Transcript - Season 3, Chapter 15
GLOTTAGE DROWNED, EXT, DAY
What little we hear is distorted and strange; as if filtered through HAYWARD's own haze of shock and blood loss.
Monstrous screams - and a returning rattle of assault-rifle fire. (This is Brother Philly's gun.)
The hard breaths of CARPENTER, wading forward, still holding HAYWARD-
-and then the doors of CROSS' car open as she hauls the wounded man in.
CARPENTER:
(Distorted)
Step on it, Cross!
Make for the western highway, and don’t look back!
CROSS:
(Panicking, distorted)
All right, all right, ah, the western highway, that’s, um-
CARPENTER:
(Distorted)
Just get us out of this fucking city!
(Desperate and shrieking)
Hayward. Hayward, can you hear me?
Hayward? Hayward!
We hear the car rev up, roaring forwards-
CROSS' CAR, EVENING
-and still through that haze of HAYWARD's stupor, we hear the sound of the car speeding up onto the highway. The whirring of windscreen wipers.
HAYWARD and CARPENTER both narrate, their words overlapping one another, as they gaze down at the transformed city.
HAYWARD:
(Groggy and wounded)
You’ve never seen anything like it.
CARPENTER:
(Soft and in shock)
I’ve seen this before.
I longed for it, once.
HAYWARD:
I don’t know if it’s a miracle or just good driving, but Cross gets us up onto the higher ground of the overpass ahead of anyone else, dodging screaming cars and panicking pedestrians (and shrieking, tottering mayfly angels hunting down the panicking pedestrians, claws lovingly outstretched)...
...and then we’re fleeing over the city, and we have a perfect view of what’s been wrought.
CARPENTER:
Glottage is drowning in its own celebration, choking on the arrogance of its victory, dancing a wedding-day dance of sodden death.
HAYWARD:
The vast glass temple of the Saint Electric is still visible from the window. Something colossal and twitching is crawling up the side, its rainbow spiral-shell gleaming against the city lights, roaring in triumph.
CARPENTER:
Stampeding crowds pack the alleyways, frozen in silt and swarming barnacle, caught in the middle of their last desperate flight.
Crawling whiskered things making their nests inside each silent and screaming mouth.
The gods of the city are fighting back, too, indiscriminately and wildly, in defence of their franchised properties.
Sparks fly. Pylons walk. Vast lumbering beasts of concrete; howling wind-saints driving their parade-balloons furiously onward through the streets, swallowing their victims whole.
HAYWARD:
At one point, there’s a Jolly King Kipper parade float adrift in the streets below - streets which have become raging torrents.
Bobbing around in the water, circling and bouncing off one another, there’s five bodies in golden fish outfits. Giant heads, blinking eyes, mouths agape, tails kicking for air. Singing their god’s song aloud.
-and Carpenter, she doesn’t let go of my hand for a heartbeat, but even she sits up and stares like her old god’s found a way to surprise her.
CARPENTER:
Scornful laughter, echoing back out of thirty years of darkness.
I don’t care. Let him laugh.
HAYWARD:
I don’t feel afraid any more. That’s the strangest thing. I feel like I’ve been baptised.
I’m light on my feet. Giddy.
There’s a wonder and a gratitude in getting to see the foundations fall away - even if we’re still standing on the building as it begins its collapse.
(Almost offhandedly, as if he's realising it himself)
I also think I might be dying.
CROSS' CAR ON THE HIGHWAY, INT, EVENING
-and we come back to reality with a roar of the motor.
CARPENTER, CROSS and HAYWARD are in the car together, speeding out of Glottage. HAYWARD is bleeding out. CARPENTER is trying to help him, CROSS is driving fast while tuning the radio.
CROSS:
(Calling back, panicked and shaken)
Nothing on the radio. GGR is down. Harmonious Chords, down.
HAYWARD:
Need to…need to…
CARPENTER:
(Frantic)
Hayward, I need you to stay still. Everything’s going to be OK, you hear me? We’re heading back to the Grace now, we’re heading back to Paige-
(Calling out)
Cross, we need to find somewhere that can treat him!
CROSS:
Mellow Moves FM, that’s down.
(Verging on angry)
Good gods, what’s happened to Glottage? Mm? What did you people do?
CARPENTER:
(Faintly, to herself)
It wasn’t us.
It was the Parish.
A police car whizzes past, going on the opposite direction.
CROSS:
(Hollow, shaken)
I thought we’d won.
HAYWARD convulses, gurgling in pain.
CARPENTER:
Stay still, damn it!
Hayward, will you please stay still?!
CROSS finds a working radio frequency.
CROSS:
(Triumphant)
Ah - ma’am! Ma’am!
CARPENTER:
(On the very edge)
What?
CROSS turns the radio up.
It’s SAM KINCANNON from the news. She sounds genuinely shaken and horrified.
SAM KINCANNON:
(Over the radio)
This is Sam Kincannon, live with a special announcement.
Our current understanding is that Central Glottage has been struck by a massive divine event. A miracle of…historic proportions.
The death toll is unknown, but likely to be in the thousands and climbing.
A large number of extreme high-risk saints and angels are understood to be active throughout the central business district and downtown area.
For the security of the wider Peninsula, the city of Glottage is now in a state of quarantine.
CROSS, realising what this means, gradually slows the car to a halt.
SAM KINCANNON:
(On the radio)
The Peninsulan Army is already securing checkpoints twenty miles outside the city limits. Attempts to breach containment will be prevented by any means necessary.
Survivors are urged to make their way carefully and calmly along city highway G12, where temporary camps will be erected and supplies will be provided. Further updates will be given in due course once the city is secure and the risk of divine contamination is-
(Struggling)
-is-
(Sniffing tearfully, then regaining control of herself; her voice begins to cut out periodically)
I’m - I apologise to our listeners. Several members of my own family are still in Glottage and unaccounted for. But I am going to keep doing my job. That is my responsibility to all of you-
The radio fuzzes and cuts out entirely.
CROSS turns it off.
CROSS:
(Panicking)
They’re sealing us in. No way forward.
I - I - I knew this was a mistake. We’ll be trapped here, absolutely trapped.
And once they figure out who we are and what we’ve done, we’re-
CARPENTER:
You can’t talk your way past the checkpoints?
CROSS:
(Incredulous)
Talk my way past the army? Through a quarantine? With forged papers and a dying man in the back seat?
This isn’t a, a, parking ticket-
CARPENTER:
(Snarking back)
I thought you Adjudicators could always find a clever way to flout the rules-
CROSS:
(Shouting back)
Not like this, you bloody fool!
CARPENTER:
(Shouting)
Just calm down!
(Like soothing a child)
We’ll circle back around, OK? Figure something else out.
CROSS:
(Having a little freak-out)
Oh, yes, that’s wonderful! We’ll circle back around into the bloody drowning bloody city where we’ll be eaten by a bloody lobster-
CARPENTER:
Calm down, I said! We just need to find a hospital, or a Pox Monk, or a-
HAYWARD:
(Gurgling)
Ambulance.
CARPENTER:
Yeah, exactly, an ambulance would be-
HAYWARD:
(Pointing)
Ambulance. Ambulance.
Everyone goes momentarily quiet as an ambulance, sirens blaring, roars past them.
CARPENTER:
(Springing into action)
Keep up with it, Cross! Maybe it’s heading to a hospital.
CROSS:
(Focused on the road as he accelerates)
Righto! Right.
HAYWARD tries to get CARPENTER’s attention.
HAYWARD:
Carpenter-
CARPENTER:
Just hold still!
HAYWARD:
Bullet’s in my gut, Carpenter.
CARPENTER:
Doctor can help with that, but not if you keep bloody wriggling.
HAYWARD:
They’ll be coming for Paige now. They’ll be gunning for our people. We- we-
CARPENTER:
We didn’t do anything.
HAYWARD:
(Grimacing)
We fucked up. We fucked up everything.
CARPENTER:
(Frantic)
No, we didn’t.
Shrue spoke well, Hayward, they spoke well and they were brave, and if even one person heard it and was moved to act, well, that…
…that…
She can’t quite bring herself to claim that they made a difference.
HAYWARD:
Drop of water. In the face of the flood. That’s all we ever were.
He coughs and wheezes.
HAYWARD:
(Meaning the CAIRN MAIDEN)
Can you see her, Carpenter? Is she close?
CARPENTER:
(Ignoring the question)
Shut your mouth. Are you keeping up with that ambulance, Cross?
CROSS:
(Calling back)
It’s turning off, over on the right.
ZEPHYR-IN-MOURNING AIRFIELD, EXT, NIGHT
A metal gate clanks shut. We can hear the ambulance pulling away into the distance, having entered the airfield.
A second passes - and then CROSS' car also skids to a halt in front of the gates.
CROSS' CAR ON THE HIGHWAY, INT, EVENING
CARPENTER stares forward through the windshield and the rain.
CARPENTER:
Barbed wire fences. What...what is that, a military base?
CROSS realises where they are.
CROSS:
No. No, it’s…it’s Zephyr-In-Mourning.
Private airfield. The Church Electric uses it sometimes, as well as…
(Something dawning on him)
…as well as…
CROSS realises something else.
CROSS:
(Licking his lips excitedly)
Do you know…I think I have a notion of who might be in that ambulance.
And it’s going to make you laugh. Quite a lot.
PLANE (COCKPIT), INT, NIGHT
In the cockpit of a small private jet, a PILOT is adjusting his controls and speaking into his radio. We can hear the engines idling, as if ready for a speedy takeoff.
PILOT:
(Into his radio)
Peninsulan High Command. This is Captain Patrick Marshall, of the Britomart.
We have VIP cargo on board. Repeat, we have VIP cargo on board. We urgently need to secure passage through the exclusion zone.
Awaiting your permission for take-off.
(Silence; no-one answers)
Peninsulan High Command, this is-
RUNWAY, EXT, NIGHT
Out in the rain, with the engines roaring above him, a BODYGUARD paces back and forth on the jet's metal steps. He is also trying - and failing - to get through to his people.
BODYGUARD:
(Into his walkie-talkie)
Control, come in please.
We’ve arrived at the Zephyr-in-Mourning airfield and the High Adjudicator is prepped for safe transport out of Glottage. Just awaiting confirmation that we’re clear to fly.
(With a frustrated sigh)
Control, come in.
(Still not getting an answer)
Can anyone…gods damn it, is anyone there?
(To himself)
Fuck!
AIRFIELD WAITING LOUNGE, INT, NIGHT
The BODYGUARD stomps angrily through the door and into a small waiting lounge.
BODYGUARD:
Ugh!
There's a vending machine on the wall, and also a lotto machine, which is playing circus-esque music over the ensuing scene.
LOTTO MACHINE:
(In a clown-like voice)
Ho ho ho! Jongo The Jangleclown loves a Jackpot champion! Buy a ticket today and you could be one of millions across the Peninsula to cry out JONGO!!! As you win big!
These are today’s winning numbers: Meabh de Brun, Jimmie Yamaguchi, Felix Trench, Lou Sutcliffe, Rhys Lawton, Alex Nursall, Lucile Valentine, Ishani Kanetkar, Erika Sanderson, H.R. Owen, B. Narr.
(Moe normally)
Terms and conditions apply. Please be advised, crying out the name ‘Jongo’ in celebration may bring the shadow of the Jangleclown down upon you whereupon a fatal run of lamentable bad luck will ensue.
The BODYGUARD puts a few coins into the vending machine and makes a selection. The coins are returned.
BODYGUARD:
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
He leans down, collects his coins, and tries again. This time a food item drops.
As the BODYGUARD leans down to pick it up, the door opens behind him. CROSS whistles to get his attention.
BODYGUARD:
(Turning)
Huh?
...and from the other direction, CARPENTER pistol-whips him in the head with her rifle.
As the BODYGUARD falls, the LOTTO MACHINE makes a happy 'jackpot' noise.
PLANE (CABIN), INT, NIGHT
We can hear an ECG machine and the laboured breathing - as if through a ventilator - of the comatose HIGH ADJUDICATOR.
A POX MONK is praying over him, while beating a small drum.
POX MONK:
(As if chanting in prayer)
Brother Boil, you swell to burst. Let your relief come swift to this great man, who is needed to lead his nation to glory.
Sister Sore, the aches you send serve as warning of harm and herald of healing. Let your bruises turn to purple, then to yellow. For it is in the nature of all things to heal in time, and nothing should be borne forever-
(As if to a colleague, annoyed at the prayer failing to work)
Still nothing? Gods above, what the hell did he do to himself?
And then CARPENTER steps through the curtain and into the cabin, cocking her rifle to get everyone's attention. Screams from the assembled DOCTORS and CABIN CREW.
POX MONK:
Don't shoot, don't shoot!
CARPENTER:
(Yelling out, in her element despite everything)
All right, everyone remain calm, please! This is a good old-fashioned religious hijacking, we don’t have a sense of humour about it, and we don’t have any time to waste!
(Aside)
That your man on the gurney, Cross?
CROSS scurries forward onto the plane.
CROSS:
Yes, that’s him all right.
(To the HIGH ADJUDICATOR, cheerfully)
Hello, me old mucker. Rushing back to your estate in the lowlands, were you? Appreciate the lift.
CARPENTER:
(Shouting out)
The rest of you - you the High Adjudicator’s doctors?
(To nods of agreement)
Yeah, not any more you’re bloody not. We’ve got a wounded man in the car. Get him on board, get him onto the gurney. Patch him up. Heal him as best as you can.
If he dies, you’ll all be taking a leap of faith from round about 20,000 feet.
(Aside)
Watch them, Cross.
CROSS briefly mishandles SISTER DAWN's rifle before aiming it at the hostages.
CROSS:
Right.
(To the DOCTORS)
Come on, chaps, let’s get to work! Now, please!
CARPENTER strides through to the cockpit, pushing the door open.
CARPENTER:
(Calling out)
Pilot! Pilot-
In the cockpit, the PILOT is still hurriedly attempting to hail someone over the radio.
PILOT:
(Quietly hissing)
Repeat, Glottage High Command, this is Captain Patrick Marshall. We have just been taken hostage by a dangerous group of-
(As CARPENTER bursts through the door)
Ahh!
...I’m putting the radio down.
Please don’t kill me.
CARPENTER:
Nah, you’re fine.
(Forcefully)
But I’m gonna need you to get this thing in the air, please. Fast as you can.
You’re going to follow the highway north-north west.
I’ll direct you when we get closer and we can find somewhere safe to land.
(‘Chop-’chop’)
Come on, come on, chocks away! Weigh anchor!
PILOT:
(Wincing, trying to placate her)
We - I can’t actually take off. We don’t have permission from-
CARPENTER:
(Acidly)
I permit you.
PILOT:
(Frantic)
The nation’s on high alert. We can’t just fly through a military containment zone without-
CARPENTER:
Yes, you can. Of course you can. Whole fucking country’s built on making exceptions to the rule for the right person, and who could be more exceptional than that asshole on the gurney back there?
(Changing tack)
There are dark and dreadful things rising from the depths of Glottage, captain, and I know you don’t want to still be sat here on the tarmac when they arrive.
Not because you insisted on going through the proper channels and you couldn’t get an answer.
Am I right?
Get us in the air. Keep hailing them as you go. Tell them we’ve got the future of the unified Peninsula in our hands and we don’t expect to be shot at.
Right now.
PILOT:
All right. All right. Uh-
(On the plane's intercom, a little hysterical)
If - if someone could please detach the mobile steps and then secure the cabin door, it’d be appreciated.
And then…and then please take your seats, everyone.
The safety presentation will begin shortly.
He puts the radio down and begins flicking switches.
PILOT:
You can take the other chair.
CARPENTER - suspicious of him, and perhaps a little nervous about flying for the first time in her life - doesn’t move.
The PILOT turns around in his chair.
PILOT:
(Honestly)
The entire country’s been systematically over-feeding militarised wind-gods for the past year and a half to maintain our air defences.
I promise you, you’re going to want to be buckled in once we hit the first wave of turbulence.
CARPENTER:
Fine.
She takes her seat next to him and buckles in.
PILOT:
(Half-sympathetic)
You look nervous. Ever flown before?
CARPENTER:
No, actually.
(Beat; acidly)
You ever been shot in the face?
PLANE (CABIN), INT, NIGHT
A SAFETY DEMONSTRATION begins to play over the speakers.
CROSS buckles a wheezing HAYWARD into his chair and then runs across the aisle to take his own seat, next to the wheezing HIGH ADJUDICATOR.
CROSS:
(To the comatose man, hesitantly)
High Adjudicator, I, um -
Something doesn't feel right. He pauses, and then takes off his necktie.
CROSS:
(More cheerily and firmly)
Sorry to inform you that I am resigning. Effective immediately.
On behalf of myself and Adjudicator Shrue.
(As if getting an answer)
Yes, I’d be sorry to lose me too.
(Spotting champagne on the side)
Mm! Is that champagne?
The HIGH ADJUDICATOR, understandably, does not reply.
CROSS:
(As if getting an answer)
Well, yes, I suppose we really ought to toast our parting.
Don’t suppose the renegades will have much of this to go around-
He pops it and pours-
PLANE, EXT, NIGHT
–the plane rolls across the runway, gathers speed, and soars into the air.
GOVERNMENT FIELD CAMP, EXT, NIGHT
A pen is tapping impatiently. In the background, we can hear pouring rain and the occasional sound of emergency services personnel rushing by.
CARSON, in a hastily-erected field camp, is on the phone to the GRINDINGLORD’S people. They're not happy.
CARSON:
(Mock-supportively, into the phone)
Yeah, I know. I know, I know. It’s shocking.
You’re right, you’re right, unprecedented savagery. An atrocity which will live on eternal in the memories of the nation.
(Arguing back)
No, no, no, Greg - believe me. Of course we’re not backing down on this.
Can you even imagine? We legalise a faith, we herald them as war heroes and then they answer by blowing up Glottage? We’re not - we’re not even considering it. Absurd. It’d make us look reckless, we’d be a laughing stock.
(Trying to change the subject and get some praise for himself)
Speaking of stock! I actually spoke to their leader right before it - before it all went belly-up.
She gave a handshake agreement, she loved the idea, ready to go. Practically signed it over on the spot.
(Listening)
I know. Yeah, I know. Yeah, it’s shocking.
I was in the centre of things, y'know, Greg, I barely escaped with my life!
(Getting annoyed)
Well, if the Saint’s people are so horrified, they can take their sodding dam off the White Gull, can’t they? Absolute hypocrites.
(Reassuring)
There’s - Greg - there’s absolutely no need for us to back down on this. We’re going to kill about four birds with one stone here. Just you wait and see. It’s all going to tie together nicely.
I’m not even on the board yet, and look at me - working hard for the company. Team player. Hope that’ll be remembered.
(Growing impatient with being lectured)
Just - give me one second. Juggling problems endlessly right now.
Daily Grind goes on, hm?
CARSON puts the phone down. He sighs, picks up a can of Tranquili-Tea Seven, and takes a swig.
Then he takes a breath and redials.
CARSON:
(Into the phone)
Hawthorne? How’s the field office looking? You safe, you happy? Good.
(Pretending to care)
Yeah. Yeah, lot of casualties here as well.
(Listening)
I know. Shocking. Unprecedented savagery, wouldn’t you say?
OK, we can fix this. I...I’ve got it all figured out. We don’t need to walk anything back.
There’s a mob of the Woundtree’s people in the ruins of a town called Bellwethers, right by the western border.
Contact high command, tell them to redirect the coastal defences. A quick march west. Send the jeeps, send the helicopters. No rockets, not this time.
I want those people taken alive.
(Brightly)
And then…and then get in touch with Val. She needs to come home. Tell her we’ll have her mother trussed up and waiting for her on this side of the channel.
She needs to make it so they did this. They were responsible for this. Indisputable proof. We want everyone to remember, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Children of the Woundtree committed a historic atrocity here today.
I’ll run interference in the meantime.
If - if she can do that for us, nothing else matters, you understand? She can take Nesh, she can turn the entire CLS into her personal mummy-issues playground if she wants to. I’m willing to be reasonable here, we can be super accommodating.
But we need to wrap things up so everyone knows who was really to blame. We need to ensure the real threat is removed for good.
That make sense? Fabulous work, Hawthorne. Thank you. You are loved, you are appreciated.
All right, gotta go. Speaking to GGR now.
He hangs up, stands, opens his umbrella, and begins to walk through the field camp.
A HALLOWED PATIENT on a gurney (the same PARADE-GOER who failed to listen to SHRUE's speech last episode) is convulsing in pain.
PARADE ATTENDEE:
(In agonising, gurgling pain)
Huuuuh - Hah! It’s inside me, it’s crawling inside me, it’s trying to get out, I can feel it-
CARSON:
Ooh, hang in there, we’re all in this together-
He steps through the doorway just as the HALLOWED PATIENT is audibly flamethrowered.
FIELD CAMP (HOSPITAL), INT, WARD
CARSON takes a breath and continues cheerily moving forwards. SAM KINCANNON, exhausted and in shock, is waiting to conduct her interview with him.
CARSON:
(Approaching SAM KINCANNON)
Sam! Mwah, mwah. You doing OK, sunshine?
(Sympathetically)
Hey, come here. Big hugs. You’re doing incredible work. Astonishing resilience.
SAM KINCANNON:
Thank you, Press Secretary. I’m - I’m a little shaken, I’ll admit.
CARSON:
(Squeezing her hand)
Me too, me too. But we’ll get through this together, OK?
We’ll be strong for our friends. For the country. Battle armour’s going on.
SAM KINCANNON:
(Pulling herself together)
You’re right. We can do this.
CARSON:
Hell yeah, we can!
SAM takes a breath.
SAM KINCANNON:
All right, we’ll run a take in 3.
CARSON:
OK.
SAM KINCANNON:
3, 2, 1…
(As if into a mic)
As the entire Peninsula mourns, I’m standing amongst the dead and injured in a field camp just outside the Glottage quarantine zone.
The city is still locked down. Countless saints and angels roam free in the darkness. The death toll continues to rise.
With me is Press Secretary Carson, speaking now on behalf of the High Adjudicator.
CARSON:
Well, Sam, this is…this is a shocking day.
(Repeating the same words he'd already practiced during his phone calls)
A historic act of unprecedented savagery, an atrocity which will live on eternal in the hearts and minds of the Peninsula.
And it’s going to take time, of course, to sift through the rubble, separate fact from fiction, and I’m sure there will be all kinds of hysterical stories.
But we all heard the radio. We all know who was responsible for this.
“Kill your gods.” That’s what they said.
(Working himself up into an impassioned diatribe)
Adjudicator Shrue, once a dear friend of mine - now turned to extremism and terrorism on behalf of a murderous death-cult, the Children of the Woundtree. An act of unfathomable, indiscriminate evil committed against a civilian population.
The entire world condemns this barbarity, this cruelty, this unthinkable wrong-
SAM KINCANNON:
(A little confused)
Press Secretary, uh, so just to clarify for our listeners. You’re saying that the attack was not carried out by the CLS?
CARSON:
(Only just remembering that the CLS exists and is a more plausible scapegoat)
No, no, they were involved as well. Absolutely.
(Working himself back up)
A, a collaboration between embittered foreign remnants and a terrorist death-cult. There can be no doubt.
SAM KINCANNON:
And any word on the safety of the High Adjudicator?
CARSON:
(Only just remembering that the High Adjudicator exists, and seeing this as a great opportunity to kill him off)
Oh!
Oh, I’m very sorry to share the news that the High Adjudicator was present at today’s parade - and, tragically, he was also killed during the attack.
His last act, I’m told, was to help a family of survivors to safety. He will be mourned. He will be missed.
(Getting passionate once more)
But justice will be served, and it will be served swiftly. We will hunt down the Children of the Woundtree, the perpetrators of this vile atrocity, and there will be a great and terrible reckoning.
I have already redirected our troops on the northern coast to begin a search-and-destroy operation against these murderers.
They will have no place left to hide. They will be scoured from the face of the Peninsula, and we will never forget exactly what kind of terror is wrought by their monstrous ideology.
And then we're listening to CARSON's voice as if it's on the radio - and the GGR team begin to play a soft, rousing tune beneath his words.
CARSON:
(His voice turning gentle and emotional)
And yet - and yet in spite of everything we’ve suffered today, I’m grateful.
I’m grateful for the work of GGR’s security team, Sam, thanks to which I can now confirm that the traitor Shrue and their accomplices were shot dead before they could cause any further harm.
I’m grateful to our armed forces for securing the quarantine zone so quickly, and for our emergency services for their incredible work.
I’m grateful to our homegrown gods who heroically fought back in defence of our city.
In particular, credit must go to the newly-legalised Parish of Tide and Flesh, whose leaders sacrificed themselves without hesitation to flood the streets of Glottage, extinguishing innumerable fires across the city and preventing the Woundtree’s attack from spreading any further.
We have a great deal to thank them for.
And I hope…I hope that in time, their mantra can become a message for our people.
The river rises. Glottage will rise again.
SAM KINCANNON:
(Still baffled, but trying to keep up)
So the flooding across the city, that’s-
CARSON:
(Nodding emphatically)
A security measure to keep our people safe, that’s exactly right. Countless lives saved in the process. Genuine heroism-
THE GRAND AQUIFER, INT, NIGHT
-and then we cut back to the GRAND AQUIFER's crowded entrance chamber, where pandemonium is breaking out at CARSON's words, being played over the radio.
Shouting, arguing - even a few scuffles. The gongs ring out impotently.
The Parish has changed nothing, and their reality is being denied.
FAULKNERIAN FANATIC:
(Panicking)
No. No, they’re lying! They have to be lying! High Prophet, say something!
Is the Trawler-man angry with us, High Prophet? High Prophet, what’s happened?
SIBLING RANE:
(Urgently, overlapping)
Turn it off, Sister Cull. Turn it off NOW.
(Turning nervously to the crowd, trying to rally them)
Uh, the false-faith Legislatures may attempt to deny the reality of our power. They may…equivocate and distract.
But we all know what we heard. The power of the Wither Mark. The river’s wrath.
We won. We won, and all of them will see that. They-
But RANE, too, is now unable to make themselves heard.
At the sight of this, FAULKNER begins to cackle from his throne - morbidly, manically, hysterically.
SIBLING RANE:
(Trying to spin FAULKNER's laughter as something positive.
High Prophet Faulkner agrees with me. This is only the beginning-
FAULKNER keeps laughing.
SIBLING RANE:
...High Prophet Faulkner.
(Their last nerve cracking)
High Prophet Faulkner, will you PLEASE stop laughing-
PLANE, EXT, NIGHT
We briefly hear the PLANE roaring over the Peninsulan countryside, making its way north-west.
PLANE (COCKPIT), INT, NIGHT
And inside, CARPENTER is glaring at the PILOT. It's a bumpy, noisy ride.
The PILOT is distracted by his efforts to fly the plane, but is still attempting to hail anyone he can over the radio.
CARPENTER:
Is it always this rocky - ach! - or are you just a really dreadful fucking pilot?
PILOT:
I told you, the winds are getting worse!
(Into the radio)
Peninsulan High Command, this is the Britomart. We have taken off with VIP passengers onboard. We will shortly be passing out of the quarantine zone.
We can confirm we have no divine materials and no miraculous product with us on this flight.
Please confirm and acknowledge.
No reply.
CARPENTER:
You want to focus on flying the plane, maybe?
PILOT:
Try them yourself if you like.
CARPENTER snatches up the radio.
CARPENTER:
(Into the radio)
Peninsulan High Command. This is the-
PILOT:
Britomart.
CARPENTER:
(Into the radio, saying it wrong)
This is the Brightomart.
PILOT:
Britomart!
CARPENTER:
(Into the radio)
We’re getting out of Glottage. Don’t kill us.
Nobody responds.
HAYWARD:
(Weakly, from the back of the plane)
Carpenter! Hey, Carpenter.
CARPENTER calls back to CROSS.
CARPENTER:
Cross! I need you in the cockpit.
CROSS - perhaps a little tipsy from this point onwards thanks to all of the champagne - hurries through into the cockpit.
CROSS:
I’m here, I’m here-
CARPENTER unbuckles herself and begins to stagger back out of the cockpit.
CARPENTER:
Here. Keep hailing them. Peninsulan High Command. Tell them we’re not to be harmed. Make up a story.
CROSS takes his seat next to the PILOT.
CROSS:
(Into the radio)
Uhm…hello, hello. Can anyone hear me?
I’m speaking on behalf of, um -
(Checking to see that CARPENTER is no longer within earshot)
-a tall, very angry woman-
PLANE (CABIN), INT, NIGHT
CARPENTER takes a seat next to HAYWARD. He's relatively stable, but slurring and audibly doped-up.
CARPENTER:
You doing all right, Hayward? Still living, huh?
HAYWARD:
(Groggily)
They injected me with something. Chanted a whole bunch of stuff. Feeling a little better.
CARPENTER:
They’re good at what they do. Usually it’s gods’ wounds they heal.
Silence.
HAYWARD:
What a fucking mess, huh?
CARPENTER:
I’m sure it all makes sense to someone.
HAYWARD:
Can you see your - your friend with the-
CARPENTER:
(Firmly)
It doesn’t matter if I can see her. You’re not going to die here, Hayward-
HAYWARD:
(Woozily, happily)
No, no, you don’t understand. It’s not a bad thing.
It occurred to me earlier.
You said the other night - she’s been following you since Marcel’s Crossing. Amirite? Leading you on. Chasing you about.
CARPENTER:
That’s right, yeah.
HAYWARD:
So what is that, a year? Longer? That’s how long you’ve been seeing her?
CARPENTER:
It’s longer. So what, Hayward?
HAYWARD:
(Dizzily, chuckling merrily)
Just occurred to me.
If she’s been leading you on for that long, chasing you for that long, and you still haven’t reached her yet…
(Proud of himself for coming up with it)
…she’s really not trying to show you the way to where you die so much as showing you the way to keep on living, is she?
Silence. CARPENTER glares at him. His point is both inescapably true and far too corny for her to ever accept.
CARPENTER:
(Insulting)
You know you can find meaning in anything if you mess around enough with words, don’t you?
HAYWARD:
(Weakly laughing)
Never have a kind piece of feedback for anyone-
Silence.
CARPENTER:
(More seriously)
You know we haven’t failed her, right? You know it wasn’t your fault?
HAYWARD:
(Sarcastically)
Never is.
Silence. CARPENTER tries to rally HAYWARD's spirits. She's afraid she's going to lose him.
CARPENTER:
All right, listen. We’re going to make it back to Paige and the others.
We’ll head somewhere else, somewhere the government can’t find us, we’ll figure it out.
All three of us - we can all go on living, Hayward. Just like you said.
Silence. HAYWARD is not esponding.
CARPENTER tries a different tack. She's thinking of what BROTHER WHARFING told her back in Season 2.
CARPENTER:
(As if revealing a wonderful truth)
There’s...there’s a place someone told me about. A kind of barber’s temple, and you go there to get your hair cut in absolute silence.
A perfect silence. A restful peace.
We can go there together, the three of us, you and me and Paige. Make a day trip out of it. We just need to survive this. How does that sound?
HAYWARD:
(Bewildered and groggy and amused)
Sounds…absolutely terrible. I mean, that’s ridiculous. Hate the very idea.
Why wouldn’t you be allowed to talk, Carpenter? That’s half the fun of getting your hair cut.
What, you just sit there in silence? Like it's a morgue?
CARPENTER:
(Giving up)
OK, yeah. Different strokes for different folks. I get it.
Silence between them.
CARPENTER:
You ever flown in a plane before?
HAYWARD:
Not me.
CARPENTER:
Feels funny, looking out over the Peninsula from above.
Must be how the Trawler-man feels, when he looks up at us from his garden.
Silence.
CARPENTER:
(Confessing it, pained and rough)
I failed her too, Hayward. Failed you.
Hurts, looking back, knowing how close you came. I wish we’d left a day earlier. I wish we’d got to Shrue before we did.
I wish I’d been faster in the few fleeting moments when it mattered.
I wish I hadn’t spent half my life willing Glottage to drown in my river’s fury...
...only to then have to witness it with eyes that could no longer deem it beautiful.
Damn it, if the half-glimpsed things watching from the darkness do have a greater plan for us - Trawler-man, Cairn Maiden - then why isn’t it a better plan?
If this is what they wanted, Glottage drowned and destroyed, then why did they make me dream in wonder of that moment for so long, and then let me change?
Past all wonder...
...into fear?
HAYWARD, weakly, pats her on the hand.
HAYWARD:
Piece of advice for you, Carpenter. Learnt it a long time back.
You country people? You get way, way too serious about your gods.
I’ll put my faith in Paige, if I have to put it in anyone.
CARPENTER sighs.
CARPENTER:
Let’s hope she’s been keeping up with the radio.
THE GRACE (RADIO TOWER), INT, MORNING
We can hear the familiar sounds of the GRACE - the howling winds, the dancing wind chimes - in the background.
ELGIN and PAIGE are listening to SHRUE's final broadcast.
SHRUE:
(On the radio)
These are the marks of the Many Below.
Use them, pass them on, do not forget the suffering that keeps the engines of this world turning, forget the name of your god and cherish the name of your neighbour that was swallowed up by it-
Kill your gods!
Gunfire, then static.
ELGIN turns the radio off.
ELGIN:
(Roughly)
That’s the last thing we heard.
Then Glottage goes black, and when the radio comes back on, they’re talking about a major attack. Ten thousand dead. The city in flight, the old town and the business district destroyed. The High Adjudicator murdered.
And they’re saying it was us.
(Perhaps a little guilty)
I…I had no idea the Woundtree could operate on a scale like this, Paige, I didn’t-
PAIGE:
(Gently)
It wasn’t us, Elgin.
She gets to her feet and walks to the window. We can hear faint singing outside.
PAIGE:
Is that...is that music?
ELGIN:
A few of the disciples have begun celebrating out in the square. I told them to stop, but-
PAIGE:
(With a sudden flash of anger)
Send them away. Shame on them, Elgin.
What are they thinking? Some of our people will have friends still in Glottage, they’ll have family and loved ones, they’ll have-
-and then it hits her, all at once.
PAIGE:
(Taking a hard, ragged breath)
Have we heard anything from Hayward?
ELGIN:
Nothing.
They’re saying Adjudicator Shrue broke into GGR, trying to hijack the radio station.
They’re saying that Shrue…and their accomplices…were all killed on the scene.
PAIGE just takes this in, silently.
ELGIN:
(Urgently)
Paige, if you’re saying it isn’t true, I believe you. But..they’re declaring war on us.
We have to…we have to…
(Desperate and lost)
Gods, I don’t fucking know what we have to do.
PAIGE gets to her feet. She’s grieving, but resolved.
She grabs a cassette from the side and inserts it into the radio tower's deck.
PAIGE:
I do.
But we have to move quickly.
She turns the tape on.
All across the Grace, bells begin to ring out. The community is being summoned to one last meeting.
FIELD CAMP, EXT, MORNING
CARSON is snoring at his makeshift desk - when the phone rings beside him.
He quickly wakes up and grabs it.
CARSON:
(Groggily, into the phone)
Hawthorne? Hawthorne? What’s happened now?
(Genuinely annoyed at how reality keeps contradicting him)
The High Adjudicator’s plane? That’s - gods, it’s just one thing after another, isn’t it?
No, we’re not having it. Absolutely not. The High Adjudicator is dead, Hawthorne. I literally just announced it over the radio. We’ve already declared a day of mourning.
We - we can’t walk that back, we need to keep things consistent. We need to maintain trust in our institutions.
Shoot it down, please. I think that’s the responsible thing to do here.
Thank you.
He hangs up.
PENINSULAN COUNTRYSIDE, EXT, MORNING
Birdsong. It's another beautiful day in the Peninsula-
-and as the plane soars overhead, a SOLDIER runs to her position as an anti-aircraft gun wheels to follow the plane's trajectory.
A SUPERIOR OFFICER cries out 'Fire at will!' over the radio, the SOLDIER cries 'fire!' in turn-
-and the anti-aircraft guns FIRE, all at once.
PLANE (CABIN), INT, DAY
-and there are screams from the DOCTORS and CABIN CREW as a shell explodes close by. The plane is audibly floundering - it's already been hit.
CARPENTER hits the floor. She struggles back to her feet-
CARPENTER:
(Yelling)
Hayward, just stay still-
HAYWARD:
(Still doped-up)
Don’t have a choice in the matter, really-
CARPENTER runs up the aisle, past the terrified POX MONK-
POX MONK:
Why are they firing at us? Don’t they - don’t they know who we’ve got on board?
-and into the cockpit.
PLANE (COCKPIT), INT, MORNING
Lots of urgent-sounding emergency signals are beeping inside the cockpit. The PILOT is trying his best to remain calm. CROSS is trying to hail someone over the radio again.
Periodically, another anti-aircraft shell explodes nearby.
CARPENTER:
What's going on?
PILOT:
They're fucking firing at us! I told you they wouldn’t let us through!
CARPENTER:
(Furiously)
Well, I hope this is satisfying for you! Cross, what are they saying?
CROSS:
(Pleased with himself)
Oh, I think I’m through to someone-
CARPENTER:
(Furiously)
That’s great, Cross! Tell them to stop firing!
CROSS tries again on the radio.
CROSS:
(Into the radio)
Peninsulan High Command. This is Adjudicator Edwin Cross, on board the Britomart. Cease fire. Please acknowledge.
(Lying through his teeth)
We have…we have several members of the Legislatures with us, including the High Adjudicator himself.
A shell explodes nearby. CARPENTER staggers; everyone cries out.
CARPENTER:
I don’t think they care, Cross!
CROSS takes a breath - and then tries to channel SHRUE.
CROSS:
(Forcefully, with growing passion, into the radio)
Listen. Whoever can hear this.
Right now the people standing at your shoulder ordering you to fire - they’re absolutely terrified that they’re about to become as disposable as the rest of us, and that fear is a weapon in your hands, if you’re only brave enough to use it.
They’re broken, do you understand me? They’re broken and they’re desperate and their greatest fear is that you will call them out on their bluff and see what happens next.
So call them out. Refuse to fire. Let us pass.
A long, pregnant pause - and then another missile WHOOSHES past the cockpit.
CROSS:
(Frustrated)
Aghh! Fucking arsehole!
CARPENTER:
You tried, Cross. You really tried.
Something ominous is beginning to beep. The plane is sounding more and more ragged.
CARPENTER:
Did they hit us?
PILOT:
(Now with an eerie calm)
Right engine’s out, left engine’s wheezing its last.
We’re still nearly an hour from the border. We’re not going to make it to your friends.
I’m going to need to jettison the excess fuel, then find a place close by to put us down.
CARPENTER:
Down in the farmlands?
PILOT:
Farmlands are full of unexploded god-rockets, saints running wild. You really think that’s a good idea?
CARPENTER:
No, but I’d love to hear your alternative suggestions.
The PILOT thinks for a moment.
PILOT:
Water landing. We’re not far out from the White Gull. River’s wide and deep enough to carry us. It’s the safest place to ditch.
CARPENTER:
(Wearily)
The White Gull? Fucker’s laughing at me with both mouths.
All right, let’s do it.
PILOT:
Beginning our descent.
This is going to be rough.
A thought occurs to him.
PILOT:
(To CROSS and CARPENTER, urgently)
I want you both out of the cockpit, now. Get everyone to the very back of the plane, strap in there, and brace for impact.
CARPENTER:
Does that make a difference?
PILOT:
(Honestly - meaning ‘probably not’)
Sometimes.
CARPENTER hesitates - and then goes to the door.
CARPENTER:
Thank you, captain.
PILOT:
(Tensely)
You’re welcome.
She and CROSS hurry back through the plane.
PLANE (CABIN), INT, DAY
The plane is going slowly down. We can hear the beeping alarms, the juddering roar of the engines.
The cheerful SECURITY DEMONSTRATION voice is now making a different announcement.
CARPENTER:
(Yelling out)
Back of the plane, everyone!
CROSS:
(To HAYWARD)
Come on, old boy, let’s get you up-
Everyone rushes to the back. CARPENTER and CROSS strap themselves in.
CARPENTER:
If you have any shocking government secrets, Cross, now might be your last chance to share them with the public!
CROSS, shaken, confesses something.
CROSS:
A few things do come to mind!
This time last year, I…I approved a military contract for my brother-in-law to manufacture new shell casings for the army! Ten million regular, every year, two hundred lawful sacrifices!
No evidence it ever worked!
CARPENTER:
I meant other people’s secrets!
But CROSS continues to confess.
CROSS:
(Upset)
And…and there was my opponent at the last election! Mindy Brightwater! Standup gal. I liked her! But I had to win, you understand? I had to beat her!
PILOT:
(Over the intercom)
Everyone be ready to brace. Pray to whoever you like.
CARPENTER takes a moment - and then confesses herself, hysterically and cathartically.
CARPENTER:
(Yelling now)
I drowned two girls at a shrine outside Blagdon Moor. Hitch-hikers! I was twenty years old!
Gods, they loved each other and they trusted me, they didn’t deserve what I did to them, but I wanted to prove to the Parish that I wouldn’t hesitate!
(Inviting HAYWARD to join in)
Hayward?
HAYWARD:
(Weakly, groggily)
There was…there was a guy outside of Marcel’s Crossing!
His name was Finch! I should have helped him but instead I pushed him to the edge! I think about him all the time!
CARPENTER:
(Yelling)
I killed a man at Winton Prior! They told me it was for the good of the faith, but I fucking knew it was because he’d taken up with Mason’s sister and he wanted to lure her back!
CROSS:
(Yelling)
I…I wrote my wine cellar off as a business expense! Five hundred and eighty bottles of finest Linger vintage, my life’s work! I said it was for hosting!
(As the exasperated final straw)
And I never sodding drank half of it!
CARPENTER:
(Yelling)
Feels better, doesn’t it! Anyone else?
CROSS:
(A panicked yelp, seconds before impact)
Oh, gods!
The plane roar gets overwhelmingly loud-
WHITE GULL RIVER, EXT, DAY
-and we CRASH.
We sit with the smouldering wreckage, the cries of startled birds, and the lapping water of the White Gull.
THE GRAND AQUIFER, CORRIDORS, INT, DAY
Footsteps in the silence. We briefly hear a LAPSED FAULKNERIAN FANATIC hissing at their comrades.
Some of FAULKNER's disciples are abandoning the cause.
LAPSED FAULKNERIAN FANATIC:
(Hissing urgently and softly)
Got the keys?
OK, come on - let’s get out of here. Stay low and stay quiet. Go, go, go-
They scurry on and away-
-and then, moment's later, RANE and SISTER CULL are proceeding down the corridor, mid-conversation, their voices urgently lowered.
SIBLING RANE:
(Disbelieving)
A plane crash?
SISTER CULL:
About thirty miles downriver. They just called it in. The government shot down as it flew over the exclusion zone.
SIBLING RANE:
(Shaking their head)
Bait and flesh. I suppose this is what it means to live in historic times.
SISTER CULL:
I want to take a patrol out.
(Trying to find a way to spin the crash as a victory)
We can...we can claim the wreckage as a sacrifice to the Trawler-man. We’ll devote any deaths to the river’s rise.
SIBLING RANE:
We already have more than enough fires to put out here, Sister Cull-
SISTER CULL:
(Warning, quietly)
Rane. We lost another dozen disciples this morning. They took three of the jeeps with them. A crateful of food.
More will follow unless we do something, fast.
(Wildly inventing)
We could say the High Adjudicator is on the flight.
SIBLING RANE:
That’s nonsense. Why would they shoot down their own people?
SISTER CULL:
It doesn’t matter, Rane.
We need a victory.
(Angrily)
Could the High Prophet not announce that the plane fell from the sky at the Trawler-man’s command? Could he not go on the radio and deny the government’s claims?
Could he do anything but sit and sulk in the Aquifer’s depths?
RANE sighs.
SIBLING RANE:
(Reluctantly)
I’ll - you go and investigate the plane crash, Sister Cull.
(With rising dread)
I’ll speak to the High Prophet.
THE GRAND AQUIFER (DREAMING CHAMBER), INT, NIGHT
SIBLING RANE steps into FAULKNER’s chamber and close the door behind themselves. It’s dark. Their feet splash heavily in the water.
FAULKNER is nowhere to be seen.
SIBLING RANE:
(Nervously)
High Prophet, I, ah-
High Prophet?
I - I see the dreaming pool’s been flooding.
No reply. SIBLING RANE walks forward, trying to catch sight of FAULKNER.
SIBLING RANE:
I’ll send someone down here with a mop.
(Approaching the throne)
I bring news. Several pieces of news, actually.
In spite of our best efforts and all of our plans…legalisation, alas, appears to be going ahead after all.
(Weakly)
Does their shamelessness know no bounds?
Uh, unfortunately, since hearing the latest government broadcasts, some of our people here have, it seems, been speculating that the Wither Mark is a lie.
That…you are a liar. That the Parish stands with the government now, against its foes.
These…these traitors have abandoned us.
(Holding back from saying the actual number)
Quite a number of traitors, in fact.
We are better off without them, of course. Stronger for having been purified.
(Rallying)
Brother Philly is really the one to blame. He should have ensured that Shrue clearly stated the truth about us, on air, for all to hear.
His incompetence will live on eternal in the Silt Verses.
(Trying to find a victory in all of this, and stealing SISTER CULL's idea)
In happier news. Sister Cull informs me that a plane has crashed in the White Gull downriver from here, shot down over the exclusion zone.
Packed with Glottage politicians, no doubt, and even perhaps some of the false Katabasians from down south.
A miracle, truly. A sign from the Trawler-man that-
And then we hear FAULKNER's voice, echoing out of the shadows of the chamber.
FAULKNER:
(Hatefully, from out-of-sight)
You killed her, Rane.
She survived so much, she fought so hard.
The whole world to choose from, and yet my sister was the one you landed on.
SIBLING RANE:
Uh - who?
FAULKNER:
(Roaring, from out-of-sight)
YOU KILLED CARPENTER!
Silence. RANE takes a step back.
SIBLING RANE:
(Very nervous, and not knowing what to say)
No, High Prophet. You killed her. The honour sits with you. It was your achievement.
It’s already written into the Verses. You - I would not take that away from you.
Silence.
SIBLING RANE:
(Trying to rouse FAULKNER's spirits)
Faulkner. We can - we can still fix this. This isn’t how it ends.
They cannot deny us twice. They cannot keep denying us.
If the Wither Mark appears again tomorrow, somewhere downriver. If it erupts the concrete of the Saint’s Dam. Sooner or later they will have to criminalise us again.
If we…if we demonstrate the extent of the river’s wrath, if we drown the land in bodies, they will have to admit that they have failed to tame us.
(Feebly)
They’ll have to.
So long...as we don't lose hope.
Silence.
And then we distinctly hear the door of the dreaming chamber being locked. RANE hears it too.
SIBLING RANE:
(Growing afraid)
...High Prophet?
FAULKNER's voice echoes out of the darkness from the other direction.
FAULKNER:
(From out-of-sight)
I didn’t want it to happen.
You heard me telling you, I didn’t want it to happen.
My express command, which is to be obeyed just as if it was a command from the depths of the White Gull itself.
Disobeying me is disobeying our god.
And yet you disobeyed me.
RANE pauses only for a heartbeat - and then very quickly walks back to the door and tests it.
It's locked. Before they can call for help-
FAULKNER:
(From out-of-sight)
You told me once that you didn’t want to be me, Rane. You said that you could not bear the weight and the responsibility of being chosen.
You said it was a childish thing, to believe yourself special.
SIBLING RANE:
(Sensing a trap)
That’s right. I did.
FAULKNER:
(Snapping furiously, from out-of-sight)
So why did you dare speak for me? Why did you give the order when it should have come from my lips and mine alone?
Why did you believe you had that right?
Why did you deny me?
RANE understands now. They step forward again - attempting to have an honest talk with FAULKNER.
SIBLING RANE:
(Placatory)
Forgive me, High Prophet. I meant no harm by it. No disrespect.
FAULKNER:
(Privately withering, from out-of-sight)
No, you’re selfless as me.
You think only of the good of the faith, Rane, I know that.
SIBLING RANE:
(Honestly, with sincerity)
I heard you hesitate, Faulkner. I saw you falter.
And when my brother falters, it is my duty to pick him back up. When my brother cannot serve, it is my honour to serve on his behalf.
You taught us that, back at the battle of Gulch.
I…I only wanted to live up to the lesson you taught us.
FAULKNER chuckles mordantly.
And then we hear the clack of his driftwood staff and his footsteps as he walks forward into view.
FAULKNER:
(As if to himself, with great bitterness and self-loathing)
What a wonder it is, to have spoken so many profound truths into the world that they can be thrown back into your face at every turn; to have taught so many wise lessons that each one can be used as proof of your own frailty.
(Sweetly)
No, but be honest with me, now, Rane. As my sibling, my one loyal companion.
Would you truly not want to be me? A better version of me, perhaps, who falters less and says the right words at the proper time?
(Temptingly)
My successor - someday when I am dead and gone?
What if I named you as such, in the Verses, for all to see?
RANE hesitates.
They don't want to say 'no' and insult FAULKNER...but they also don't want to say 'yes' and provoke his spite.
SIBLING RANE:
I, uh -
(Diplomatically)
Perhaps one day, I might hope to follow in your footsteps, of course. What an honour that would be.
Not as your equal, naturally. Not in contest with you, but…pursuing your good example.
(Making a crucial error)
Should the faith require, one day, a High Katabasian to rise again-
FAULKNER:
(Seizing upon the mistake)
Ah! But not a High Prophet. You think I’ve tarnished that title, do you?
Silence.
SIBLING RANE:
Like I said. We can fix this.
FAULKNER:
Then let’s begin fixing it now.
He drops his staff, kicks off his shoes, and disrobes. RANE splutters a little.
Then FAULKNER sinks into the waters of the dreaming pool.
FAULKNER:
(Cheerily)
I resented Katabasian Mason for refusing me my proper due. I’m willing to admit that.
I wouldn’t want you coming to resent me, Sibling Rane.
Not when you’ve worked so hard to get me where I am.
Come. Get into the water with me. We’ll baptise you, and we’ll crown you with the wreath of kelp.
(Chuckling lightly)
I’m a poor swimmer, Sibling Rane, so I’ll keep to the shallows. An irony my sister never failed to find amusing, I can tell you.
(Prompting)
Sibling Rane?
RANE hesitates. They are most definitely afraid for their life and unwilling to join FAULKNER in the water...but they don't know how to say it without completely shattering the shared performance of loyalty and trust.
RANE:
I...
FAULKNER:
(Persuasively)
There’s no greed in your heart, Sibling, no wrongful ambition. You hesitate not because you are afraid of me ,but because like any loyal servant, you disdain the allure of power.
But think of our people.
It would cheer the hearts of the Children of the Water to see you recognised.
You say we have deserters, traitors in our ranks who seek to flee - well, let them look upon you crowned, and let them find their courage.
SIBLING RANE:
(Very reluctantly)
I- I suppose it might help.
But High Prophet, I-
FAULKNER:
(Sweetly)
What’s wrong, Sibling?
SIBLING RANE:
(Finding a helpful excuse)
What about the expurgatory rites?
FAULKNER:
(Dismissively)
The Drowned Man’s Hearing? Ah, you said it yourself, Sibling, you have nothing to confess, nothing to be sorry for. We can discard all of that. Get to the proper ceremony.
Don’t keep me waiting.
I’m going to make you a Katabasian. That’s cause for excitement, not worry.
(Prompting)
You’re my most faithful servant, Rane. Aren’t you?
A very long silence.
SIBLING RANE:
(Feebly accepting their role)
Of course I am.
FAULKNER:
So come. Commit yourself to the water’s embrace.
Silence. Then SIBLING RANE comes forward - and then wades, slowly, into the dreaming pool to join FAULKNER.
FAULKNER:
(Encouragingly)
That’s it. Just lie back.
RANE lies back in FAULKNER’s arms. They're desperately trying to find a way to ensure that FAULKNER doesn't drown them.
SIBLING RANE:
Thank you, High Prophet.
I…I will remember this. I’m really very grateful-
FAULKNER:
(Soothing)
I know you’re grateful, Sibling. Ready to go under?
SIBLING RANE:
Just…just one moment!
(Frantically wheedling)
You’re…you’re not at all like Katabasian Mason. I’m sorry he denied you, I’m sorry he was selfish and stupid in refusing to recognise your greatness. You’re a better man than he was, a, a greater man, a kinder man-
FAULKNER:
(Careless)
Oh, don’t flatter me, Sibling Rane. If I was so much better than Mason, I wouldn’t have killed him.
Deep breath now.
SIBLING RANE:
(Shocked)
You-
FAULKNER dunks RANE underwater.
FAULKNER:
(Mock-grandly)
To become a Katabasian of the Trawler-man is to lose sight of light and love beneath dark waters; it is to renounce one’s past, to forget one’s old loyalties of family and fellowship; to become naught but a vessel of faith floating upon the currents of the divine. Do you accept this offering from the depths?
SIBLING RANE hurriedly pats FAULKNER's arm to indicate yes.
FAULKNER lets RANE back up, gasping.
FAULKNER:
Just like back at the water-butt, isn’t it?
(Dunking RANE again, in a grand and pompous voice)
To become a Katabasian of the Trawler-man is to change, as the Promised Bride changed, becoming silt and shadow and water in the image and the service of our Father.
Do you accept this offering from the depths?
RANE pats FAULKNER's arm. Nothing.
RANE does it again.
FAULKNER, laughing lets RANE back up.
FAULKNER:
You’re doing great!
(Dunking RANE again)
To become a Katabasian is, to shed skin and soul, to drown, and in drowning, be born anew!
Do you accept this offering from the depths?
RANE pats FAULKNER's arm. FAULKNER doesn't let RANE back up.
FAULKNER:
(Mockingly)
Are you sure, now? You don’t want to take the time to think it over?
This is what you want?
RANE pats FAULKNER's arm. FAULKNER still doesn't let RANE back up.
FAULKNER:
You want to be chosen? You want to be me?
RANE pats harder and more frantically.
FAULKNER:
Hm. You don’t look like me.
FAULKNER grabs his driftwood staff from the side.
FAULKNER:
It’s funny, Rane, it’s really, really funny! You don’t look any different! You’re meant to be born anew, Sibling! That’s what this is all about!
(Striking RANE with the butt of the staff)
You’re meant to be DIFFERENT! You’re meant to be BETTER!
Why aren’t you becoming SOMETHING BETTER?
On the third strike, the staff snaps apat. SIBLING RANE fights to the surface.
SIBLING RANE:
(Gasping)
Please! High Prophet! Please! I’m begging you!
FAULKNER:
(Cheerfully)
Still not cooked. Back in the oven!
FAULKNER pushes RANE back down.
FAULKNER:
(Drowning RANE)
Sssh, ssh, it’s OK, Charlie. Don’t worry, we’ll get this done. Quit splashing about.
(Wildly, excitedly, with occasional grunts of emphasis as RANE struggles)
That’s it, Charlie, that’s right, just don’t let up now, not when you’re so close, don’t surface, we’re so close, you and I, we’re almost there, we can almost hear the music, and once we hear the music, we’ll understand what it was all about, we’ll finally understand, and all the pain will be worth it, everything will be worth it-
-and we’ll be reunited in a better place, Charlie, all of us down there together, Dad and Eddie, you and me, and Carpenter. You can meet her, she’s our sister, you’ll like her, she’s got a sharp tongue in her head, and we’ll all laugh together, and we’ll all be happy-
-and we’ll plant a beautiful garden together, a garden below like you never saw before, and better things will grow there, better things will grow-
-and we’ll laugh, we’ll find a way to laugh about all of this.
RANE has stopped moving.
FAULKNER lies back and drifts in the water, breathing hard, cackling to himself - alone in the dark. Hysterical, elated, broken, and despairing all at once.
END OF EPISODE