An Episode of Remnants.

Content Warnings

• Discussion of death
• Descriptions of child abuse
• Discussion of abortion as an option
• Mentions of violent car crash 
• Descriptions of injuries
• Discussion of still birth
• Depictions of pre-1950s care for people with disabilities (the portrayal is caring and tender, but there is reference to abusive systems others are attempting to impose)
• Implications of sex
• Death in childbirth
• References to war
• Mentions of violent death in the context of war

Transcript

APPRENTICE
Sir? 

SIR
Yes? 

APPRENTICE
Where did you go? 

SIR
I didn’t. 

APPRENTICE
But we were…

SIR
Were we? 

APPRENTICE
I wish you wouldn’t do that. 

SIR
What? 

APPRENTICE
Whatever that is.

SIR
I was just asking a question. 

APPRENTICE
Yeah, but the wrong one. What were we doing? 

SIR
I don’t think we were. 

APPRENTICE
I don’t… the remnant. The rosary. Where’s it gone? 

SIR
I don’t know. You were holding it, reading it. she died. 

APPRENTICE
They all do. It’s what happens. It’s little fragments of a life, isn’t it, and every life ends the same way. Happy or sad. Quick or slow. Sudden or expected. We all go the same. 

SIR
I see. 

APPRENTICE
That’s not the point, the point is, where’s it gone now? 

SIR
Well, where did they go before? 

APPRENTICE
I don’t… I shelved or discarded them, before. 

SIR
There are no shelves here. 

APPRENTICE
No. But I didn’t decide anything, anyway. 

SIR
Maybe that’s where it’s gone. To the place where things are undecided. 

APPRENTICE
And that’s where, exactly? 

SIR
I don’t know. 

APPRENTICE
God. I wish I understood more about how this place works. If it is a place. I don’t know if that’s the right way to explain it, given all the… you know. 

SIR
I don’t. 

APPRENTICE
You don’t what? 

SIR
Know. 

APPRENTICE
Right. Of course. 

SIR
So what would you like to do? 

APPRENTICE
I don’t— maybe we should look for it. 

SIR
What was happening, when you noticed it was gone? 

APPRENTICE
I… woke up? I think? I don’t know. I’m not sure. 

SIR
I think something is happening. 

APPRENTICE
Isn’t it always? 

SIR
No, a specific sort of something. Something about this. Something about us. 

APPRENTICE
Mmm. You know, when I couldn’t find you, when I was out there. There was this huge, wooden door in the dust. I tried to dig my way under it, but there was more dust, even though I could see through the cracks and on the other side, everything was still there, like it was before whatever happened when I asked you to discard me.

SIR
You asked me to discard you? 

APPRENTICE
Sort of, I think, it’s all a bit… fuzzy. A lot was going on. And then we were just. Here. 

SIR
I see. 

APPRENTICE
Good for you. Anyway, the point is, when I looked. I could see the First and Last Place through the cracks, but before, when we were IN the First and Last Place, when I looked  up or out? There were stars and colours and… yeah. I don’t know how to describe it. 

SIR
Right. 

APPRENTICE
Left. Anyway. The point is, I don’t think it’s gone, where we were before, whatever it was. We’re just in a different part of the same place. The place where all the dust goes. 

SIR
And the dust is the remnants. When they are discarded, dust is what they become. 

APPRENTICE
I think so. 

SIR
So we are surrounded by them always, and we have no need to look for them. 

APPRENTICE
No it— it’s like, you discard them and they stop being what they were and you can’t read them anymore, they’re just dust, and the dust it. It’s not anything but sometimes it moves and it thinks and it’s… I don’t know how it works but it’s something. The dust. Sometimes the dust is something. 

SIR
Hmm. I think I understand. 

APPRENTICE
Well, that’s one of us, at least. 

SIR
Perhaps the rosary is still there. Part of the dust on the floor of this tent. 

APPRENTICE
Maybe, yeah.

Though, the tent. That’s weird too, isn’t it? It wasn’t, then it was, and we’ve— did you go out of it, before? 

SIR
When? 

APPRENTICE
I don’t know, when you were… when I was sleeping. 

SIR
I’m not sure either of us were anything. 

APPRENTICE
You’re making my head hurt. Were you outside of the tent? 

SIR
No. 

APPRENTICE
Okay, brilliant. That’s… it’s good. We have something to work with. A bit of sense. 

SIR
This seems positive. 

APPRENTICE
Yeah. So. We should get out of the tent, probably. 

SIR
Okay. Why? 

APPRENTICE
To see where it… don’t you want to see? 

SIR
What? 

APPRENTICE
What’s outside the tent!

SIR
Oh. I suppose. 

APPRENTICE
Great. Good. Okay, let’s… there’s got to be a way to get out of here. Can you see…? 

SIR
No. 

APPRENTICE
Well. Not see. Your eyes are clearly not whatever you’re ‘seeing’ out of. 

SIR
My eyes? 

APPRENTICE
Yes on your… face? You. Sort of. It’s hard to— it doesn’t matter. Anyway. Do you know how to get out of here? 

SIR
No. 

APPRENTICE
Okay, that’s okay. There’s got to be— 

[WALKING PURPOSEFULLY] 

APPRENTICE
There’s got to be a way out, a seam or… aha!

[FABRIC MOVES] 

APPRENTICE
Yes, wonderful just through…. 

Oh. 

SIR
What? 

APPRENTICE
It’s the same… the same tent. 

SIR
Yes. 

APPRENTICE
Why. What? 

SIR
Yes. 

APPRENTICE
Don’t start. 

SIR
Start what? 

APPRENTICE
It doesn’t matter. 

SIR
Does any of this? 

APPRENTICE
Christ, this is exactly what I was asking you not to do!

SIR
Ah. I suppose it doesn’t, then. 

APPRENTICE
No, no. Just. Stop it. 

SIR
Right. Though, I am curious. 

APPRENTICE
About what? 

SIR
These things in the tent. 

APPRENTICE
What things? 

SIR
The cot, where you were lying. The blankets you were wrapped in. The light above our heads. 

APPRENTICE
What about them? 

SIR
They are remnants? 

APPRENTICE
No they’re just— 

Wait. 

[THE APPRENTICE MOVES ACROSS THE ROOM] 

APPRENTICE
It’s a blanket, wool, heavy. A military thing? I don’t… hm. I… Maybe it’s—? 

No. Nothing’s happening. 

SIR
It didn’t happen with the statue, either. Nor the shovels. 

APPRENTICE
No. 

SIR
What does that mean? 

APPRENTICE
I don’t know. Some things are remnants, some aren’t. 

SIR
Ah. 

APPRENTICE
Ah what? 

SIR
How do you tell what things are remnants and what things aren’t? 

APPRENTICE
I don’t, you just— it’s. You know.

SIR
No, I don’t. 

APPRENTICE
You’re such great company. I love that I’m here with you. It’s so delightful. 

SIR
Oh. 

APPRENTICE
Don’t. Okay? So. Tent we can’t get out of. Remnants that disappear. Stuff that’s not remnants. Anything else? 

SIR
The paper burned when I touched it. 

APPRENTICE
Oh yeah. It did, didn’t it? What do you make of that? 

SIR
Fire, apparently. 

APPRENTICE
There were… furnaces. In the other place. The way things were before, or, I guess on the other side of the door. There were furnaces. 

SIR
I see. 

APPRENTICE
In a place you didn’t look. 

SIR
Oh? 

APPRENTICE
Yeah it— it’s all. Kind of. God it’s so hard to think. There were furnaces and I could tell when I was there that you weren’t looking. It wasn’t that you couldn’t it was that you didn’t. 

SIR
How could you tell? 

APPRENTICE
What? 

SIR
That I wasn’t looking. That this was by choice. 

APPRENTICE
Oh. I don’t know. I could just tell. You attention is kind of… loud? 

SIR
Loud?

APPRENTICE
Yeah, but not loud in sound way, loud in a… a feeling kind of way. 

SIR
Hmm. 

APPRENTICE
You got an idea or something? 

SIR
No. 

APPRENTICE
What then? 

SIR
I’m thinking. 

APPRENTICE
That’s good of you. I thought you weren’t a thing that thought. 

SIR
I am a thing that is thinking. 

APPRENTICE
Delighted for you, mate. 

SIR
When you found the door in the dust. Was I looking then? 

APPRENTICE
I… I didn’t notice. 

SIR
Can you hear it now? My loud attention? 

APPRENTICE
Yes. 

SIR
(much quieter)
And now? 

APPRENTICE
Yes. 

SIR
Interesting. 

APPRENTICE
Yeah, fascinating, doesn’t get us out of the tent though. 

SIR
You are often trying to get out of places. 

APPRENTICE
What do you mean? 

SIR
The hole in the dust. The place we are now. The place we were before. All of them were places you wanted to leave.

APPRENTICE
So? 

SIR
It is notable to me.

APPRENTICE
Why? 

SIR
I don’t know. But I am noting it. 

APPRENTICE
Grand. Well, when you know why it seems so important to you, do let me know. Until then, I’m going to keep looking for ways to get… out. 

SIR
What? 

APPRENTICE
Were those here before? 

SIR
What? 

APPRENTICE
The footsteps in the dust on the floor. Were they there before? 

SIR
I don’t know. 

APPRENTICE
What’s the point of having an omniscient— what DO you notice? 

SIR
You are trying to get out. 

APPRENTICE
Anything besides that?!

SIR
Yes. 

APPRENTICE
Ugh, I don’t know why I bother talking to you, I… 

Huh. 

When I move the dust over them, it… you see that? The footprint stays. The dust falls in, but it settles exactly like it was. 

SIR
Yes. 

APPRENTICE
I wonder why? These are bare footprints, they’re almost kind of… oh. 

[WHOOSH]

George draws a line in the cold, wet sand. There is nobody else at the beach. It’s too cold, too late. George wishes he’d brought his coat, or at least his shoes. But he’d run too fast from the house. 

He’d dropped his mother’s teacup. It hadn’t broken; it landed on the pile of laundry. But dad had been angry, anyway. Angry enough to take off his belt. 

But George is fast, even barefoot. He’s learned to be fast. Darted out of the kitchen door, into the garden, down the side of the house, past the bins. It’s too narrow there for dad to fit through. The front door is always locked and the time it takes to open gives George enough time to be out of the garden and half-way down the street before his dad starts to shout after him, and he won’t run. Not out front. Not where the neighbours will see. 

Maybe George shouldn’t have run. Maybe he should have been more careful with his mother’s teacup. His father doesn’t like it when he touches her things. 

He’s a bad boy. Everyone thinks so. He’s got the devil in him. That’s why he can’t sit still at school, why the words get all wriggly when he tries to look at them. Full of of the devil. But it doesn’t matter how much his dad tries, he can’t seem to beat it out of him. And George is so tired and sore. 

And cold. 

George hopes he’ll be asleep when he goes home. If he waits until it’s properly dark, stays on the big, stone steps down to the sand and waits until there’s not even a sliver of light on the horizon. Then dad’ll be asleep. And George can go home and make supper for him and Gloria. 

Dad has never hit Gloria. She’s not got the devil in her. Not like George. 

[WHOOSH]

There are tears at school. Lots of people’s father’s have done the same as George’s. They’ve gone to war. Even though everyone is saying it’ll be finished by Christmas, which isn’t that long away, they’re all so sad about it. 

Maybe other people’s father’s aren’t like George’s father. But of course, he wouldn’t have to be so harsh if George didn’t have the devil in him. 

George feels guilty, but he hopes the war isn’t over until Christmas is gone. His father hates Christmas. He drinks a lot and gets upset about his mother. It’s the only time he talks about her, but George prefers it when he doesn’t because it always makes him angry. 

George hopes the war is long. He hopes by the time it’s over he’s grown up enough to have his own house. He hopes he never sees his father again. 

But of course he hopes that. He’s got the devil in him. 

[WHOOSH]

George is washing his hands under the cold stream of the outdoor tap at the big house at the top of town. He’s been fitting shelves all day; his fingers ache and the cold water is a relief. Car tyres crunch on the nearby drive; a drive George helped to lay. The car is big and beautiful, like the house. The owner climbs out of the driver’s seat, nods at George as he comes around to opened the door for his wife. 

The back door bursts open first. A young woman with a shock of red hair jumps out. ‘Daddy, it’s snowing!’ She gasps. She runs out across the lawn. 

‘Ruby, your coat!’ Her mother calls after her. 

Ruby ignores them, turning under the white flakes slowly falling from the sky. She spins so hard she falls, a giggling heap of red satin and chiffon petticoats. George steps forward, offering his hand to pull her up. 

‘Are you alright, miss?’ 

Ruby’s cheeks are nearly as red as her dress as she allows George to pull her to feet. 

‘Thank you,’ she says. She plants a quick kiss onto George’s cheek. Her lips are warm, but the tip of her nose is cold. 

‘Ruby!’ Her mother scolds. 

Ruby ignores them, laughing as she runs towards the house. Her heeled boots leave glistening prints in the freshly fallen snow. 

[WHOOSH] 

Ruby’s hands caress her stomach. George smooths the tears from her cheeks. 

‘I’m going to look after you,’ George promises. 

Ruby shakes her head. ‘How, George? You’re just a handyman!’

George feels his cheeks flush hot. ‘I want to be an engineer.’ 

Ruby’s expression softens. ‘I know, love. Maybe this will be a good thing. Daddy says I can keep the flat in London but he won’t send any money. But maybe in London, you can find somewhere to apprentice as an engineer, and I can get a job for a few months, before the baby comes.’ 

A sob bubbles past Ruby’s lips. 

‘Shh, it’s alright,’ says George, cradling her to his chest. 

He looks down at Ruby’s hands, still laced over her stomach, covering the tiny life he put inside of her. It frightens him, that life. Right now it’s just a little thing but it’ll grow, and then it’ll be a baby, and then a child. 

‘What if he turns out like me?’ 

Ruby smiles. ‘Then I’d be delighted.’ 

George’s stomach turns. He shakes his head. He thinks of his father and his belt. Beating the devil out of him. 

‘I know you don’t want to be a father,’ Ruby whispers. 

George shakes his head. ‘It’s not about what I want. I want you to be happy.’

’Do you want me to get rid of it?’ 

George pulls back, eyes wide, gripped in horror.  ‘What if something happened to you? My sister’s friend, she— she died.’ 

Ruby squeezes her eyes shut. ‘Daddy knows doctors. Good doctors. They’d take care of me. It wouldn’t be like what happens to some girls.’ 

She doesn’t say it out loud, but George hears what she means anyway. She means girls who are poor. Girls who are from the same side of the train tracks as George. 

‘Is that what you want?’ George whispers. 

Ruby opens her eyes again. Swimming with tears, shot through with red, they’re as beautiful as ever. The red just makes the blue sing louder. 

‘I want to have your baby, George,’ Ruby whispers back. 

The feeling that wells in George’s chest is too big for him to call it joy, too laced with terror, to all consuming. He holds Ruby tight, buries his face in her bright red hair. 

[WHOOSH] 

It’s been weeks since the crash. 

George shouldn’t have let Ruby drive. Her stomach was so big. He should have been driving her. The van hurtling round the corner still would have hit the car but when it did, Ruby would have been the one who woke up with a scratch on her cheek and a graze on her arm, and it would be George lying there, just breathing. 

On the outside, you can hardly tell anything has happened. There’s a few bandages on Roby’s arms. A little sewn-up mark on her cheek, bruises on her forehead. The damage is all inside, the doctor said. 

The cruelest thing is her belly is still swollen, like their baby girl is still inside her. 

She’s not. 

Their daughter was born right there, on the roadside. 

George had laid their little girl on Ruby’s chest, tiny and cold, still blue as she was when the paramedics pulled her out of her mother. The nurses had dressed her in a little gown. They weren’t going to let George hold her at all. They weren’t even going to let Ruby see her. 

‘She’s not with us, love,’ they said. 

‘She’s alive,’ said George. ‘Sometimes she opens her eyes. She should see her, before she’s buried.’ 

Ruby’s parents didn’t let George go with them when the baby was baptised. They named her Theresa, for Ruby’s mother. It doesn’t matter, George supposes. Ruby had been so sure they’d be having a boy. She was going to name him Theodore. 

[WHOOSH] 

‘Oopsie daisy,’ George says as he stops Ruby’s chin from dipping into the water. It’s not deep enough to cover her nose; he’s always careful about that. 

Ruby blinks her wide blue eyes. 

George holds Ruby’s chin as he pours a cup of warm, soapy water over her hair. It’s growing longer again now, long enough to touch her shoulders when she’s sitting up in her chair in the living room. She always wore it long, before the accident, but when George first brought her home from the hospital, it was all full of knots. He wrote to his sister, begging for advice, but she had none, so it had to cut it off. 

George thought it looked had pretty, cropped like that, and made sure to tell Ruby so, but he knew she liked it longer. 

‘Maybe I’ll ask one of the nurses to plait your hair for you tomorrow evening, would you like that?’

Ruby blinks. 

‘I’ll leave it out for when your parents come. Show off all your ringlets. They’re really coiling up now your hairs getting longer. I did tell you your parents are coming tomorrow, didn’t I? They want to talk about sending you away again. But we’re alright as we are, aren’t we? I’ve got the devil in me, but I can do this, can’t I? You want to stay here, at home. Not in some big scary hospital where you don’t know anybody.’ 

Ruby blinks. 

‘I’ve let you down so much already. You’re my wife. In sickness and in health, we said, didn’t we? You’re my wife.’ 

Ruby blinks.

‘I know you don’t like me speaking badly of them. But it feels cruel to tie up your money the way they have. You could have better nurses. A new bed. But they won’t spend a penny without checking everything over. As if I’d want to steal from them. As if I’m not doing everything I can for you already.’

Ruby blinks. 

‘I am, aren’t I?’ George whispers. He swirls his hand through the warm water. The lavender bubble bath has almost run out; he’ll get more from the shop tomorrow before work. It was always Ruby’s favourite. 

‘Well. Anyway. I thought maybe the pink dress would be nice? I know your mother doesn’t think it looks good with your hair, but your hair looks gorgeous with anything, and you always did always like the pink dress; it’s the first one you got with your money from the school, remember? 

‘I forgot to tell you yesterday. I ran into Emily at the shop yesterday. You remember her? She taught some of the younger girls. You went to the theatre with her, just the once, I think. Or maybe you were planning to. I don’t remember. I’m sorry.’ 

Ruby blinks. 

George sighs. He gently smooths Ruby’s cheeks with the soft cotton cloth. ‘Emily was asking how my apprenticeship was going. I didn’t know how to tell her I didn’t have time for that, that I couldn’t work on reduced wages anymore. It’s not much better, money-wise, to be handyman. But it’s more than apprentices get.

‘Anyway. You’re doing better every day. Nurse Jemima said you sat up by yourself for a whole ten minutes this morning.’ 

Ruby blinks. 

‘There’s my girl,’ says George. 

[WHOOSH] 

George opens the door to the house he’s been repairing the last few weeks, holds it wide for Freida to step past him. She peers up at the staircase, bannister covered in drop-cloths to protect it from the dust. 

‘It’s dirty,’ she says, but her eyes are shining when she turns back to face George. 

‘Sorry,’ he says, smiling. 

Freida shrugs. ‘At least you’re not living here.’ 

George laughs. ‘As if a man like me could afford a place like this.’ 

‘What is a man like you?’ There’s something ablaze in Freida’s expression, her dark brown eyes smouldering in the dark. 

George’s heart is beating fast in his chest. Excitement, cut through with waves of guilt. Ruby’s at home, in bed. He would normally be home by now, switching her into her night dress, cleaning up any messes she’s made, singing her to sleep. 

Instead he’s here with Freida. 

They’d just been chatting. It was so nice to chat. Freida was curious about London; couldn’t tell George wasn’t from there. Unlike everyone else in George’s life, she knew nothing about Ruby, about what happened. About what’s wrong with him. 

It was good to have a friend. 

Of course, he’d noticed she was pretty. But she wouldn’t be interested in him. She couldn’t be. Still it would be madness to deny she was gorgeous. Madness to deny he’d noticed. Madness to deny he had started taking off his wedding ring when they met for walks in the park. 

But until tonight he could tell himself he just wanted a friend. 

Now they’re here. In a house that isn’t George’s. His wedding ring is at home in a drawer, next to Ruby’s bed. He’s dressed in his best shirt and trousers. He wore the only pair of underwear he has without any holes. And he’s here. And so is Frieda. And she’s looking at him, eyes on fire, setting twin flames in his that he can feel raging whenever she meets his gaze. 

There’s no denying it now. What he wants. What he’s doing. What is already as good as done. 

His father was right; George has got the devil in him. 

‘What about me?’ says Frieda. 

‘What?’ asks George. 

‘What kind of girl am I?’ she says, stepping closer, closer, until George can feel her breath on his skin. She smells like wine and flowers and furniture polish. 

‘You’re a wild girl,’ says George. 

‘Like a swan,’ says Frieda. Her eyes gleam like jewels in the dark. 

[WHOOSH] 

Freida’s lips are the cover of raw canvas drop sheets, a sheen of sweat on her washed-out cheeks. Her wild hair hangs damp about her face. But she’s smiling. Smiling at George, and the little creature he’s holding in his arms. 

The baby’s small, but not as small as his and Ruby’s girl. 

The baby squirms, fusses. 

‘Give him to me,’ says Gloria. She’s nursing her own daughter, nearly six months old. ‘Me, a wet-nurse. Who’d have thought it?’ 

George sighs. ‘Thank you, Gloria.’ 

Freida is still smiling, her gaze focused on the place where the baby had been in George’s arms. 

‘You did so well,’ George tells her. He finds her hand, squeezes it. She sighs, mutters something in German. George looks for one of Freida’s relatives but they’re all in the other room, cleaning things, ferrying laundry. 

‘I should take him somewhere quiet,’ says Gloria, looking at the baby. ‘It’s good to start them off right. You want to teach them right from the start to be good sleepers,’ says Gloria. 

George nods. He looks at Freida. Her eyes have fluttered closed. 

When Gloria is gone, the little room where Freida lies feels even smaller. The sounds of motion downstairs feel far away. They deepen the quiet, somehow. 

George sits. He thinks about Ruby, about their baby girl. About the little creature he’s just sent off with Gloria. 

Freida looks so small on the bed. 

It’s George’s fault this has happened. He has the devil in him. He’s put the devil in Freida too, and it’s eaten her up from the inside. 

He’ll send the baby home to Wales, with Gloria. She’s promised to keep him away from their father. He can’t take care of a baby as well as Ruby, and the crying would probably disturb her. It’s best to keep something so small and precious as far away from George as possible. Far, far away. 

[WHOOSH] 

The boy stands by the fireplace, his arms tucked neatly behind his back, looking at George’s only photograph of Freida, crammed between dozens of him and Ruby. George wonders how he knows this is his mother. He has her eyes; maybe he recognises them in her. 

‘Teddy,’ says George.  ‘Won’t you sit down?’  Teddy looks at the floor. ‘No thanks.’

It’s funny, George thinks. Gloria says the boy is trouble, but he’s never trouble with George. She’s done a good job with him. Better than George could have done. 

He wishes Gloria hadn’t told him about the boy’s latest escapades. This is supposed to be a quick goodbye, that’s all. 

‘You aunt says you’re a brat. ‘

The boy blushes. ‘They said my mother was a Jerry. That’s why I bit them.’ 

‘Teddy. She was. You know that.’ 

The boy’s expression darkens. His hands fall to his sides, clenched in fists. ‘Not like they meant it.’ 

George is suddenly exhausted. He lights a cigarette. ‘Your mother was a German and Jew.’

‘Get fucked,’ says the boy.

George has to fight to stifle a laugh. Such language, from such a little, pretty boy. ‘How old are you now, Teddy? Seven? Eight?’ 

‘I’ll be six next birthday.’ 

‘You’ve a very colourful vocabulary for an uneducated five-year-old brat, Teddy. You need to behave, do you hear me?’ 

‘I hear you,’ says the boy.

‘Very good,’ says George.‘I asked you here to get a good look at you before I go away.’

‘Away where?’ 

Now he has to tell him that he’s leaving. That he isn’t going to come back, not if he can help it. It’s better this way, George knows. Ruby is gone and the boy is better off without him. 

‘There’s a war on,’ says George, because he doesn’t know what else to. 

‘Germany, then?’ says the boy.

It would be easier if the boy was stupid, like George, instead of clever like his mother had been. ‘I’ll go where I am needed. You be proud of her, understand me? She was German and a Jew. You know that. Be proud.’ 

The boy stands up as tall as he can, like he’s trying to look like a threat. ‘Yes, father,’ he says. 

George nods. It will be better this way. The boy already has too much of George in him. If he stays, it’s just more chance to let that get larger. 

He’ll be alright. Ruby’s parents put her trust in his name, when she passed. They wouldn’t let George have a penny, of course, but that’s alright. He didn’t deserve it. He’s got the devil in him.

[WHOOSH] 

The sound of gunfire is scarred into George’s ears, so he doesn’t realise they’re being shot at until a bullet sails through the boxes he’s been sat behind, sending a spray of splinters into the air. Kyle, who he’s been playing cards with, looks up in horror. His gun is on the ground. He’ll have to duck out of their cover to reach it. 

George’s gun is in his lap. He picks it up, leans over the crate, fires at the approaching soldiers. In the distance, he can hear the roar of a tank’s engines, the crunch of its treads on the ground. 

They’re going to die if they stay where they are. 

George thinks as fast as he can. Everyone else was in the old church. George and Kyle had gone out to have a bit of a breather from their constant banter. Kyle’s young, half George’s age.  If he runs out of their cover, maybe he can draw the soldiers off in another direction. Give Kyle time to get back inside the church. He passes Kyle his gun. 

‘What are you doing?!’ says Kyle. 

‘Saving you,’ says George. ‘Get back in the church. I’ll draw them off.’ 

Before Kyle can say anything else, George bolts out from behind the crates.He hears bullets hitting the ground behind him. He doesn’t know where he’s running. But everything feels certain, all at once. He’s going to die, and he feels good about it. 

When a bullet finally strikes him, it doesn’t hurt, not exactly. The impact is like being shoved hard in the side of his chest. He goes down at once. He remembers tripping up in the schoolyard as a child, the gritty paving stones skinning the heels of his hands. 

There’s blood in George’s mouth. It tastes like old coins. 

When he turns his head, he sees the prints of his own boots in the dirt. 

[WHOOSH] 

APPRENTICE
Argh, ugh. 

SIR
Are you alright. 

APPRENTICE
I felt it— I feel it. The bullet— in my gut, it. God it hurts. 

SIR
Let me help you. 

APPRENTICE
I can’t, he wouldn’t, I— 

SIR
I will help you. 

APPRENTICE
Alright, alright. 

[END]