The End in One Act

Act One

One lane cobblestone street running north and south, this night about 2:00 A.M. A sidewalk and store fronts on one side of the street providing dim light onto the street, two-story red brick wall without windows and with locked windowless doors to access the rear of shops on the other side of the street.

MAKEDA, late teens to early twenties female, wearing chucks, a grayish hoody and blue jeans, is sprawled supine on the road feet toward the sidewalk, unconscious.

              GUY, an undercover cop, wearing black tactical side-zip boots, jeans, a department t-shirt, an open leather jacket concealing his badge and weapon, approaches from the south.

              ABRAM, a tall muscular handsome male, wearing chucks, blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a brown leather jacket, unzipped.

GUY

By the dim light glowing from shop windows, he sees a body lying in the street about halfway down the block. He surveys the area to ensure scene safety. He cautiously continues his approach.

GUY

Talking to himself.

No vomitus; probably not sickly drunk. Her clothes? Dry; she didn’t wet herself. A good sign. She looks clean, not the usual homeless look. Clothes well-kept, not torn. No obvious contusions, abrasions or bleeding, apparently no kind of fight. Eyes closed, chest moving; okay, she’s not dead.

              Guy kicks the bottom of her left foot to try to get a reaction.

GUY

Talking to himself.

What the heck is going on here? I better get some help.

Wait a minute. Where’s my radio? Where’s my cell phone? Dammit, I must have left them both on the kitchen table.

              Makeda speaks without moving.

              Makeda

You just going to stand there looking like you lost something important? What time is it? How about helping me up?

              Guy

Wait a minute, Ma’am. It’s 2 in the morning. I don’t know what happened to you. You may have a broken neck or a concussion.

              Makeda

Nah. I can move my extremities. I can speak; my respiration is unimpeded and normal. Neck’s good. Concussion? Maybe, but all functions seem good from this side of my eyeballs.

              GUY

Talking to himself.

Extremities? Respiration? Unimpeded? Not your average dropout vocabulary.

              Guy

Who are you? Where do you go to school? How old are you? What are you doing lying in the middle of a side street at two in the morning?

              Makeda

First, who are you?  Why are you hovering over me? Did you knock me down? What are you doing here at 2 A.M.?

              Guy

Yeah, sorry. I’m Detective Guy Gutierrez of the TPD. Here’s my badge. I’m not hovering over you. I was just checking to see what the heck is the matter with you. I live a couple of blocks north of here and when I can’t sleep, I walk around.  I did not knock you down.  I found you lying just like you are and was hoping for a date, hah, hah.

              Makeda

Hah, hah back. My name is Makeda and, before you keep dreaming, I’m seventeen. I was emancipated last year and live in an apartment about four blocks south of here. I attend the University, thus, the vocabulary you so loudly asked yourself about.

You know Joe’s Deli over on Sixth? It’s about six blocks east of my place.

              Guy

Yeah, I go there two or three times a week. Surprised we haven’t seen each other before.

              Makeda

Why do you say that? You don’t know how often I go there or when I go. Anyway, I left the deli about 9:30 and headed home. I heard some loud pops after I got about halfway home. It kind of sounded like the pops were coming from the direction of the deli. I don’t really know. 

That’s one of the odd things about this. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know how I got here; it’s out of my way. I have no idea why I am lying in the middle of this road; I’ve never done that before. I have no idea why I was unconscious for what may have been over four hours. I don’t drink and I don’t ingest, inhale or inject any chemicals. I am not on any medication except an occasional Midol and it’s not that time of the month.

So, are you going to help me up?

              Guy

Sure, give me just a second. I am going to walk around you to check for anything odd like something sticking out of you that shouldn’t be. Last year I watched a guy walk around talking a mile a minute with a knife sticking out of his back. Let me just make sure….

Okay, how do you want me to help?

              Makeda

Put your feet on either side of me, bend over with your hands on your knees and let me put my hands around your neck and you can straighten out as you step backwards. I’ll just pull myself up as you step back.

              Guy

Whoa, girl. That’s very risky on my part.

              Makeda

It could be if I was a bad girl. I am not a bad girl, so you’re safe.

              Guy

Okay. But I’ll sure feel stupid if this goes sour….

              Makeda

There, see? No damage to you and no knife sticking out of my back.

              Guy

Yeah, but I would feel a lot better if we could get some assistance here. I must have left my radio and cell at home.

              Makeda

It’s okay. If it will make you feel better, I’ll let you walk me to my apartment complex. It’s straight south.

              Guy

Alright, that’ll do if you’ll let me somehow check on you around noon.

              Makeda

We’ll work it out. Ready? Let’s go.

About fifteen feet ahead of them, Abram strides around the corner they are approaching.

              Abram

Makeda, what are you doing here? Who is this guy?

              Makeda steps back and behind Guy.

              Makeda

Guy, I don’t know this entity. 

              Guy

Whoa, mister, stop right there! Who are you? What are you doing?

              Abram

Oh, I alarmed you; I apologize. My name is Abram, and I am Makeda’s guardian. Who are you?

              Guy

Here’s my badge. I’m Detective Guy Gutierrez of the TPD. She says she doesn’t know you. Do you have ID?

              Abram

Of course, in my back pocket. I’ll just reach….

              Guy

Whoa, stop! Do not make me pull my weapon. Turn facing away from me with your hands out to your sides. Now, which pocket?

              Abram

Right.

              Guy

Reach into your pocket with two fingers and pull out your wallet.

              Abram

Okay, here it is.

              Guy

Turn back around and face me. Take your ID out of the wallet and hold it up so I can see it. Hold it so the street light shines on it.

              Abram

Here it is. Can you see it okay? Should I move closer?

              Guy

I can see it. Do not move any closer.

Wait, what are you trying to pull here? That can’t be you. What state issued that license?

              Abram

Well, first it is me. Second, it’s not from one of the United States. You see I am not a citizen from here. Neither is Makeda. That is why it is so important that she and I head home.

              Guy

Sir, until I know who you are, who Makeda really is and where she lives and how she got here and if she is alright and is going to be alright, no one is going to take Makeda anywhere. We can go to my apartment, get my car and go to my office. You, Sir, can follow us and meet us at my office over at Broadway and Stone.

              Abram

Makeda, shall we tell him now? He is an extraordinarily good man.

              Makeda

His time is nearing. We should help him.

              Guy

Whoa, you two! Makeda, you said you didn’t know this man. Was that a lie?

              Makeda

Guy, I can’t, and I don’t lie. I said I didn’t know this entity. And, at the time, I did not instantly recognize him. When he showed you his ID, I recognized who he is. It is true, he is my guardian.

              Guy

What are you two? Demons, angels, aliens? Nuts? And what do you need to tell me?

              Abram

I don’t think we’re nuts. Makeda?

              Makeda

I don’t think we’re nuts either. We do some nutty things sometimes.

              Abram

I think it’s time we tell him. He’s ready.

              Guy

Tell me what? Don’t be coy. And, Makeda, you go stand by him.

              Abram

Guy, remember Makeda’s story about hearing pops? Didn’t that stir a memory or a thought in you?

              Guy

Yeah, now that you mention it. Being in the same general area, I probably heard them.

              Abram

Agreed. But do you remember how you got here to find Makeda? Which direction did you come from?

              Guy

I was out walking. I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk. Now that you ask, I don’t remember which direction I came from. My apartment is north of here, so, I assume I came from that direction. I must have left my phone and radio in my apartment. 

              Abram

Now, does that make sense? When have you ever left your phone and radio at home when you go out on your night walks?

Let me set up another scenario. Let’s say that you heard the same pops Makeda did and that they were gunshots. Can you buy into that?

              Guy

Yeah, that can make sense.

              Abram

Good. Let’s take it a step further and let’s say about half those gunshots came from your service weapon. No, no, don’t interrupt. This is important. 

You’re a good shot; I know that. One of your fears has been that someday you would meet a bad guy who would be just a tad better than you and he would shoot you.

Now, tonight you could not sleep so you got up and walked over to Joe’s Deli. This time, instead of getting your pastrami sandwich, you looked in and saw a bad guy pointing a gun at Joe. You pulled your weapon, stepped in and shouted your usual mantra. The bad guy turned and shot you from ten feet away. You both got three rounds off.

Like I said, you’re a good shot. He was a lucky shooter.  Your three shots were all center mass. Not immediately deadly, but eventually he succumbed. On the other hand, his first two rounds missed you entirely. His third round was lucky; it was a head shot.

You died right there doing a good deed saving your friend Joe’s life.

Questions?

              Guy

That’s nuts! I’m standing right here with my weapon on my hip listening to your gibberish. I stop to help someone unconscious on the street and this is what I get?  Craziness? Makeda, what’s going on?

              Makeda

Interestingly, Abram’s story is absolutely accurate. You saved Joe’s life. You got shot at about 2137 hours and you were pronounced at about 2203 hours. Military time just to make this a bit more familiar. You’ve been wandering around lost for about four hours.

              Guy

If that’s all true, how did I end up here trying to help you? This is nuts!

              Abram

Contrary to popular belief, our kind is not omniscient. We couldn’t find you, so we set a trap. We knew you couldn’t go far and that you would stay somewhere close to familiar ground. That’s why we chose this street. 

You’re drawn to people in distress. It’s your nature to help people. We knew if Makeda appeared in some kind of distress, you would be drawn to her and try to help her.

That’s because you’re a good guy.

              Guy

I don’t believe you and I don’t like this.

Does this mean you guys are some kind of demon or angel or what?

              Makeda

I don’t know what you would call us. Your popular culture refers to our kind as angels of death. I’m not sure that that’s really accurate, but it’ll do for now.

              Guy

So, does this mean I’m going somewhere nasty? I don’t see any bright light or holy staircase.

              Abram

I don’t know exactly what you’d call it. I can tell you that many of your loved ones, family and friends are there and they like it. And, Bullet, your combat K-9, is there.

The bright light, the holy staircase, that’s all individual. You get to go with us, and we’ll take you there.

If you have any doubts, any doubts at all, pull your weapon and shoot me. I can assure you nothing will happen to me.

No? Then, let’s go. Makeda will hold your hand and I’ll lead. You truly are a good man.