’s attention shifts back to Lily. His eyes drawn to her vulnerable form curled at his feet. The thought of leaving her without a goodbye eats away at him, but he decides against waking her. After all she’d been through, she deserved a peaceful sleep for once.)

  John (returning, quietly resolute): This is the cost of our cooperation.

  (Alex frowns, uncertain.)

  Alex: What were you two talking about?

  John: Same thing we just discussed. I reminded her what was at stake.

  Alex: Threatening the woman that saved us from starving last night seems harsh, even for you.

  John: I didn’t threaten the woman who saved us yesterday. I threatened whoever she might be tomorrow. Now come on, Grant’s waiting. It’s time for us to see if we’re pawns in this plan of theirs.

  (The two join the wary group gathered around Grant. A few cast suspicious glances towards their approach, fingers tightening around their weapons. At the center, Grant stands behind a makeshift table. A nervous, wiry man stands next to him. Whispering urgently to him, as his eyes dart nervously around the group. After a tense moment, Grant nods and turns to address the group.)

  Grant: Many of you worry about us rushing blindly to our deaths, but I want to reassure you all. We may be running towards our death, but we’re not doing it blind.

  (Grant slams a pile of documents onto the table.)

  Grant: All their patrols, all their expedition routes, all logged on these papers here. Most of it has been coded by the higher ups, but with the help of Jacob, we were able to find all the loose threads. And they all pointed towards one man.

  (Grant pauses. Like a conductor letting the silence sit for dramatic effect.)

  Grant: His name is Travis Boone. A convict, who rose quickly from an expendable tagger, to a strider. Whatever he did in that short time, it impressed them enough to put a weapon in his hand. He’s traveled all the routes. His patrols never taking more than their allotted time. Never enough time to deviate from the path. Every route, meticulously followed to a tee… all of them, but one.

  (He jabs a finger towards the crudely drawn map. It’s covered in crooked lines, and detailed notes under each one. The top right of the page is labeled Sector A PR-A5. Below it sits a list of recent threats sighted along the path.)

  John (calm, firm): There’s nothing official looking about this at all. A child could’ve drawn this, and yet we’re using this as evidence? Are you really willing to sign a man’s death warrant with proof this flimsy?

  (Angry murmuring picks up from the crowd as the newcomer questions their leader. But Grant puts up a hand. Quickly silencing them.)

  Grant: I promised my people that I’d be a leader who provided them safety in this hell, but all I’ve given them so far is empty promises. I won’t sit around, waiting for the next body to drop any longer.

  John: And what if the killings continue, and we’ve killed an innocent man?

  Grant (determined): Then his blood stains my hands. I’ve already created a mountain out of all the mistakes I’ve made down here. What’s one more to add to the pile?

  (The words Grant spoke were heavy, but only Alex and John seem to feel their weight. The rest of the group either nodding in solemn agreement, or gripping their weapons even tighter, with determined expressions. The question was no longer if they were getting revenge, but when.)

  Grant: Base squad, to your post. The rest of you, with me. It’s time we introduce ourselves properly.

  (Grant walks away, map in hand as he’s trailed by a small group. Alex runs a hand through his hair, glancing one last time at Lily before making his way over to them. They stand there, at the edge of the camp, waiting for them. At the front of the group, stands Grant. His arms crossed in front of him as he watches their approach.)

  Grant: Before today, you wandered these halls without direction. But from this point forward you join our ranks. And march as soldiers of The Endwatch.