Accomplice
[CLICK]
[FOOTSTEPS CRUNCHING ON GRAVEL, TO A BACKGROUND CHORUS OF INDUSTRIAL FURNACE NOISE]
[DEEP BREATH AS THE STATIC STARTS TO RISE]
ARCHIVIST
Right.
[MACHINERY NOISE, LIKE CONVEYORS AND SCOOPS, AND THE FIERY PROCESSING OF WASTE ACCOMPANIES THE STATEMENT]
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)
The heat of the furnace curls the hair on Derek’s arm. It burns in a way that is as familiar as it is stomach-churning, like the end of a cigarette, or the flush of a childhood face as it tries to block out the noises, the shame of being told to stop lying by the policeman who plays poker with his dad. He tried not to touch the metal parts of his small workspace, as it is hot enough to raise blisters. But everything is metal here. His spade is metal. His hammer is metal. The tracks are metal that lead the rusted metal carts towards his furnace.
This load is full of children’s toys. Not the sad and mouldy wooden ones he threw at his sister as a boy, but bright, colourful plastic that he recognises from his own daughter’s birthdays, Christmases… happier times. The sight fills him with dread. Where did they get these? What has happened to Tilly? He wants to run, disappear into the night calling her name, but he remembers what happened the last time he left his post, what the overseer took from him. His shovel digs into the pile of happy memories, and he tosses it into the flames, one gruelling motion after another. The burning plastic fumes hit him, and for a moment he staggers, reaching out a hand to steady himself. His palm sizzles as it comes to rest on the furnace, and he draws it back with a stifled yelp. He knows what happens in this place if you draw attention to yourself by screaming.
His shovel goes back into the pile, and meets an unexpected resistance. Something soft and almost spongy. He knows the texture well, and as he pulls the spade away, the bright blood on it confirms his fears. Another sharp sting of panic washes over him, electric pulses of fear causing his muscles to lock in place for a moment. Then he begins to load the furnace faster, frantically hurling away anything blocking the view of the body, desperately hoping to see –
It’s not her. It’s someone else. Derek doesn’t know the man who lies in the cart, lifeless eyes staring at him from a head split in two by a careless shovel-blow. He pauses for a moment, then goes to his task, hacking up the corpse, and loading it into the hungry flames. The smell hits him, sickening him as it always does, tinged with that cloying, greasy nostalgia.
‘I got you.’ That’s what Colin had always said to him when they were kids. And he had always meant it. When Derek needed somewhere to stay when his dad was on the warpath. ‘I got you.’ When Derek needed a little something to take the edge off. ‘I got you.’ When the lifeless body of Derek’s father lay at the bottom of the stairs, limbs folded around the cricket bat he had hit him with. ‘I got you.’
And Colin was right. He had.
Words can’t really express the gratitude Derek felt as the body disappeared into the furnace of the junkyard where his friend, Colin, worked. No, friend wasn’t a strong enough word. They were family in that moment. And they would always have each other’s backs. When the police came hassling them, he had Colin’s back. When some little dipshit didn’t show the proper respect, he had Colin’s back. When Colin needed someone by his side for a smash and grab, Derek had his back. And when one of them had to go down for three years… well, it seemed only fair.
The rumble of wheels on old metal rails brings Derek back to himself as he sees the now-empty, bloodstained cart rolling back and away from him. Disappearing into the field of red-hot glowing metal. Another one would be coming soon, rolling inevitably towards him. What part of his life would he have to burn then? What thing he loved would he have to hurl into the flames? The apprehension is as familiar to him as the scent of burning hair. He knows what it means to wait, and see what he has lost.
The first time he got out, he had lost his job and his home. The second time he got out, he had lost his daughter. The third time, he had lost the ability to walk the streets without being hounded by some bored cop, turning out his pockets, desperate for him to throw a punch. But it changed nothing. He always had Colin’s back.
Something is coming. Derek can feel it. It’s not the next cart, he knows that sound. It’s quicker, more vicious. Panting, snarling, bloody feet speeding quietly over through the heat of the yard. A hatred, a deep, self-righteous loathing charging before him.
[ANIMAL SNARLING, FOLLOWED BY RENDING VIOLENCE]
It is the sharp end of the violence that has wanted him all his life, and Derek has less than a second to recognise her face before she begins to tear him apart.
Another victim. Another hunt.
The pain and terror courses through him.
Derek is still aware as she toys with him, pulls bits from his torso, and chews them with a hundred sharpened teeth. He is aware – though not, perhaps, alive.
[STATIC RISES AND FADES]
[FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL]
BASIRA
She’s here, then?
ARCHIVIST
[Surprised] Basira? I… I-I didn’t hear you, uh…
BASIRA
No. I figured you wouldn’t when you were… busy.
ARCHIVIST
I thought you were keeping watch.
BASIRA
I was. Watched you sneak away.
ARCHIVIST
Sorry.
BASIRA
You apologise too much.
ARCHIVIST
[Chuckling] Martin says the same thing.
BASIRA
[Chuckling] Like he’s any better.
…
Why didn’t you want me to hear this one?
ARCHIVIST
What?
BASIRA
You weren’t this cagey about the other ones, meaning you wanted to keep this one secret.
ARCHIVIST
Uhh… Hm.
BASIRA
Because this one was Daisy’s victim?
ARCHIVIST
…
Yes.
BASIRA
…
Didn’t think you knew what the statement was going to be before it happened?
ARCHIVIST
I just had a sense of it.
BASIRA
So… what? You thought I’d hear he was a murderer, and I’d agree with her? Maybe I’d figure she was doing the apocalypse a favour by taking him out?
ARCHIVIST
I don’t know what I thought.
BASIRA
Sure.
ARCHIVIST
I don’t know, alright! I was… I was worried that if you listened, it might feel like an accusation. After everything we’ve already talked about, I-I mean… What good would it do for you to hear? What’s in this one that you don’t already know? “People have their reasons for doing wrong?” “The system hurts everyone?”
Just seemed kind of pointless.
BASIRA
Yeah. I guess.
ARCHIVIST
Honestly, I just wanted to avoid this conversation.
BASIRA
Should’ve been sneakier, then.
ARCHIVIST
Yeah.
…
Never been my strong suit, has it?
BASIRA
How many times have you been kidnapped at this point?
ARCHIVIST
That depends if you –
BASIRA
…
Say it.
ARCHIVIST
Depends if you count Daisy.
[TENSION & BREATHING]
So… You did hear it, then?
BASIRA
Yeah.
ARCHIVIST
What, uh… What did you think? Did it… help?
BASIRA
With what?
ARCHIVIST
I don’t know.
BASIRA
…
Me, neither.
[RUNNING FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL]
MARTIN
[Slightly breathless] Hey, she’s – she’s, she’s here!
BASIRA
What? Now?
MARTIN
Yeah, yeah, she… she just tore into a guy!
[Shaken] It was… He was, um…
ARCHIVIST
Yes, we understand, Martin.
BASIRA
You didn’t think this was worth mentioning!?
ARCHIVIST
I didn’t notice. I was talking to you!
BASIRA
Fine, whatever. Let’s go.
[SOUND OF FRUSTRATED MARTIN]
[CLICK]
[CLICK]
[FAINT ROAR OF FURNACE FLAMES; ANIMAL SOUNDS OF CHEWING & CRACKING BONE]
[TENSE MOMENTS AS BASIRA TAKES AIM]
ARCHIVIST
[Hushed] Is this a good enough angle? We can try and sneak round to the other side of the furnaces, but then the smoke wouldn’t cover us –
BASIRA
It’s fine. Shut up. I just need to focus.
ARCHIVIST
Alright.
[MEAT SOUNDS, AS DAISY REMOVES A LIMB; DISTRESSED MARTIN SOUND]
Take your time…
BASIRA
I will do as soon as you… Shut. Up.
[MORE AIMING. MARTIN GASPS, A WOODEN POLE FALLS OVER]
[DAISY PAUSES, SNIFFS THE AIR, THEN RESUMES CONSUMPTION]
[Hushed, angry] The hell was that!?
MARTIN
Sorry! Sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!
ARCHIVIST
What happened?
MARTIN
I-I thought you were about to fire.
BASIRA
So you gasped, just in case?
MARTIN
Look, it’s a tense situation, alright? I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m not a sniper –
BASIRA
Goddamnit.
ARCHIVIST
Basira, are you sure you’re up to this? It doesn’t need to be right now. W-We can always back off, regroup, wait for a better situation. One where she isn’t… elbow deep in some poor sod’s corpse.
BASIRA
Don’t do that.
ARCHIVIST
Sorry.
MARTIN
What am I missing here?
BASIRA
He knows as well as I do that the only reason we’re even able to get this close is because she’s busy with a kill. There isn’t going to be a better opportunity.
MARTIN
Now or never, then.
BASIRA
Yeah.
I made her a promise.
ARCHIVIST
You need to be certain.
BASIRA
I am.
[BASIRA TAKES AIM AGAIN, HESITATES AGAIN]
Would you stop staring at me like that?
ARCHIVIST
Like what?
BASIRA
Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see.
ARCHIVIST
If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that.
[FEASTING SOUNDS STOP]
BASIRA
Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy.
ARCHIVIST
Is that really so hard to believe?
MARTIN (BACKGROUND)
Uh…
BASIRA
Yeah, John. It is.
MARTIN (BACKGROUND)
Guys, guys…
BASIRA
If you have something you want to say, god-boy, just say it.
MARTIN (BACKGROUND)
Guys…
ARCHIVIST
Look. I know it’s hard and you have your reasons, but it is not my fault that you can’t bring yourself –
MARTIN
[Exasperated, hushed] Shut up! Both of you!
BASIRA
What?
MARTIN
She’s gone.
ARCHIVIST
Wait, what? Oh. Oh no.
BASIRA
Get down!
[DAISY LEAPS WITH A GROWL]
[PHYSICAL STRUGGLE ENSUES BETWEEN DAISY & THE ARCHIVIST, GROWLING THROUGHOUT]
ARCHIVIST
Daisy, no!
BASIRA
Out the way!
MARTIN
Let him go!
BASIRA
Get out the way!
ARCHIVIST
Take the shot!
MARTIN
No, you’ll hit John!
ARCHIVIST
Take the shot, Basira!
BASIRA
…
Uh…
ARCHIVIST
Basira! Do it!
MARTIN
Don’t!
BASIRA
I can’t…
[TEETH CONTACT FLESH, BONE CRUNCHES, THE ARCHIVIST IS IN PAIN]
Daisy! Stop! Please.
[THE ARCHIVIST WHIMPERS]
[DAISY’S SPEECH IS LOW AND GUTTURAL, EXPRESSED WITH DIFFICULTY THROUGH A JAW UNFAMILIAR TO HUMAN WORDS – SOME CONSONANTS ELONGATED, SOME VOWELS SLURRED]
DAISY
[Around a mouthful of Archivist] Basira?
BASIRA
Oh god. Daisy…
ARCHIVIST
Daisy. Please let me go.
[INCREASED GROWLING AND PAINED SOUNDS]
Ah… Or not. Or not.
MARTIN
Basira…
BASIRA
I know.
MARTIN
But John –
BASIRA
I know! Just give me a second…
DAISY
Basira.
BASIRA
She knows who I am! She recognises me!
MARTIN
B-Basira!
BASIRA
Daisy, come back to us. You can come back. Please.
DAISY
Basira… C-come. Come on…
BASIRA
What?
DAISY
Come. Got to get them.
BASIRA
I… Sure. Just… let him go.
[LOW SNARL FROM DAISY, THEN RELEASE. THE ARCHIVIST COLLAPSES WITH A GRUNT]
MARTIN
Oh John! Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. Okay, okay, okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.
[MARTIN BEGINS FIRST AID]
ARCHIVIST
Argh!
MARTIN
I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry! You j– You need to keep pressure on that leg while I-I sort this…
BASIRA
Daisy, please.
John, can you… Can you do anything?
DAISY
Basira…
ARCHIVIST
I’m sorry. I told you. She’s too… too deep. I can’t do anything, not without killing her.
BASIRA
[Pleadingly] Daisy. It’s me. Come on, please…
DAISY
Partner. C-Come.
BASIRA
…
[FAINT RISE OF STATIC]
Oh. I see.
MARTIN
What?
BASIRA
She… she wants me to join her. In the Hunt.
MARTIN
What? Could… Is that even possible?
BASIRA
Yes.
I can feel it. In the blood.
ARCHIVIST
[Weakly] Basira…
[FOOTSTEPS]
BASIRA
I can’t leave her like this. She’s always had my back. Always.
MARTIN
Basira don’t, please…
BASIRA
…
DAISY
Partner… Come…
[MORE FOOTSTEPS]
BASIRA
Not now. Not after everything.
DAISY
[Impatient] Basira! Now!
BASIRA
I… can’t.
DAISY
Basira!
[GUNSHOT]
[SNARLING]
[TWO MORE GUNSHOTS]
[DAISY COLLAPSES, DEAD]
[THE DISTANT RUMBLE OF MACHINERY CONTINUES]
[THERE IS NOTHING TO SAY FOR A WHILE]
MARTIN
Basira, I –
BASIRA
Shut up.
MARTIN
I’m sorry. I know –
BASIRA
[Dangerously] Shut. Up.
[FOOTSTEPS MOVING OFF]
MARTIN
No, Basira, wait! J-John’s leg… Basira!
ARCHIVIST
[Emphatically] Let her go.
MARTIN
…
ARCHIVIST
Is it… Is it awful that I wish she’d recognised me?
MARTIN
Daisy?
ARCHIVIST
Yeah. I mean, she was… We were friends there, sort of, near the end. We went through so much and it just… I wish I could have actually said goodbye.
MARTIN
Would it have made you feel any better about any of it?
ARCHIVIST
I don’t know. Maybe? It’s hard to know how I feel about anything these days.
MARTIN
…
We said our goodbyes to Daisy after the institute. This was just… This was just dealing with all the stuff she left behind.
ARCHIVIST
I suppose.
[A BAG IS UNZIPPED]
MARTIN
Come on, I need to patch that leg up properly. The last thing we need is a limp slowing us down.
[WINCING FROM THE ARCHIVIST]
Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something.
ARCHIVIST
[Distracted] Hmm? No. No, they’re fine.
MARTIN
I’d forgotten we had them, to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here. I was starting to think I’d never need them. I’m surprised she could hurt you at all.
ARCHIVIST
Yes, that came as a bit of a shock to me as well, actually.
MARTIN
You didn’t know?
ARCHIVIST
I didn’t think to check. Just, sort of, assumed it was safe.
MARTIN
That’s a pretty big assumption, John.
ARCHIVIST
Hmmm. Apparently. I mean, I know it sounds strange, but it… it felt right for Daisy to be able to hurt me.
MARTIN
Dream logic again?
ARCHIVIST
Mmm. The… resonances from our relationship before the change carried over and –
[PAINED SOUNDS]
MARTIN
Hold still.
[RETURNING FOOTSTEPS]
MARTIN
How’re you doing?
BASIRA
[Weary] How do you think?
MARTIN
Sure.
BASIRA
I’m going to stay here. Burn the body.
ARCHIVIST
Of course. We can wait. I still need to, uh…
BASIRA
No. You go on. I’ll make my own way to London.
MARTIN
What? No, don’t be daft, it’s not a problem for us to wait while you deal with this.
BASIRA
Please. Just go.
…
MARTIN
Wait, seriously?
ARCHIVIST
Basira, if you travel on your own, if you’re not with us… I can’t guarantee your safety.
BASIRA
Good.
MARTIN
Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone.
BASIRA
It’s just… something I have to do.
You said follow the tower, right?
ARCHIVIST
Right.
MARTIN
No, no, this is ridiculous. You could die.
BASIRA
I’ll do my best not to.
MARTIN
This isn’t a joke, Basira!
ARCHIVIST
Martin, this is what she needs.
MARTIN
No, no! It’s… it’s completely –
BASIRA
It’ll… It’ll help me. All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me.
ARCHIVIST
So you won’t mind if I check up on you sometimes?
BASIRA
If you must. But don’t overdo it. I don’t like being watched.
ARCHIVIST
Understood.
Come on then, Martin.
MARTIN
What? So that’s it? We just head off, and hope you make it?
BASIRA
Yeah.
MARTIN
Why don’t we rest on it? Hmm? I know we all need a moment, and John can barely stand –
ARCHIVIST
Honestly, I’m starting to feel better already.
[THE ARCHIVIST STANDS]
I just need to stretch it out a bit.
[THE ARCHIVIST STRETCHES]
MARTIN
We’re not doing this.
BASIRA
[softly] Martin. Please.
MARTIN
…
You’d better look after yourself.
BASIRA
I will.
ARCHIVIST
[Gently] Come on.
[FOOTSTEPS AS THEY MOVE OFF]
For what it’s worth… I’m sorry it had to work out like this.
BASIRA
I’m not.