Participants:
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| Scene Title | Way Down We Go |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | He'll make them all pay. |
| Date | January 18, 2018 |
Father tell me…
Black shoes clap loud on a hardwood floor, splashing through shallow water in mid-sprint.
…we get…
Eight men in suits lay crumpled in broken heaps amid splintered dining room furniture.
…what we…
The gray-haired man in the business suit fleeing the manor skids in the water underfoot, slams into the door frame and looks back wide-eyed over his shoulder, face ashen with panic.
…deserve
"Please! No!" He screams as his body shakes with horrified convulsions at the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching from behind.
Oh we get what we deserve
"Please!" The shadow of a large man silhouettes the old man's fragile form. "No!"
Six Days Later
Just Outside Wichita, Kansas
And way down we go
A pickup truck rolls off of a two-lane highway through rural Kansas, pulling into a dirt driveway and past a post and beam fence. A plume of dust is kicked up by the truck's passage, a heavy bundle wrapped in a blue tarp bouncing in the trunk.
Way down we go
Blood runs dark in the black plastic groove in the pickup's bed liner below the tarp. A single unlaced black loafer stick out from the wrapping.
Say way down we go
The truck's driver keeps one enormous arm out the window, corded muscles flexed and fingers tapping the side of the door to the rhythm of the music echoing over the radio. His mirrored sunglasses reflect the flat, pastoral terrain he's driving through, and the black smudge of a ranch style house drawing nearer on the horizon.
Way down we go
The truck pulls up under an elm tree out front of the ranch, engine clunking as it turns off. The driver pushes open his door, leaving the keys in the ignition and the radio on. Steadily, he stops the gentle spinning of a tire swing attached to the tree, then walks to circle around the back of the truck.
You let your feet run wild
A shaggy, brown dog comes running up, excitedly sniffing at his legs and ankles. Then, ears perked, watches as the driver flips down the tailgate. The dog sniffs at the air, then follows the dribble of blood from the tail gate's hinge to the dirt of the driveway below, curiously.
Time has come as we all oh, go down
Grabbing the blue plastic tarp, the driver hauls his wrapped bundle out of the truck, grabbing the shoe as an afterthought and hurling it out into the flat field beside the house. The dog rushes after it, barking excitedly, tail wagging.
Yeah but for the fall oh, my
Carrying the plastic-wrapped bundle in his arms, the driver walks around the ranch to the back yard where a shallow grave has been dug. There's several aluminum cans of gasoline beside the hole, an old and rusty shovel, and a two-way radio.
Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?
The driver hurls the body wrapped in the tarp into the grave, unceremoniously. Part of the plastic comes undone, revealing the gray-haired old man who hadn't gotten away this time. The driver scowls, staring at the old man for a moment before snatching the shovel and beginning to fill in the grave from the pile of fresh soil beside it.
'Cause they will run you down, down til the dark
Just one shovel in, there's a chirp from the radio. «Police are at the house. Did you get out?» The driver stops, narrows his eyes, and slams the shovel into the ground, approaching the radio.
Yes and they will run you down, down til you fall
He picks it up in a meaty hand, depressing the call button. "He's dead." There's a look back to the grave, fingers slowly coming off the call button.
And they will run you down, down til you go
«Good. Dispose of the body as discussed and return home.» Crackles the voice on the other end of the radio.
Yeah so you can't crawl no more
"Affirmative," the driver says before clipping the radio to his belt. He turns back to the shovel, wrenching it from the earth and returns to his work.
And way down we go
Each shovel of dirt hides his handiwork.
Way down we go
Then comes the cans of gasoline, grabbed by their rusting handles and brought into the house.
Say way down we go
He only returns once the smoke has started to come out the windows, an organge glow behind it.
'Cause they will run you down, down til you fall
As he returns to his truck, the dog is waiting there with the shoe, ears folded back.
Way down we go
The driver bends down, checks the dog's collar. "Stout," he reads aloud, then looks up to the dog.
And way down we go
"Get in the truck," the driver says with a motion to the open door, and the dog obediently follows the motion of the driver's chin, tail wagging ferociously as he bounds up into the driver's seat and then across to the passenger side.
Way down we go
The driver stands up, looking at the shoe left on the ground.
Say way down we go
"I hope you're good with kids…" the driver murmurs, as the building behind him spills with flames.
Way down we go
