._ , , . *|, * _ _ -+--+- _. _|* _ || | (_](_) | | (_] (_]|(/, * ._| , , ._ . . . . . _ . . _ _ -+--+- _. |,. . _.;_/*._ _ |*. , _ _| _ _ _| \_|(_)(_| (_](_) | | (_] | (_|(_.| \|[ )(_] || \/ (/, (_](_)(_)(_] ._| ._| ._| A N O V E L B Y M A R T I E " M U R D S " M O O D ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Chapter 2 Hearts ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: (4/27/25 6:31 p.m.) "I'm tending to think zombies are the perfect metaphor for culture itself. That it is dead, still shambling around looking for brains, and endlessly repeating the things it did in life." -Alan Moore, from an interview with Salon (2013) FADE IN: (10/24/22 6:16 a.m.) =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- INT. BURNT CHAPEL -- DAY -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The next morning, Alice, wearing her full headgear, arrives back at the tower to find an extinguished flame and note underneath the box of candles. She bends down and grabs it. ON THE NOTE Find Lee Chivington ON ALICE She peers across town trying to spot if anyone out on their morning errands is paying her much attention. Not a soul. ALICE (mimicking the Abbot): "Why would I know about this business, I suggest you go" -- sorry old pervert. Her eye does catch one thing, though: a bloody crack in the wall. She inspects her knuckles, freshly bruised and cut. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- EXT. ST. ANTHONY CEMETERY -- DAY -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Alice heads into the cemetery, taking sips from her flask. It's overcrowded with jagged headstones, cheap wood graves, and a few small mausoleums. One mausoleum stands out. ON GRAVE Lee Chivington, 1879 - 1937, Son, Father, Honorable Nimrod ON ALICE She takes the piece of paper out just to double-check. After confirming the name, Alice prepares herself to enter. Her mouth moves as she brainstorms different introductions. Some good, some bad. She decides, draws her revolver, and opens. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- INT. MAUSOLEUM -- DAY -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Inside the sepulcher, Alice finds Manco. The older woman smiles, about to head into her practiced routine, but Manco grins as well. ALICE: Well now, you don't look like Lee Chivington, the honorable Nimrod. MANCO: Never heard of such a thing. Unthinking sheep as I sees it. ALICE: Come now. Simple enough rules to follow. Suppose you're not one to oblige, seeing as you're transporting folks in and out of the settlement. MANCO: Mm, look at all that law busting out. ALICE: When I start off to find somebody, I find them. That's why they pay me. Devising a precious little scavenger hunt doesn't make you a mastermind. MANCO: Tsk, tsk, it's awful rude to gossip. ALICE: Darling, you're young, you haven't killed anyone, this doesn't need to end with you eaten alive. Just tell me how you're moving people out. MANCO: Is that what you told Ms. Charles? Admit to everything and St. Anthony's dear populace will treat you fairly? You ain't got shit on me. Nothing. ALICE: The things you'll say when you haven't a gun. Alice pushes Manco into the wall and strikes her in the stomach. The little lady falls to her knees. MANCO: This already? Alice, I-- ALICE: Shut up. I remember you. At Amos'. MANCO: Yeah, no shit, Alway! Catch up. ALICE: First, you tell me how you know my name. Then, you tell me how you're moving people. A tunnel? A ladder? MANCO (laughing): A ladder! Yes, let me just pull out my ladder, we'll have a gay time jumping over the border wall! Alice throws her leg into Manco's ribs. The laughing stops. ALICE: There's no way out of this for you. MANCO: I've got plenty of ways, Alice Alway. Looking down on Manco, Alice notices an outline in the floor below. She rolls Manco aside and digs her fingers between the gaps in stone. She lifts to find an underground tunnel. Alice pulls down her bandana and goggles before grabbing Manco by the scruff of her neck. ALICE: Doesn't matter, I'm arresting you. MANCO: It certainly matters if you want to find Gwen Griffith. You remember her? Gwen Griffith. The name sends Alice into a rage. She drops on top of Manco and seizes her neck between her fingers. ALICE: Tell me what you know. Now. Now! Alice is strangling Manco so tightly, the girl can't answer. ALICE (cont'd): Or I take you in and I make you talk. She lessens her grip. Manco gasps for air but then chuckles. MANCO: Always with the tough guy act. As if your Commodore would wait for your permission to string up a redskin. Overcome with anger, Alice lets go of Manco and sits back. MANCO (cont'd): What do you think I do, Alice? I transport people in and out of settlements across Colorado. Rather excellently, I might add. I'm privy to all the town charters. And I know you write letter upon letter to Gwen Griffith with no place to send them. ALICE: What makes you think I don't know where to find her? MANCO: You should be more careful with what you write down. Thought she was in Denver, right? But Denver burnt to the ground years ago. So, maybe she went to California. Or up to Canada. Or, maybe, she's here in Colorado. ALICE: And surely you want something. MANCO: I hold up my part of the bargain, you let me go, scot-free. I have such a bright future ahead of me, after all. Alice looks cold-cocked with her glazed eyes and drooping jaw. Manco has her. Without receiving an affirmation, Manco slips below Alice and down into the thin, cavernous tunnel. MANCO: Get a move on then. Alice hesitates for a moment before following suit. ************************************ **UNDERGROUND TUNNEL -- CONTINUOUS** ************************************ Manco leads the way forward into the pitch dark. ALICE: Suppose you can tell I'm not so warm to this little arrangement of ours, so, if you mean to be funny, I'll-- MANCO: Save the threats, Alice. If they worked, we wouldn't even be here. A little smart-ass, but she's right. ALICE: Guess I should get your name. MANCO: Manco. Just Manco. ALICE: Right, Manco. So, what have you stumbled onto here? MANCO: Tunnel used during the Civil War. Union tucked their heads in here. Not the greatest craftsmen, mind you, but safer than marching out in the open. ALICE: Slow up, it's pitch black in here. MANCO: Surprised you bounty hunters never found it. Would figure St. Anthony's rats would have sniffed it out. ALICE: Shocker, a criminal that thinks they're noble. You're no Robin Hood, you're a leech. You hear that, Manco? Alice awaits a response but never receives one. She reaches out with her hand but can find nothing to touch. ALICE (cont'd): Manco? Manco!? Goddammit. Alice reaches into her pocket and pulls out her matchbook. She snaps one out and flicks it awake. Manco is nowhere to be found. What the dim glow of the match does reveal is a ROTTING UNDEAD standing beside Alice. She recoils and hedges forward. More undead are illuminated by the light, all hairless with flesh rotten to the white bone. Their spindly arms reach out for Alice as she passes. Ahead, she sees faint lights emanating from the side of the tunnel. Alice stumbles around the corner to find a staircase out of the cavern. She runs up and out into... =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- INT. ABANDONED PRAIRIE CHURCH -- CONTINUOUS -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= ...the church Alice found Sally. Suddenly, Manco rushes up and attacks with a slip joint knife, barely missing Alice's face. Alice falls backwards, nearly back down the stairs. Manco mounts on top of her and thrusts the blade down. Alice holds the weapon off. As the two press against one another, the undead come upon the entry. Alice notices. She allows the blade to swing by her head. Manco loses it. Hearing the knife fall below her, Alice reaches for her revolver. Manco sees and quickly reaches to hold her off. Alice bends backwards to spot the knife a few stairs below her. She also sees ever-encroaching undead. With a hand free, she stretches towards the creatures and grabs the knife. The bounty hunter swings the knife down, stabbing Manco through her right hand. The girl falls off Alice and cries out. Alice pulls herself up and out. She shuts the door. Alice gathers herself, draws her revolver, and points it at Manco. Her yelps have turned to adrenaline-addled laughter. MANCO: Can't blame a girl for trying. ALICE: Oh, I've a mind to. MANCO: Not my fault you panic. You keep quiet, they won't notice a thing. ALICE: Shut up! MANCO: Want to turn back? Alice hesitates knowing the answer. MANCO (cont'd): Shit. Your gut is bleeding. Alice looks down at her torso. Tragedy: the cap of her flask broke off and much of the wine inside has bled out onto her shirt. She could kill Manco. Instead, Alice pulls the bandana off her neck and walks over to the whimpering girl. ALICE: On your knees, hands behind your back. You pull something like that again, I take the arm next. Manco does what she's told. Alice holsters her gun and ties Manco's wrists together tightly with the bandana. ALICE (cont'd): That was no Union tunnel. MANCO: Catacombs. Was once boarded up. Guess in the early days, they feared the undead would spew forth from the church like it was the mouth of Hell. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- EXT. COLORADO PLAINS -- DAY -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The two exit the chapel and head west, following wood dust markers protruding out from the flat plains like splinters. They're not fazed by the few UNDEAD CREATURES that dot the surface. They're slow, and the two can see for miles. MANCO: Gonna be a three-day trip. First stop: the Rio Grande transit station. ALICE: Three-days to the West? Six days here and back? Christ, that's suspicious. MANCO: I don't see a horse around, do you? ALICE: Fine. But I've another place in mind. MANCO: Lead the way then. So, who's this Gwen Griffith? Old bounty that got away, eh? Say, why did you give up being human to devolve into a jackal, anyway. ALICE: Shut up and walk. MANCO: Really thought you were gonna end me. ALICE: You mistake me for the folk you move out of St. Anthony. I'm no murderer. MANCO: You sure as shit are. Like that man that opens the gate at the execution. Makes you a complicit son of a bitch. Manco runs a bit ahead, turns around and walks backwards -- giving her the opportunity to fiddle with the bandana knot. MANCO (cont'd): So, what do you plan on doing with this Gwen when you reunite with her, huh? Can't just be for a friendly conversation, share a mint julep. Alice isn't interested. MANCO (cont'd): Figure someone your age would've been forced to settle down by now, plop out a couple of kids. Do your part to repopulate our once great land. By the by, you know you smell like shit? Alice pulls out her revolver and cocks it. Manco freezes. The bounty hunter turns Manco around and tightens the knot. ALICE: How about we stop tugging at this. She grips Manco's neck and brings her in tight. ALICE (cont'd): And keep your wretched mouth shut. She pushes Manco forward and ushers her to keep walking. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- INT. DUGOUT -- NIGHT -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Manco and Alice enter a subterranean dugout just as the sun sets. Down the stairs: a modest kitchen with a rusted oven and a shelf of supplies in one room. The other: a bedroom with a desk. Alice inspects both rooms, finding not a soul. One supply that beckons Alice's attention: a solitary bottle of bourbon. She grabs it, then starts parsing through the rest of the dugout, finally finding a leather dog leash. MANCO: Didn't take you for a squatter. Alice ties Manco's wrists to the oven with the leash, then removes the bandana and wraps it around Manco's wounded right hand. She cringes as Alice pours on a bit of alcohol. Alice walks back to the shelf, grabs a jar of tumbleweed in brine, twists it open, and places it in front of Manco. MANCO (cont'd): Tumbleweed. You shouldn't have. Alice walks over to the bedroom, closes the door behind her. ******************** **BEDROOM -- NIGHT** ******************** Alice sits at the desk and stares at the bourbon. ******************* **DUGOUT -- NIGHT** ******************* Manco eyes something beneath the oven. She reaches under and pulls out a sleek black notebook marked up with messy black ink on pale lined paper. Manco flips to the middle of the book and quickly finds the final page with writing. (9/30/24 1:51 a.m.) 21ST CENTURY (DIGITAL GRRRL) by Martie "Murds" Mood [Prologue] So, he's probably fucking dead. Matt, this dipshit -- he stays up all night smoking weed, right? And then, whatever, he fucks off on the couch for a bit watching people play games. He likes games -- that's a whole other thing -- but dammit, if his dead grandma, dead grandpa, dead dog ain't looking down on him and wondering where the fucking sense is in his goddamned noggin. Sitting there, rocking back and forth like always, his skinny frame struggling under the weight of his pale, translucent skin and boxy-fucking head. They can't barely see past the mop of faded auburn hair -- son of a bitch looks like he's wearing a fucking bird box -- nah, whatchamacallit, bird house. Same thing. [Guitar Playing Graf Here] Anyway, I suppose he wanted to go for a walk. Oh, that's the kicker. It's four in the goddamn morning. I mean, the dive on the corner of his block is closed already. Better yet: it's wind chill of about zero out there. A dead-cold January morning in New Jersey. That'll rattle ya to your bones if you're not careful, tell you what. But more importantly, if someone were to step out at four in the morning into a freezer box, you might have a bit more sense than to blindly step out onto the stairs. Think about it. Soon as his little flat bottom -- that's the other thing! This boy is wearing flat bottoms in the winter. He ain't wearing good pants -- with the thick, heavy fabric. No. Not him. He's walking out there in skinny jeans. I said goddamn. Black skinny jeans. Ain't no sense in that kid. This is a man: a 34-year-old man, no kids, no wife, lives with a black cat -- of course, wow, so original, the unlucky cat. He went to college, he has a job, and he's out here self-medicating (that's what it's called, right?) on the weed and then slips and falls and dies. He went flying and smashes the back of his head on the pavement. Then his body tumbles down the stairs onto the sidewalk. And this is Jersey City, you know? Cruel people. Let this guy lay unconscious on the street to bleed. People too busy in their apartments high! Bunch of druggies. Anyway, get ready for school. Chapter 1 Emma rolled from out of her covers into the cold morning. She awoke to the sounds of drip coffee, and as she made her way through the hallway to the kitchen, the 15-year-old took in its earthy aroma. Dad stood pouring coffee into his cup by the sink. (10/24/22 6:16 a.m.) ******************** **BEDROOM -- NIGHT** ******************** Alice paces the room, still eyeing the bottle. The wind has picked up, scratching at the walls. ******************* **DUGOUT -- NIGHT** ******************* Manco shifts back to an earlier entry in the supposed journal of Martie "Murds" Mood. (2/28/23 12:15 a.m.) about fighting complacency to confront the world as it is...you know, through a ska band, though about an addict who happily struggles...then sad struggles 1. i can imagine a scene toward the end where emma commits to being a "normie" in a sense: getting fucked up at a bar, having some pendantic centrist way of viewing things, hanging out with people that previously abused her with insults and barbs, and she blacks out the bad times 2. emma talking to either a therapist or one of her old friends about how she thinks she hated herself as a kid 3. walking around town with "right where it belongs" and passing houses with decapitated people. i forget why decapitated people. i think just the utter violence and senselessness of everything. like people gotta die to live. 4. PESSIMISM: basically, EMMA feels better knowing the world doesn't matter, but she uses that as an excuse to say horrible things, to act flippant, to do whatever. ISAAC sees the world as meaningless and wants to feel life from that, strives for there to be purpose in nothingness. or flip it around? or, hm, that's wild. yeah, idk, they're two sides of the same coin. work on that, lol. 5. you basically have this already, but open with what makes the story unique: the actual experience of putting on these fucking shows. 6. i love the flatliners song under a dying sun. ESCAPING ESCAPISM. that's your theme. emma opening her eyes to what the past meant to her. 7. title: (i love 21st) ; The Meaningless Life of Emma Rodriguez ; nothing really matters ; A Life Devoid of Meaning (a love story about a ska band I DONT KNOW, FUCK THIS) 8. to meeeeee. MAMA JUST KILLED A MAN. okay. maybe a scene where emma and isaac come to some strange understanding -- talking past each other -- where emma is maybe misinterpreting isaac asking to jump off a cliff together or something 9. dad finding emma's apartment in shambles and helping her clean it up (or mom, either or, doesn't matter necessarily) 10. rock star waking up when she thinks of her future...except she's just a drunk in an apartment 11. older father talking about the "good old days," and emma being like, will never be that 12. kellen's kid is inspired to play guitar cause of emma (or just have that as, the bassist at the show saying her peace at the end) 13. OKAY OKAY OKAY they should struggle super hard with 6/8 (maybe in the opening show, they fuck up a 6/8 transition with the drums and horns and shit), and at the end, they have this fucking song with 6/8 and they're like, we suck at that. and then the final show, they do a 1-2-3-4-5-6 and it fucking rips (think under a dying sun by flatliners.) 14. BASICALLY about how we can create hope in the smallest, dorkiest places -- and during the darkest times 15. SOMEONE TELLING EMMA THAT IF SHE'S AN ADDICT THAN SHE HAS TO BE ADDICTED TO SOMETHING ELSE? IDK. LIKE, SHE NEEDS TO TALK ABOUT BEING AN ADDICT. OH YEAH, THE -- SHE DOES A TESTIMONIAL FOR THE UNION. YEAH. SHE GOES OUT WITH FRIENDS MAYBE, BUT SHE GETS CRAVING FOR BEER. 16. maybe it's like, existence creates ripples, most involuntary, some purposefully, and who knows if those ripples are a good thing or not. are those shocks a good thing? 'cause that shoots someone off like a tsunami into a fucking wall -- or a town -- but yeah, idk, like maybe have ocean imagery, jersey shore imagery -- oh, like her almost dying -- INCLUDE HER ALMOST DYING IN THE OCEAN 17. they're straight edge as fuck but halfway through isaac discovers weed, and it does and doesn't do what emma assumes, which is muddy up reality and makes you a bitch 18. maybe sees her reflection in a city of ice that melts away -- reference to you know nothing really matters, anyone can see, nothing really matters, nothing really matters to meeeeeeee "The Death of Emma Rodriguez" (Artemio Cruz) 21st Century (Digital Grrrl) (or: The Death of Emma Rodriguez) maybe include sibling that has a spiritual view of things -- the alchemist ANYWAY, MAGICAL REALISM BUB, THAT'S WHAT YOU NEED TO INCORPORATE AND IT'S POLITICAL, NOT JUST FUCKING FUN...BUT IT'S FUN, YOU KNOW? everything can be fatal to us even that which gives us life -death of artemio cruz ... Cold Opening: Emma tracks for anxiety during a medical screener, but the doctor chooses to ignore it. First Act: The Philly show opening for Bomb the Music Industry and the accidental firing of the drummer Second Act: Attempting -- and failing -- to move the band forward without a drummer while juggling responsibilities at school. She ignores a big assignment or extracurricular in order to write a song (maybe soccer?) Third Act: Performs the song in front of girlfriend, who is dismayed to find out it's about her. Emma lies to her parents about putting in the scholarship application. Tag: Maybe a flashforward of her dying or something? Or guidance counselor or alcoholic teacher ... A-Story: The band is about dead when the drummer is accidentally sacked, creating the possibility that Emma will have to live the rest of her school life without the band -- her identity. It's also a distraction from the fact that her future is coming up fast: some scholarship applications are due soon. She blows off the scholarship applications to write a song instead. The song revitalizes the band, but it comes at two costs: she betrayed her parents' trust and is also wedded to a guy that treats his girlfriend like shit. Or, there's a scene that shows the friendship between Emma and Isaac's girlfriend. Maybe -- OOOH, at the show! She is super supportive of Emma and gasses her up and shit. (Is it a person in another band???) B-Story: College applications maybe. I guess, that's it man. Like, the band is failing, and her parents are insisting she get her shit together for her future. Talk to guidance counselor, get a scholarship application in. She blows it off and maybe even lies to her parents about it. ... Scenes To Include: 1. The stakes of the real world: Parents tell her that college was never a possibility for them. Dad wasn't allowed to run track. Mom had to get her associate's while Emma played soccer. 2. Friendship with Isaac's girlfriend, who Emma helps to woo. 3. Guidance counselor scene and how the school views her: she's cool, but just 'cause of the band. That's it. 4. Include an alcoholic teacher that gasses Emma up and talks real shit about the real world? ... FLESH OUT THE ACTS: WHILE EATING BANANA BREAD AND APPRECIATING HOW FUCKING GOOD BEEZ IS TODAY: COLD OPENING: 1. Doctor appointment to show that Emma is certifiably a super anxious and depressed person A) But as we'll see in the next scene, it's (10/24/22 6:16 a.m.) ******************** **BEDROOM -- NIGHT** ******************** Sitting on the bed, Alice darts towards the desk and grabs the drink. She winds up to smash it. Suddenly, VOICES ring out. VOICE 1 (O.S.): What have you done? VOICE 2 (O.S.): Wish they took you instead. Her pupils zigzag, trying to find a source for the sounds. VOICE 3 (O.S.): A waste. VOICE 4 (O.S.): Never did anything right. Alice looks down at her hand. It carries a slight tremble. ALICE: I didn't do anything wrong. I-- VOICE 5 (O.S.): Everything's your fault. VOICE 6 (O.S.): Put a bullet in your head. She grabs her head. ALICE: Please, I didn't do anything-- VOICE 7 (O.S.): You are no one. Alice launches her fist repeatedly into the wall. Pound, pound, pound. Even after stopping, the sounds of knocking continue. Pound, pound, pound. Alice uncorks the drink, lets the smell of the liquor linger underneath her nose. Her lips reach out to meet the bottle but she pulls back and suddenly whips the glass at the wall. ******************* **DUGOUT -- NIGHT** ******************* Manco's ears barely perk up at the muffled banging noises coming from God knows where. She continues to skim through the pages, and consequently, notices fresher -- and upside down -- writing at the end of the notebook. (11/2/24 5:52 a.m.) The first day is the hardest; or so they say. Certainly the symptoms present themselves more readily. Irritability. That's the one that always emerges first. This gnawing feeling radiating throughout your body that the world is too inhospitable to survive without whatever it is you're quitting. Alcohol, weed, a job, a person. See, some people consider quitting a character deficiency. But they just haven't the constitution to excise a part of themselves. I was a drinker. The reasons I drink still exist, but I ain't a drinker anymore. I sold out to a job that should have killed me. I mean, literally, whether by accident or by my own volition, I'm sometimes surprised I'm still breathing. The closest I got to that feeling with weed was when I took too many edibles and started deconstructing reality in my brain. I specifically mean my brain since, at that point in the night, I had pretty much disconnected from my body and only thought of myself as some fucking grey matter. When I write it all out, it does sound harrowing. I'm telling myself to quit weed so I can pay for rent and buy groceries and keep the cat alive. Let's be clear: the plant fucking works. A few hits and the noise trails off and I can finally focus. I used to tell myself drinking did the same, except I always ended up more miserable than I began; and I usually woke up with bruises on my knuckles. That makes me sound like some bar-hopping badass that engaged in fisticuffs and fucked only the craziest sluts. Nah, I just used to punch my refrigerator. Why? I mean, because I'm a fucking idiot, obviously. But also to hurt myself, I suppose. I was never sure if that constituted self-harm. Drinking until my throat burned and my liver stung would likely constitute deliberate bodily destruction. I used to scoff at kids in school who would resort to cutting. Now I see I lacked conviction. More likely, I was ignorant to my own pain. What would you call it? My therapist says it's anxiety. When we first met, she wrote down "severe depression." As a kid, I would call it a cry for attention -- I was a bit of a prick, though, I kept it in check for the most part. I like that kid, but I like what he's become more. In fact, I think I'm pretty okay. If we're born into the world with a debt to one another, then I could be doing a lot worse. So, why do I want to die? 'Cause this place fucking sucks. That may be harsh, and I'm not some type of incel fuck that can't stand humanity -- I'm not misanthropic. People need people. Think about how vulnerable and stupid we are during childhood. Hell, I don't think I had a good grasp on shit until 31. How the hell is a dumb, naked ape supposed to survive without other, slightly less stupid apes. But there's that 1% of people that makes the rest of us complicit in a cavalcade of horror. That's the noise. That's what I want to escape. I don't -- shit, I can't -- stick my fingers in my ears and sing, la la la. But then, I guess that's my problem. I lack the conviction to ignore it. That's pretentious. I feel like I'm being pretentious. See, this is where weed comes in. Or a stupid corporate gig. I'm not sure where the band falls here. Distraction? Panacea? Heaven? Maybe just a sweet relationship that turned sour in your mouth. Maybe it meant nothing at all. ... I feel different. (10/24/22 6:16 a.m.) =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- EXT. DUGOUT -- DAY -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Alice and Manco emerge from the dugout the next morning, the young girl's wrists bound by the leash behind her back. As the two depart, Alice notices something near the dugout's entrance: a NEWLY UNDEAD MAN chewing into a DEAD HOUND. MANCO: Guess that explains the banging. Alice considers the man for a moment before hedging forward. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- EXT. COLORADO PLAINS -- CONTINUOUS -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Alice holds her revolver in hand as they walk. MANCO: You know, you can put the peacemaker away, right? Not like I can hide behind anything out here. Shit. Alice shows off, spins the weapon around her trigger finger. MANCO (cont'd): Your precious gun. How very American. ALICE: You're American too, darling. MANCO: I ain't, and neither are you. Quit propping up its rotten-dead corpse. ALICE: Alright, then what am I? Just then a DEAD CORPSE approaches Alice. She kicks it away. MANCO: ALICE (to Dead Corpse): Scumsucker from St. Anthony. No good son of a bitch. ALICE (cont'd): Granted I may not be as worldly as you, but I've heard enough rumors about other settlements to know St. Anthony is right more than it's wrong. No need for the anarchy of-- Manco casually moves out of the way of a LIMBLESS UNDEAD. MANCO: So, you admit you're wrong? ALICE: Nothing is perfect, kid, but that doesn't mean drastic action needs to be taken whenever you want for it. Alice pushes the Limbless Undead down and steps over it. MANCO: ALICE (to Limbless Undead): What an inspiration, St. Anthony Dirty bastard. is. ALICE (cont'd): And yet you live there, Manco. MANCO: Don't give me that shit. It's either live in the settlement or die out in the plains. Ain't much of a choice. ALICE: Alright, then follow the rules. The two walk across a baseball diamond carved into the dirt. MANCO: Well, when your laws only hurt folks who don't burn in the sun, they don't make sense to follow. They're a joke. Just bullshit spun by the preacher and the authorities to stay in power. Hiding behind this Revelations shit. Manco and Alice step around a dead body at third base. ALICE: Murder's not so nuanced to me, Manco. I figure if you buy into the game, you best not be pulling a card cheat. MANCO: Who's John Evans Hall named after? ALICE: Why do I care? MANCO: The guy's a mass-murdering governor. Awful white of him. But Americans named a college after him. That's the world we should save, huh? How about Mater? ALICE: Manco, I don't care. MANCO: You should! It was taken from the Pueblo by bastards who poisoned their food with rotten blood! On the level! ALICE: Oh, what a sordid tale you tell. MANCO: Keep sleepwalking. The people won't stand for your lies much longer. We will birth a movement and-- ALICE: What people? You live in a grave. Have you met anyone aside from me and the criminals you shuffle outta town? MANCO: Bunch of untrustworthy sheep, the-- ALICE: How would you know!? Honest to God, kid, you're a hermit! You act like you've got the world figured out and everyone magically agrees with you. The world doesn't know you exist! Manco doesn't have a quick retort. ALICE (cont'd): Good to know you sometimes shut up. MANCO: You and your kind don't even pretend to give a shit about people's lives. You never have, and you never will. A MOUTHLESS UNDEAD stands in Manco's path. She walks around. ALICE: The world would be chaos if we didn't care. There are dead people walking around, Manco. That's bad. Get it? Alice stabs the relatively harmless undead in the head. MANCO: ALICE (to Mouthless Undead): The world was still less than Come here, you scumsucker. shit before dead people started Heh. Scumsucker. walking around. MANCO (coont'd): And would you calm down, for shit's sake!? Just walk around them! You're always doing too much. Golly. Off in the distance, a twisted Joshua tree comes into view. UNDEAD BODIES hang by nooses and ceaselessly twitch. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- EXT. JOSHUA TREE -- CONTINUOUS -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As they draw closer, Alice focuses on one particular body: that of an UNDEAD CHILD. Her breathing grows heavy and fast. Alice has to stop. Her body convulses and she gags dry. MANCO: Goddamn, Alice. I thought you'd be used to dead bodies by now. Shit. ALICE: I ain't much of a murderer, am I? Manco looks up at the tree. She spots another body of note: an UNDEAD NATIVE AMERICAN with both its eyes gouged out. MANCO: Look at the savage up there. People do that thinking the dead'll forever wander blind as a spirit, never to enter the afterlife. Gotta really hate a bastard to do that. Think they deserved it? Like Ms. Charles, say? ALICE: What makes you think they didn't? MANCO: No one deserves that! Not even the undead you lot use for executions. What if they remember and still feel? ALICE: Christ, don't be stupid. They're brain dead. It's probably bliss. MANCO: How the hell is forgetting bliss? Alice moves on and Manco follows suit. Past the tree, the drift markers ahead split to the southwest and northwest. MANCO (cont'd): We'll go northwest, hit a quiet transit station just as the day ends. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- EXT. COLORADO PLAINS -- LATER -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= In the afternoon light, the two enter a desiccated copse surrounding a barren lake. Bunches of dried branches and craggy tree trunks sit inside the crevice in the earth. Peering into the dead forest ahead, Alice shudders in horror, causing her to throw Manco into the hole. The teenager tumbles over herself downhill. Alice follows. MANCO: You dumb animal! Alice seizes Manco and pulls her behind the downed tree trunks, shushing the young girl as she clasps her mouth. Milton Freed saunters out flanked by two NIMRODS with gas masks. MILTON: I quite enjoy this place, boys. I stop to appreciate it every time I must depart Mater. Say, you fellows from around these parts by chance? NIMROD 2: Santa Fe. NIMROD 3: Kansas. MILTON: Mm, and what fine conversationalists they both produce. Unfortunate about their abilities in bounty hunting. NIMROD 2: We're trying, sir. MILTON: The good whites of Mater would be awful sour if Mr. Caldwell got away. The Nimrods begin surveying the area for signs of life, walking ever closer toward Alice and Manco from either side. The concern is visible across the faces of the hidden two. Alice carefully, quietly pulls her gun from its holster. MILTON (cont'd): Excuse me! Gentlemen! Just as the bounty hunters close in, their heads swivel toward Milton, who points out an UNDEAD MAN among the trees. MILTON (cont'd): Pray tell how you two plan to find a conscious, living man when you miss the Lazarus walking amongst us? The two stare at Milton; it's just an undead, after all. MILTON (cont'd): Take care of it, will you? I just purchased these clothings and intend not to sully them up doing your job. The Nimrods shake their heads and retreat back toward Milton. Alice peers over the log, catching one of the bounty hunters stabbing the undead in the skull with a sharp Bowie knife. NIMROD 2: Thought I heard the sky rumbling. MILTON: Lightning never strikes honorable men. Must be why you're so nervous. Milton laughs alone. They head out. Soon after, a car engine sputters awake and the humming of an automobile fades out. MANCO: Friends of yours? ALICE: That fella ordering them around is a Milton Freed. I saw him leaving the Commodore's before Sally's execution. Talks like he owns something. MANCO: Talks like he's got shit falling out his mouth. Amazing company you keep. ALICE: I haven't the faintest clue who he is. But he knows me, I suppose. MANCO: He seen your face? ALICE: No, but ain't too hard to pick out the one bounty hunter without bits hanging between their legs, now is it? MANCO: Is it the one with no fancy gas mask? (6/4/19 12:23 a.m.) The dust storms roll in, and Alice and Manco are being pelted with dirt as they approach a series of passenger train cars across a steel bridge. Alice pulls open the door for one of the cars and the two enter. Manco falls onto the floor and violently coughs. Alice, wearing her welder's goggles, unties the leash from around Manco's wrists and offers her some water from a flask. There's a faint banging off in another train car, and the two perk up and look toward the door to the vessel. Alice pulls out her revolver as footsteps approach. "Take off the eyewear, you look like a goddamn Nimrod," Manco breathlessly whispers. Alice obliges, whipping off the goggles and tossing them to the ground. Alice raises her gun as the train car slowly opens. A young woman stands between the door jambs, cowering at the sight of Alice's revolver. She raises her arms and Alice lowers hers. The woman introduces herself as Emma. Before Alice can speak a word, Manco pipes up to introduce herself and her older sister, Alice. Alice clenches her teeth but keeps her cool, suggesting the two parties take separate train cars. But Emma protests and describes her predicament. She was traveling with an acting troupe on its way to St. Anthony. But during the dust storm, she lost her way with them and currently lacks any sort of protection. Manco says of course they can all stay together to wait out the storm. The three hunker down as the hum of wind reverberates through the abandoned train; Alice and Manco on one side, Emma on the other. Manco eagerly asks Emma questions: where she's from, what she does in the troupe, the basics. Emma was apparently a renowned actress from Denver, though, only the undead live there now that it's burnt like Sodom. Manco blurts out that Alice is from there, too. Alice darts an eye toward Manco, who seems pleased with the tension she's creating. Alice simply says her mother took her to see shows in Denver. Emma keeps going on about her past as she reaches into her shirt pocket. Alice jumps up and puts a hand on her holster. Emma coolly pulls out a paper-wrapped square that reads Dubble Bubble. Manco is offered some, but Alice tells Emma to stay on her side. Manco, eyeing Alice's goggles on the ground, stands up, and grabs them and asks, "Oh big sister, what are these?" Alice glares at Manco who sports a shit-eating grin. Just then, the storm dies down just enough for both Manco and Alice to notice some banging in the train car behind them. Emma tries to convince them it's nothing, but Alice investigates, though not before threatening Emma if she moves. Off in the other train car, toward the far end, Alice finds the body of an older man, appearing to be recently killed. There are no bites or signs of turning, just a fatal head wound. Alice opens the door to the next train car, but it's pitch black inside. Alice returns and asks Emma why there's a dead body in the other train car. Emma pleads ignorance -- she only just arrived when Alice and Manco did. Something gives Alice pause, though. She sniffs, then grabs Manco's hair and smells it. She gets the sickly sweet scent of bubble gum before Manco pulls away. Alice walks towards Emma and demands to know what she told Manco. Manco barks back while Emma appears shell-shocked, barely looking into Alice's eyes. Alice turns to respond to Manco, but as she does, she sees a little undead boy emerge from the other train car. Barely able to stand on its stubby legs, the child tries to grab an unsuspecting Manco but falls over onto the ground. Manco darts up and backs away while Alice stalks over to grab and kill the zombie. But before she can, Emma screams for her not to shoot. "Don't, don't, it's my son, he's harmless!" Alice looks confused and appalled as she holds a gun to the child's head. "It's dead, it's gone." "It's just a bite, he's still my son!" "How do you know it isn't in pain right now, huh?! Why not put him out of any misery?" "Stop, please!" Alice turns back around to see the older man's body. "Was he going to kill it? So, you killed him instead?" "Don't kill my boy, I'll leave, I won't say a word." "A word about what?" Emma pauses. "I know what you are, I know where you're taking the red," Emma says pointing to Manco's arm, marked with a "V." Alice presses the child's face against the floor while staring at Emma. "What did you say to her?" Manco tells a lie that feels too innocent; Alice doesn't believe her. Alice presses her gun against the child. "Last chance." Emma bursts. "You're a murderer, I'll tell everyone. You think they'll care about protecting a whore like you? Their precious Nimrods are too important." Alice gave her a chance. She points her gun at Emma and tells Manco to open the train car door, lest Emma catch a bullet. Manco reluctantly follows the order. The wind is deadly outside and the sun is already gone. Alice and Emma silently stare at each other for a moment before Alice tosses the child out into the storm. Emma screams and attempts to run after but Alice cocks her gun and tells her to wait. Emma is breaking down while Alice watches as the child crawls away and disappears into the storm. Alice then lowers her gun, and Emma runs out of the car into the dust. Alice throws the door closed. Manco yells at Alice, "You're killing her!" Alice pulls out her leash and walks over to Manco. "What law prevents me from ridding this car of a Lazarus? Not my business if a murderer follows it out as well." Alice seizes Manco's arm and ties it to a railing along the side of the train car. "We go back to St. Anthony once the storm passes." Manco starts laughing and says she'd advise against heading back east; at this point, the sweep crews likely found what she left in Alice's home. Manco says she found her little letters; it made for some good reading. But she likes leaving presents at the homes of Nimrods. She can barely hold back her laughter as she says, "A rubber good for your gents. Too bad that's a big no-no round these parts." A furious, embarrassed Alice calls Manco a liar. Manco just smiles and leans back. "Want to find out? Or do you want to see Gwen?" While Alice walks off to the other end of the train car, a self-satisfied Manco pulls out Martie's notebook and attempts to relax. (10/30/24 12:34 a.m.) I guess most people think of the salt water first. The inside of your mouth feels numb from the salt. The way the wave rides up your neck and pecks deep inside the flesh of your lip. Burns. Everything kinda burns. Her face is sandy and parched, even with the waters reaching over her mouth at a decent pace now. Her ribs, they jut into the rubber of the boogie board. Those little stretches back and forth on the skin, it turns it rawhide. I don't wanna focus on what she said. Or how she felt. Like, it's a six-year-old kid pulled way too far out to sea -- like where the bottom half of your body freezes. Your tippy toes don't touch shit. You try to get on the board, but it's a flimsy piece of shit bought off the side of the street in the, what, '80s? I mean, bless ####### and #######, they tend to hang on to shit for way too long. (Can I not say that? Like, will they be embarrassed?) Whatever, I thought I was gonna die. After the fact, ### ### asked why I didn't just lay on the board. I figure ##### said the same thing. Like, "You got pulled in by the lifeguard? Why?" I overhead -- nah, she overhead, dude. Later at night, back at the trailer, ### ### was talking to ### on the porch while smoking a dart, no doubt. Marlboros? Camels? I don't even know what the fuck, I guess you could research if you give a shit. They were cigarettes. Smelled like it. Tasted like it. He eventually quit, but shit, knowing his life in West Philly, do what you want, man. Korea? He said the streets emptied out. The neighborhood, the gangs, they just vanished. And like, then you get talking about the coloreds, so I tend to steer it elsewhere. The conversation that is. That dude lived a life. What, the president of the gas company? He spoke at Congress or whatever? Grew up in West Philly. Grandparents raised him 'cause his father ducked out and started anew. Then he shot himself, apparently. Family from Ireland, I think the great grandfather was a bastard son with a helping hand. I don't know the correct term. It's 12:16 a.m. I'm trying my best. (This is fine, dude, keep going.) Whatever, he read a bunch of fucking books and sounded wise -- and for the most part, he was. No one that reaches that age is going to be perfect. He's 96 this year? It's a handful for my ###. My ###, too. He's like a son. His ### and ### moved from Puerto Rico. They were farmers. Not that I know much. I saw a picture of ###'s ######## on the island at #####'s funeral. Motherfucker had a machete out. I read Puerto Rican history. The flag bearers fuck up the Spanish, and then U.S. moves in thinking they're sneaky. Rebellions, massacres, it's the typical operation for D.C. The one hero, among many, but a prominent rebel...I don't got his name right now, but they fucking assassinated him in prison with radiation. Like they put toxic waste next to his cell and slowly killed him. They talked about the shit in Congress. I guess, you could get a transcript. Or you could just write...like this is it, man. I just wanted to talk about, like, I mean, I kind of don't even want to do it. Oh whatever. I was in kindergarten. I went too far out. I tried some common sense shit as the beach shrunk in the distance. This was Ocean City I think. ###'s ####### ended up getting a condo in North Wildwood. According to ### ###, back in the day, it's where the dirt from Philly went to dodge the cops. Fucking right. I stayed with friends toward the end of college. Or beginning? Middle? Whatever the case, we were in college, we could acquire alcohol, and we could convince our parents to let us spend our cash renting a tiny little beach house near 26th or 24th; the other side of the parking lot there near Gateway or whatever. It's over yonder. Whatever the fuck, it had a tiny yard, tiny everything, tiny television. Also, getting super severe sunburn day one and almost getting the rest of your friends killed by talking shit through the windows. Motherfuckers knocked on the door. Anyway, I looked around, figured I exhausted my options, and then said to myself, "Well Martie, you lived a good life." When I told that story to A.P. in high school, it destroyed him. ######## fucked with it, too. And then you kinda stopped talking about it. Or the one time you held your breath in your sleep before school. Like, I dreamt I was submerged in a pool, with an inch of water between my mouth and surface. And my dumbass just stopped breathing. I probably shoulda told someone that. Just like I probably shoulda told more people I collapsed in front of Wonder Bagel a year ago. Whatever. What a stupid exercise. (Nah, you love it, you nerd.) So, a lifeguard paddled up -- typical hottie with a body and nice blonde tips. He was a dude. This was 1996 or something. Stop being weird. I grabbed his red paddle jawn and just held on as he dragged me to shore. I'm sure ### didn't care. Or, like, of course he cared. But all I felt was shame and embarrassment. And it's so dumb. It's the ocean, dumbass. IT'S STRONGER THAN A SIX-YEAR-OLD. YOUR BRAIN WAS MUSH 'TIL 26 AND THEN YOU MASHED IT IN WITH ALCOHOL AND INSOMNIA. And now it's with weed, but eh, you use your methods, am I right? Should I say the end? Every fucking time, dude. I wanna be done. And then just reorg the shit whenever. I don't even care about hitting Election Day with an HTML website. You need to fucking sleep dude. And you gotta call it. It's gotta end at some point. No binge goes unfinished. (Is it a binge? Is it a cry for help? You decide next time on Dragon Ball Z.) stop killing babies. marvin gaye. save the babies. can't fuck with that ideology. don't even try, bitch. green day rules -martie "murds" mood, 12:34 a.m., Oct. 30, 2024 smell of smoke and brass coins. probably tin. did you say brass coins, you dumb fuck? go watch palm springs you wretched fuck. my god. shut up. you absolute stereotype. white dude that thinks all his stream of consciousness shit is worth -END WALKTHROUGH, what did you used to do? go find it. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- 12B. Version History -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= June 5th, 2011: Completed "The Naked City" as well as The Badge Pursuit Challenge DLC. Added a new section. (Version 1.0) May 26th, 2011: Main walkthrough is complete. Added The Badge Pursuit Challenge and went through the guide and did general proofreading. (0.95) May 25th, 2011: Finished the Vice Desk and wrapped up the Street Crimes and Golden Reels sections. Started and finished the Landmark Locations section. Added to the Newspaper Locations section. (Version 0.8) May 23rd, 2011: Looks like we weren't Rapturized so finished walkthrough up to the Vice Desk. Added to the Newspaper Locations, Gold Reels, and the Street Crimes sections. (Version 0.5) May 21st, 2011: Cleaned up the format a bit. Wrote up the Achievements section, added to the walkthrough up until "The Golden Butterfly." In turn, added to the Newspaper Locations section. Started The Streets of L.A. chapter as well as adding a bit of information to the Golden Films and Street Crimes section. Of course this is irrelevant seeing as, you know... Rapture. (Version. 0.3) May 20th, 2011: Initial version, completed guide up to "The Driver's Seat" and included "The Golden Butterfly." Completed the Sunset Blvd. section as well as The Standards. Started the Newspaper Locations section following the walkthrough. (Version 0.2) (10/24/22 6:16 a.m.) =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- INT. MRS. VIDAL'S HOME -- DAY -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mrs. Vidal sits at her cot smoking a cigarette. She intently watches her door, anticipating a Nimrod will crash through. When a knock comes, she can barely move, the cigarette stuck burning away between her lips. She pulls a knife from under her pillow. More knocks come as she stands and moves to the door. After a breath, she opens. MR. NISHIO (O.S.): Finally, did you not hear me? Mr. Nishio lets himself into the home. While still in a rough state, he moves and talks as if in no pain at all. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): When did you see Viho last? Annoyed, Mrs. Vidal simply scoffs at the intrusion. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): Mrs. Vidal, I am here for a reason. MRS. VIDAL: Outside the Commodore's with others. MR. NISHIO: Sons of whores. Confused, Mrs. Vidal shakes her head. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): He was taken then. No other answer. Trying to cut the head off the snake. Her bones rattle at the news. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): It has been you, right? You have been writing about the Nimrods, yes? Mrs. Vidal doesn't answer, still shaken by the news. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): This is hardly the time. I mean, why else would he take an interest in you. You were useful to him. MRS. VIDAL: Say what you mean, Nishio. MR. NISHIO: If you have access to their border records, we can find out where they took Viho. Nimrods left the night my son was taken by those bastards. Mrs. Vidal stands silently considering the request. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): I cannot fathom why he trusted you. Furious, he leaves. Mrs. Vidal stands lost in thought. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- EXT. COLORADO PLAINS -- DAY -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Alice and Manco stand at the foot of a wide chasm in the earth -- with no way across. The crack in the plains is too far to jump and just deep enough to cause a serious, possibly fatal injury. Naturally, the wood bridge across has been severed from the other side; the structure hangs along Alice and Manco's side of the cliff. Alice peers down: It looks like the only path up to the other side is covered with an UNDEAD HORDE. The dozens of deadly creatures seem as though they've been baked in the sun for years. ALICE: Manco? Yes, Alice?, the girl seems to say as she looks over playfully. ALICE (cont'd): Mind explaining this here crack? MANCO: That's a hell of a thing, huh? Like a bolt of lightning shattered the land in half. Damn shame about the bridge. Alice could hit her. MANCO (cont'd): You going to sulk or help me climb down? Nightfall ain't waiting for us. Alice turns Manco around, unties the leash, turns her back around, and restrains her at the front. Alice being playful. MANCO (cont'd): Come on, just take it off. ALICE: Good one. Alice and Manco climb down the severed bridge. They use the wood planks hanging down the cliff like rungs of a ladder. **************** **IN THE CHASM** **************** Once on the ground, Alice picks up a rock and throws it past the horde. A scant few hobble over to the sound produced. MANCO: What'd you expect to happen there? You never dealt with rotters before? ALICE: I guess my hands have been too full dealing with the likes of you, Manco. MANCO: Fair enough. How long has it been since the dead rose? You know bodies tend to rot after a while -- old timer. ALICE: Enlightening. MANCO: What I'm getting at is, they ain't got much of their senses left. You can't just yell and toss stones at them. Alice grabs her revolver and whips out the cylinder to check how many bullets she has loaded. Six. She snaps it back. MANCO (cont'd): It was like those undead in the catacombs. They were so gone that if you just stayed calm, nothing would have happened. But a Nimrod is as calm as a devil at mass, am I right? ALICE: So, they don't do much if you're standing still. Just staying calm. MANCO: Usually, sure. That many though, they're not to be trifled with. Alice points her gun straight in the air and fires. Bam! The dozens of undead snap to and shuffle toward them. Alice and Manco sidle up along opposite sides of the cliff, the rotten undead missing them by inches as they walk past. The gunshot clearly rattled Manco. This quite amuses Alice. The horde is nearly through, but Manco catches Alice and her crooked smile. The girl shines a fuck-you grin back and willfully falls into one of the last creatures' grasp. In a sudden panic, Alice rushes over to Manco and pulls the undead off the girl, smashing its brains in with her heel. MANCO: It's a good lesson, Alice! I'm more important to you than you are to me! ALICE: Oh, you keep thinking that, darling. Alice pulls Manco up to her feet and they head to the path. MANCO: Get rid of the long puss. It's ugly. *********************** **OTHER SIDE OF CHASM** *********************** The two successfully make it. ALICE: Stupidest way to go, getting bit out here. See them coming a mile away. The click of a gun being hammered back catches the eyes of both Alice and Manco and stops them in their tracks. An older priest: Father Gregory Caldwell. He points his pistol at them, seemingly unsure what to do next. His body shakes like a leaf, maybe from anxiety, maybe from starvation. GREGORY: Stop! Halt! Manco runs behind Alice. The bounty hunter raises her hands. ALICE: Alright. GREGORY: I heard the, the gunshot. ALICE: That you did, sir. Is your trigger finger as good as that ear of yours? GREGORY: I ain't want no trouble. ALICE: I'm not sure if you're aware, but you are the one holding a gun at us, sir. GREGORY: I need money or food or what you got. ALICE: I won't be forfeiting my money to you at this time. Sorry to tell you, sir. GREGORY: Quit with your bullshit, I mean it! ALICE: You've never done this before, have you? I mean no disrespect, but you don't look like you have much the stomach for killing your fellow man. He would never admit to such a thing. He's a man, dammit. ALICE (cont'd): What's your name? GREGORY: Gregory Caldwell. MANCO: Caldwell. Alice flashes a dirty look at Manco; she remembers, dammit. ALICE: I tell you what, Mr. Caldwell: you do the honorable thing and out duel me, you take whatever you want from my corpse. The Lord won't look down upon you defending yourself. You shoot me and my friend down in cold blood, on the other hand? Food will fill your stomach now, but is that worth the guilt of gunning down two unarmed women? Let alone the eternity spent in Beelzebub's Hell? Gregory considers the offer a moment, then lowers his gun. Alice gestures Manco away as Gregory holsters the weapon. Alice and Gregory stare each other down, inspecting one another's subtlest movements. Alice stands stone stiff, a little smirk across her face. The man quakes and shakes. In an instant, Alice draws her revolver with the flick of her wrist. Gregory falls to his knees and raises his arms. GREGORY: Wait! I'm sorry, God please! I don't want to do this! I can't kill. I'm a God-fearing man. I'll just be on my-- Like a strike of lightning, a bullet falls from the sky and whizzes through the top of Gregory's skull and out through his jaw, killing him in an instant. His body flops to the ground. The dead's gun and a flask tumble out of his coat. MANCO: What the, what the fuck? What-- The sudden death shocks Manco, but she wrests herself back from showing weakness to Alice, who simply stands confused. They peer up to the sky above. Only darkening clouds as the patterns of a storm make themselves known. Manco then looks down into the chasm. MANCO (cont'd): The bullet. Holy shit. The bullet! ALICE: Oh. MANCO: Oh? Oh!? You murdered him! ALICE: What?! MANCO: He was defenseless and you shot him! ALICE: Oh, shut up. MANCO: What!? What do you call it then? Huh? ALICE: It was an accident. A freak accident. MANCO: You shot a gun! In the air! Shit-head! ALICE: He was just threatening us, Manco. MANCO: He was starving! And apparently Mr. Southern Dandy back there has it out for him. Your bloodlust always come out when you sniff a bounty close by? ALICE: Give it a rest! It was an accident! Must have been guilty of something. MANCO: Jesus' shit, who isn't guilty to you? ALICE: He bought into the duel. I had every right to shoot him, which I didn't. She wants to loot the man of his flask and bullets, but she's starting to believe Manco isn't just putting on airs. MANCO: Beelzebub's Hell? Some tact, Alice. Forlorn, Alice stares at the flask. (1/15/24 8:51 a.m.) you're meant to grit your teeth and bare it. good. eat some fucking good food or something. and stop caring. (10/24/22 6:16 a.m.) Fed up, Alice heads up the ridge ahead. Manco soon follows. MANCO (cont'd): Wait, so why did he lower his weapon? ALICE: Well, simple-minded men tell these tall tales of cowboys in the wild west dueling each other out of some sort of honor. It's a nonsense myth. MANCO: He was dead to rights, wasn't he? ALICE: Sure enough. But, as I must keep reminding you, I'm not a killer. I wouldn't have shot him in the heart. One in the shoulder usually works. MANCO: Heart? You need to kill the brain, stupid. Everyone knows that. ALICE: It's a wonder you've survived this long. The duel, Manco. Listen. In a duel, you need to land the first shot, and the body is easier to hit than the head. Then, you kill the brain to stop reanimation. If you are shooting to kill, best hit the heart. Alice and Manco come to the top of the ridge. Below them, in the distance, stands a shanty town called Freeman's Pass in the shadow of a steep mountain. A few wood buildings sit at either side of a single muddy road. A barricade of sharpened razor wire surrounds the town, barring outside dangers. A valley nearby leads to a mineshaft carved in the mountains. WANDERING UNDEAD gather near the opening. MANCO: That mineshaft over yonder will lead us to our destination: Mater. But it seems a storm's a-coming. ALICE: You said we were headed for another transit station. Wait. Wait, Gwen's in Mater? MANCO: Ah, maybe that was in the other direction. No matter, we'll just spend the night in town. Freeman's Pass. Bit of a wild bunch down there. May not take too kindly to a Nimrod. Best to get rid of the spectacles around your neck and unbind me, see. ALICE: You must think you're pretty clever. MANCO: Alls I know is nightfall's a death sentence. Figured you'd know that, at least. ALICE: You try anything funny-- MANCO: Why would I do anything like that? We'll have a date night, you and I. Manco spits on Alice's boot, playing it off as an accident. MANCO (cont'd): Come. The good whites of Mater await. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- INT. JOHN EVANS HALL -- NIGHT -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mrs. Vidal lets herself in, giving a quick look around the hallway to ensure no one's burning the midnight oil. ********** **OFFICE** ********** Focused on the task, Mrs. Vidal shuffles through a filing cabinet. She pulls out a ledger and heads for a desk. She flips open the book, which lists names, dates of entry or exit, destination or origin, and reasons for travel. ON LEDGER T. Madison, S. Grant; May 2 (exit), May 4 (entry) ON MRS. VIDAL MRS. VIDAL: Two days, roundtrip, no reason for travel. No destination. Of course. Her finger runs down listings of destinations or origins. MRS. VIDAL (cont'd): Fort Uncompahgre, eight days. Narrow Gauge, four days. Creede, four days. Rio Grande -- where the hell's Mater? Not finding Mater, she walks back to the cabinet and grabs an older volume. She heads to the desk and opens the ledger. ON LEDGER Mater, February 3 (exit), February 9 (entry) Mater, January 27, (exit), January 29 (entry); note: horse ON MRS. VIDAL Mrs. Vidal leans away from the book and rubs her temples. MRS. VIDAL (cont'd): Two days by horse. Suddenly, she hears a door open. She drops under the desk. Harold and Kelly trip into the room kissing. Mrs. Vidal can smell the liquor as they make their way toward her. HAROLD: Mm, I love that perfume, honey. KELLY: I was banking on it, baby. Mrs. Vidal sits silently as Harold pushes Kelly onto the desk. They go at it, but something is bothering Kelly. KELLY (cont'd): Goodness, what is this? She grabs the ledger under her. Harold raises an eyebrow. HAROLD: Goddammit. Probably that Black broad not cleaning up after herself. KELLY: Gee, where'd she even come from? HAROLD: She was a secretary for a newspaper in Denver. That's about all I care to know about the skirt. Never smiles. Never laughs. And doesn't let me climb up them gams like you, sweetie. Mrs. Vidal takes the hits as the two continue kissing. HAROLD (cont'd): Turn around. KELLY: Harold, out here? What if-- HAROLD: Tsk, who's going to come in? KELLY: Can we please go to the closet? HAROLD: You gonna do everything I ask? KELLY: Mhm, baby. The two walk off to a backroom. Mrs. Vidal moves out. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- INT. MRS. VIDAL'S HOME -- NIGHT -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mrs. Vidal smokes a cigarette with Mr. Nishio. MR. NISHIO: You are sure they headed for Mater? She nods her head, taking slow drags. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): Viho keeps a horse outside the gates for his scouts. I can reach it. I am unfamiliar with Mater. But you-- Mrs. Vidal picks up his implication but remains silent. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): Please. We need not flail alone out in this darkness. I can protect you. Mrs. Vidal chuckles at the thought. MRS. VIDAL: I only spent a short time there. Besides, Mater is under new management: the folks I came out here with from Denver. You know how I mean? =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- EXT. COLORADO PLAINS -- NIGHT -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The sun has just about died as Alice and Manco draw closer to Freeman's Pass. The young girl has a lively pep to her step without the restraints. Alice falls behind a bit. MR. NISHIO (O.S.): Enlighten me. From her perspective, Alice passes by GHOSTLY CARNIVAL GOERS, who enjoy the smell of popcorn and the bright lights. MRS. VIDAL (O.S.): Ever go to a carnival in the city? To Alice's right, she sees MAFIOSO surveying the scene, cigars hanging from lips -- and guns hanging from hips. MRS. VIDAL (O.S.) (cont'd): Allegiances aren't hard to spot. And to her left, a phantom Ferris wheel packed with members of the KU KLUX KLAN. At its base, a POL stands at a sign. ON SIGN Meet Mayor Stapleton!! =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -=-=- INT. MRS. VIDAL'S HOME -- NIGHT -=-=- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= To Mr. Nishio, Mrs. Vidal appears lost in her past. MR. NISHIO: This is bigger than us. Viho is a leader of the Grove. He keeps our humanity whole. And if my boy Oda is in Mater, there is no stopping me. While touched, Mrs. Vidal remains unconvinced. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): How much is he paying you? She glares at him. He's clearly struck a nerve. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): Enough, I see. If you want more, you best hope he still breathes. She lets out a long sigh and nods. MR. NISHIO (cont'd): Meet me at the cemetery. The directive confuses Mrs. Vidal. (3/7/23 4:07 a.m.) CUT TO BLACK. ******************************************************************************* (4/25/25 8:24 p.m.) EDITOR'S NOTE: The following is a transcript of a video edited by Martie "Murds" Mood. Title: How Broken Age Utilizes its Dual Narrative -- strummerdood Description: Free Palestine -- The 100 Years' War on Palestine (2020), a history book by Rashid Khalidi Visibility: Public Restrictions: - Date: Feb 16, 2014 Views: 4,703 Comments: 24 Like (vs. dislike): 142 (95.9%) Hey, I'm strummerdood or Matt or whatever, I don't know. I'm about to spoil Act 1 of Double Fine's crowd-funded adventure game Broken Age, which critics have called "charming" and "charming" -- they kinda just use the same word over and over again -- so, if you haven't played it yet, divert your eyes like someone just popped open the Ark of the Covenant...I'm pretty sure that counts as a Tim Schafer reference...positive... Broken Age finds its writer and designer Tim Schafer playing with the dynamics of a dual-narrative structure in a number of interesting ways. Fans of the genre will no doubt be reminded of the three protagonists that led the classic time-traveling adventure game Schafer co-designed. But the links between Broken Age's two worlds are a bit more nuanced than the mechanical puzzle-solving of Day of the Tentacle. Players are initially greeted with an aesthetically divisive image where they can choose to begin the game with either Vella, a young girl readying her ritualistic yet honorable sacrifice to the monstrous Mog Chothra, or Shay, a young cadet drifting through space with a pair of overbearing parents and a collection of yarn pals. Players would be forgiven for thinking the difference was a matter of separate time periods, assuming Vella's pastel, antiquated world hailed from the distant past, while Shay's ultra-modern spaceship existed in the future. I mean, it's called Broken Age for a reason, right? I didn't think two ways about it, believing Double Fine was paying a none-too subtle homage to their founder's directorial debut. But of course, I was wrong as the ending reveals Vella and Shay live in the same time period and have been battling one another throughout the game. It's only appropriate that one of the sacrificial maidens at the town Shellmound wore a red fish -- perhaps it was a herring. Get it? It's a literary device but it's also a fish. Get it? BOARD: Red Herring: Something, especially a clue, that is or is intended to be misleading or distracting I freely admit I fell for Double Fine's ruse, believing that the Dead Eye God, who you awaken from a 300-year stasis, was a middle-aged version of Shay from the past. They sure sold it well. Shay and the Dead Eye God were both a part of Operation Dandelion from the abandoned planet Loruna, and they both hack their respective ship's controls, only to crashland in Shellmound. BOARD: Fun Fact: Shay shares his last name with the inventor of the battery, Alessandro Volta. Alessandro is the Italian variant of the Greek name Alexander, which means "Defender of Man." The Dead Eye God's actual name is Alex...or he's just named after the voice actor Alex Rigopulos... Luckily, I wasn't alone in my erroneous predictions, as my friend made a similar assessment; the difference being he started with Shay and believed the Overmother was Vella. The overbearing computer talks of her honorable sacrifice while Vella's motif plays in the background. Really, how do you blame us? Seriously. BOARD: Our Perception When Starting With... Shay -- From the future, meets older version of Vella, exists 300 years after Loruna abandoned Vella -- From the future, meets older version of Shay, exists 300 years after Loruna abandoned These little tricks knocked us off the scent of the final twist, but also cleverly disguised some massive foreshadowing that helps align these narratives on a parallel time frame. The stories have their first real link when Shay begins "saving" creatures in various star systems. During his first mission, he reluctantly leaves behind one creature, who ends up being McGee from the cloud village of Meriloft. After that, he picks up an angry, feisty creature that detaches him or herself from Shay's grasp. Sound familiar? The simplistic designs of the space creatures even possess similar attributes to the extravagant maidens. Even cooler, the names of the star systems link up with their actual location. Talon Nebula refers to the claws of the birds that populate Meriloft. Danger System 5 represents Sugar Bunting, a town of reformed warriors -- hence, why Space Weaver has no qualms with traveling to a supposed dangerous system. And finally, we have Prima Doom, where Shay confronts Vella, the prima donna, or leading lady, of Broken Age. BOARD: Star Systems vs. Actual Locations: Talon Nebula -> Meriloft Danger System 5 -> Sugar Bunting Prima Doom -> Shellmound Of course, this is speaking purely at the surface level of the plot. Peeling back these layers reveals a common theme that much more dynamically links these two characters. Consider one of the more significant moments Shay and Vella share way before they even meet. In order to gain some freedom, they both find themselves cutting a binding tether and literally escaping the throngs of a claw attempting to keep them on a designated path. And then, they lose the knives they use...I'm not sure how that ties in just yet, but here's a knife saying something funny. KNIFE: I'm free! Free to cleave the infinite void of space itself. This symbolic scene between the two characters helps flesh out Broken Age's theme: that despite how radically different their lifestyles and backgrounds, they still aspire to lives that go against the expectations of others. Funny enough, the title of Broken Age assists in illustrating this very theme as much as it does trick the player into thinking these kids are from two different time periods. BOARD: "It stands for the broken era in which these kids live and the awkward age they live in and how they're breaking out of these cycles." -Tim Schafer By establishing the characters in this manner, Schafer conceptually builds empathy for both sides of a war. Though Vella ultimately seems to be in the right, Shay never feels as though his actions are harmful, giving his character, along with the gamer, a slighted point-of-view not unlike Shadow of the Colossus or BioShock. But most importantly, Double Fine's deft handling of a dual-narrative structure allows them to end an act of an adventure game with a massive a-ha moment, which is neat. Then again, this is only Act 1 and the next one may contradict everything I just said and make me look like a dumbass, so that'd just be magical, that'd be great, you know? BOARD: Fun Fact: Vella's last name is Tartine, which is the name of a bakery in San Francisco where Double Fine is located...This has nothing to do with what I'm talking about, I just thought it was cool. Hey, thanks for watching guys, and on the off-chance that Tim Schafer is actually watching this, I just want to say "thank you," because I watched Double Fine Adventure and you freewrote in it and I haven't seen that since, like, high school. So, for the first time in a while, I just sat down with a pen and paper and relied on my instincts and I ended up with a first draft in like 15 minutes, and that's kind of crazy, so thank you. (Matt shows the pen marks in his notebook.) Look: words. Handwritten words. It's actually really hard to read. You know what: screw you, Tim Schafer. Because now I gotta read this goddamn crap. I spoke poetic in this. I can't read it. It's 2012 or something, it's not the 20th century anymore. Handwriting!? That doesn't make any sense to me! Dammit!