Aftermath

Characters

Kora: Early 20s. Smart and strong-willed. Possesses a gravitas beyond her years.

Him/Miller: 30 – 45 years old. A former civil servant, he is also a white supremacist.

Child: 4 – 5 years old. Kora’s older sister’s daughter.

Zita: A woman of indeterminate middle age. Embittered by life. Emboldened by circumstance.

Amal: 25 – 35 years old. Was an engineer in his homeland; here, he runs an electronics store.

Max: A psychologist, between 40 – 50 years old.

 

[The not too distant future, soon after an event that should have caused the end of the world. A tangle of bombed out concrete structures with talons of rebar reaching into the sky. It is quiet. A young woman in ragged clothing is scavenging in what could be the ruins of a library. She is humming. She finds something of interest – a book, and begins reading from it.]

Kora:  In 1945, between February 13th and February 15th, the city of Dresden was bombed. The city had little military value; it was of no threat to anyone. It held mostly civilians, refugees, and wounded soldiers, and was thought of as a place of rich culture. Publications estimate the death toll as 24,000 to 40,000. An exact number is impossible because the temperature was so hot that people just disintegrated.

It’s an intriguing story. I find myself very interested. Do you think it’s worth anything?  [She tosses the book away and picks up another.] Now this… this might be worth something.

Susanna ached for him. Her hunger grew to ravenous lust. She felt wet below. A smile crossed his face. He was enjoying this. He nibbled at each breast, taking his time tasting and touching each one.

[Suddenly she is aware of the presence of another person].

Hey who’s there? I hear you. Don’t think I don’t.

Him:    Dirty gypsy. [He spits.]

Kora:   This is my spot. Get lost.

Him:    I’m not going anywhere

Kora:   Find your own spot. [Beat. He stands there. She glowers at him]

Him:    Cat got your tongue, dirty gypsy.

Kora:   I’m not dirty.

Him:    Oh you’re dirty. You’re a filthy gypsy whore. Look around. No one’s got your back. Or maybe I’ve got your back

Kora:   You’re not the first one. I’ve killed bigger ones than you.

[He rummages around, taking what he wants of whatever he can find lying around in this bombed out library]

Him:    You talk big little girl. No one owns this. I’ll take whatever I damn well want. You won’t do anything to attract attention. Sure a feisty thing like you doesn’t need any protection? A little thing like you, here all alone? Sure, I bet you want a friend.

Kora:   I don’t want anything from you.

Him:    You’ll want it when I say you do [she starts to yell]. Shut your mouth or I’ll shut if for you.

Kora:   Hel..

[He stifles her cry by pinning her and covering her mouth. She kicks, fights, tires herself out and then is still, as if the life has drained out.]

Him:    You’re going to do whatever I want, you understand puppet. Take off your shirt. Take it off or I’ll take it off for you

Kora:   You’ll be sorry.

Him:    Now.

Kora:   I’ll kill you I swear.

Him:    Now. [he rips at her shirt]

Kora:   No. No, no, no.

Him:    Skirt.

Kora:   No.

[He presses against her windpipe, starting to strangle her]

Him:    Now.

[He rapes her, pushes her aside and continues perusing the rubble for anything of value.]

Him:    [He takes a book from her satchel.] Useless. [He keeps it.] You shouldn’t be out here alone. What did I tell you? It’s not safe. You should join us – we’re over by the old parliament, under the bridge. It’s a good spot. It’s protected. Come? [beat]

I think you’d really enjoy it.  No? I can’t see why you would ever want to leave this paradise over here. What’s your name? Didn’t anyone teach you any manners, I said what’s your name?

Kora:   Kora

Him:    Kora. Well, it’s your choice, Kora [as if tasting her name].  If you change your mind, you’ll know where to find me.

[He leaves. She lies there for a bit, and then starts to pick herself up. There is a rumble in the distance, machine gun fire, then quiet. A soft cry. She gingerly makes her way through the mess to a young child hiding in the rubble.]

Kora:   Did the guns wake you up?

Child:  No

Kora:   Were you listening? [The child puts her arms around Kora.]

Kora:   Shh. It’s ok.

Child: I wanted to come out but I was scared.

Kora:   You did the right thing. I was worried that he might find you. You must promise me, promise, to hide. If anyone comes around, you must hide so that they can’t find you. No matter what they are doing to me. Do you promise?

Child: But he was hurting you.

Kora:   It doesn’t matter. I am older, and bigger than you. See? It’s my job to protect you. For now, you need to be safe. You need to stay alive.

Child: Someday I will protect you. [beat] Tell me a story about before. How it used to be.

Kora:   You’ve heard my stories a million times.

Child: Please.

Kora:   Which one do you want to hear?

Child: One about my mother.

Kora:   Again? Are you sure… How should I start?

Child:  Once upon a time.

[Snap to black.]

[A bunker.  There is a group of people warming themselves around a small fire.]

Zita:    It’s not a question of politics. I’m talking about basic survival here.

Max:    But you can’t deny that we have some responsibility in this. We have a choice as to how we respond now, even if we did nothing before, now it is time.

Amal:  So you want to play the philosopher king?

Zita:    Exactly. This is no place for your existentialist ethics. We are well beyond that. We have to eat, and it doesn’t matter whose mouth we take it from.

Amal:  Let them eat cake.

Max:    That doesn’t make any sense.

Amal:  I know what I said. Bleeding heart liberal bootlicker.

Zita:    Always nattering on at one another, why don’t you just fuck each other and get on with it. [A man enters, it is Him.] Where the fuck have you been? We were getting ready to send out a search party.

Miller/Him:     Out.

Zita:    Out. That’s it? [beat] Did you find anything?

Miller: Oh, I found something. Firewood. [He tosses a book at her.] A library full of it.

Max:    You can’t burn that.

Miller: Watch me. [He throws another book on the fire.]

Max:    There’s rubbish everywhere, you don’t have to burn the last remnants of the world as we know it.

Miller: I’ve got news for you: this is it. Might as well forget about how things used to be and dig in.  Oh, I guess we can hold off on your precious books and stick to furniture and corpses for the time being. But there’s plenty where this came from.

Max:    You’re sick. It’s almost as if…

Miller: What.

Max:    As if you were enjoying this.

Miller: There’s no time like the present. There’s a girl over there, picking around where I found the books.

Zita:    She didn’t want to come back with you?

Miller: No. I think she was looking for something. There’s a creek over there too. No power, no running water, no signal. Nothing. Don’t know why she stays. I told her where she could find us.

Zita:    Good man.

Amal:  Another one of us. That makes seven, then. In the whole wide world. As far as the eye can see.

Max:    That’s impossible. We can’t be the only survivors.

Zita:    We can’t be, but we are. We must behave as though we are. We can’t hope that someone’s coming to save us, there is no evidence. It isn’t even clear what caused those explosions in the first place.

Max:    I’m not looking for a savior. I just don’t want to forget who I am.

Miller: We are starting from scratch here, Max baby. Welcome to the new world order.

[Fade lights.]