Refuge

But music and singing

Have been my refuge,

And music and singing

Shall be my light.

-Frank Ticheli; Earth Song

ACT 1 SCENE 1

Jess woke to the sound of silence. The hum of it pressed against her ears. Rolling over on the naked mattress, she sat crouched in a darkness black as pitch, eyes staring forward like a blind man. Her hands patted the dirty floor in search of the matches and the brass candelabra that held her wax candle, which would be next to the mattress, on the floor, where she always kept them. Once recovered, she struck the match against the box, the flame licking up in surprise and illuminating the dark room around her. Black velvet curtains gray with dust covered the walls of the small space, and she skirted past them, climbing down a steel ladder, carefully holding the candlestick aloft.

She walked past the rope pulleys and stage rigging wall, past the dressing rooms, and out into the corridor. Here she blew out the candle and set it by the backstage door. Her bare feet were blackened with dust and grime, and she could barely hear her own feet as she padded along the linoleum floor toward the concessions closet. After taking a small bite of a granola bar, and a sip of warm blue Gatorade, she proceeded back down the hallway and into her favorite room: the dance hall.

Sunlight filtered into the room through a panel of windows lining the eastern wall, reflected in a golden haze in the surrounding mirrors. Jess extended her arm, watching as the sun turned the hairs on her skin a translucent white. The warmth of the sunlight was intoxicating, and she closed her eyes, spinning, jumping, dancing to the rhythm of her own body on the waxed floors, in rhythm with her breath. But she didn’t hear her own feet, she hardly heard her own breath. In her mind she heard Beethoven, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, and she danced to the music of her memory. She began to waltz, touching her arms, her waist, her hand, and an imaginary partner held her, lead her, as they twirled about the room, her eyes closed and a grin on her face. Suddenly she stopped, looking around the room, eyes open. She was alone. It was only the sun on her skin that had touched her.

When she was done, she trailed out of the room and retrieved her candle and matches, making her way back into the greenroom backstage. She approached the wall calendar with weariness—it was the worst part of each day, but one she knew deep down, was necessary—and scratched a mark through yesterday’s white square. With a start she saw the day’s date: May 19th. Her birthday. She stared dumbly at the paper before her. Then she smiled.

Throwing open the doors to the costume room, she took extra care selecting the day’s wardrobe. Her fingers traced over glittery golden mesh, purple velvet, and pale pink tulle, before finding a glorious Renaissance gown—silver and pale blue—and a matching headpiece. Perfect. She retreated to the dressing rooms where she donned the gown and sifted through boxes of crusted makeup which she applied methodically by candlelight. Staring at herself in the mirror, Jess was satisfied, pleased. Except for one thing.

She marched down the corridor to the concession room, the length of her gown floating in a cloud of silver behind, where she retrieved a Twinkie from the top shelf and brought it back to the greenroom, where she sat, in her Renaissance splendor, her treat before her. Pressing her eyes shut, she made a wish. And she wished with all her heart. Then she devoured the Twinkie.

The stage was bare except for a line of candles spread into a half-moon arc at the front of the stage. Jess dragged a few boxes center stage. Pausing, she looked out across the blackened theater, the first row of red leather seats just visible. She took a deep breath. She turned, and saw him, lying still across the boxes.

“What’s here?” Jess’s voice cracked as she moved towards his body. ‘A cup closed in my true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.’ Tears began to fall from her eyes as she caressed his hand. “O churl, drunk all, left no friendly drop To help me after!’ The cup clattered to the floor. ‘I will kiss thy lips. Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restorative.’ Jess leaned over his body, kissing him, her tears salty on her mouth. ‘Thy lips are warm!’

With a shock of sound and light, Jess was suddenly illuminated by a spotlight. She froze, peering out towards the audience, blinded by the beam of light coming from the exit doors at the back of the house. It was no spotlight after all; the doors to the theatre had been thrown—kicked—open, and a large figure loomed, silhouetted, by the sunlight behind them.

‘Hello?’ Jess said with a whisper.

The figure made its way down the aisle stairs, and as they approached, Jess could see it was a woman, a long gun of some kind in one hand a high beam flashlight in the other. She stopped at the foot of the stage. Jess flinched and clutched her heart.

‘Is…is it over?’ Jess said.

The woman gave her a strange look. She seemed to be taking in the whole scene, the candles, the costume, Jess. ‘No,’ she said slowly. Her voice was deep, ragged.

Jess pointed at her, the lace fringe on her sleeve quivering. ‘But you’re military.’

The woman paused and looked down at her combat fatigues and shrugged. ‘They’re not mine.’ And then, ‘Are you alone?’

Jess flinched again, the weight of the danger she was in suddenly dropping in her stomach.

‘Hey,’ the woman said. ‘I’m friendly. I’m not going to hurt you or steal your shit.’

Jess nodded, looking at the door behind the woman.

The woman followed Jess’s eyes and said, ‘I’m alone. And I can board that back up for you. Sorry.’

Jess nodded again. ‘I’m Jess.’

The woman smiled formally. ‘Nadine.’ She paused, as if recognizing the gravity of this moment, and then extended her hand. 

Jess crossed to her, took Nadine’s hand in her own, and shook it.

ACT 1 SCENE 2

Jess threw open the doors to the library. The skylight above revealed a small cranny of a room, lined on either side with thin and sagging shelves. It smelled of dust and old paper.

‘My treasure trove,’ Jess said. ‘I have everyone here. Shakespeare. Chekov. Williams. Wilde. Sophocles! Caryl Churchill and Aphra Behn.’ Her fingers moved over the spines of various books, plays, librettos, and anthologies. She took a play off the shelf, showing it off to Nadine.

Nadine looked around her. ‘Hey, at least you haven’t been bored,’ she said flatly. ‘Well, I might have.’

Jess gasped. ‘How could you possibly?’

‘Uh. I never really liked theatre shows that much. Before. They always felt so phony to me.’ Nadine turned in time to see Jess’s face fall. ‘Sorry.’

Jess tossed her head back, ruffled. ‘No, I mean, to each their own… But theatre is the most important way we’ve created to understand each other, the human experience. Stella Adler once said that theatre shows people the truth about life. It helps us sort out the past, the future—"

“I don’t know that a play could sort out all that’s going on outside. I don’t think anyone can.”

Jess was quiet. She delicately shelved the play she had taken, reverent.

ACT 1 SCENE 3

‘This is where I dance,’ Jess said. ‘At first, I thought I would have to board this room up because of the windows. But I just couldn’t. It’s too perfect.’ She spun around, eyes lit up with warmth. ‘You know,’ she said, extending a slender leg, ‘I used to dance. I wasn’t the best, but it was my favorite thing in the whole world.’

A soft smile played on Nadine’s lips. ‘This is cool,’ she said, looking around the room. ‘You can get your exercise in.’

Jess dropped her graceful posture, deflated. ‘Of course, it would be better if I had music. But that can’t be helped. I do miss it, though. More than anything else from before.’

‘More than your family? Your friends?’

‘I’ve always felt more connected to humanity through art than with actual people. Is that bad?’ Jess had a faraway look in her eyes, as if imagining some world, far from here, of her own making. Then her eyes snapped to Nadine’s.

‘Let’s dance.’

Nadine cracked a smile. ‘Me? No. I don’t dance. I mean, I don’t know how.’

‘I’ll show you.’

Jess took Nadine’s hand and pulled her into the middle of the room. ‘I’ll lead. Here.’ She showed Nadine where to place her hands, correcting her posture and the stiffness of her arms. Next, her feet. One, two, three. One, two, three. Then they began to waltz, slowly at first, a bit clumsily to start. Then Nadine started to get the hang of it. Jess dropped her head back, lost in a reverie, smiling in bliss. She began to lead Nadine faster and faster, circling around the room at a whiplash pace. Nadine was struggling to keep up, and she was heavy, still in her gear. As they finished one circle and Jess led them into the next, Nadine’s booted foot came crashing down on Jess’s bare toes.

‘OW!’ Jess cried, and she crumpled, cradling her foot.

‘Shit! Sorry.’ Nadine crouched next to Jess, trying to see the damage.

Pushing Nadine’s hands away, Jess said with fury, ‘That’s not how it’s supposed to go. I showed you the steps.’

Nadine stood slowly and took a step back. ‘I’m sorry.’

Jess sighed, defeated and suddenly tired. ‘It’s not you,’ she lied. ‘We don’t have music to keep tempo.’ She rubbed her foot and stood. Her face lit up as she seemed to remember something. ‘In memory, everything seems to happen to music.’ Jess laughed to herself. ‘Do you like soup?’

And Jess turned on a heel and left the room, Nadine watching her go.

ACT 2 SCENE 1

Jess was curled up on her mattress, the blankets overflowing all around her, reading by candlelight, when she heard the clank of the steel ladder behind her head. Nadine appeared, flashlight in hand, looking around.

‘Sorry to disturb you. I couldn’t sleep.’ Nadine shut off her light, it was too bright, too harsh for this sacred space. Nadine had made her bed near the exit door that night. She had said she preferred to know as soon as possible if someone was trying to break in.

‘I saw your light from the back of the theatre. I didn’t know there was a nook up here.’

Jess motioned for her to sit. ‘They use this space if a show requires two levels, for actors to enter and exit.’

Nadine sat with her back against a velvet curtained wall. ‘What are you reading?’

Jess held up her book: The Tempest. William Shakespeare. The spine was white and crumbling with use.

Nodding, Nadine said, ‘Ah.’ She didn’t know much about it.

‘I think you’d like this one. It’s a play about a duke whose throne was usurped by his brother, so he flees with his daughter, and they end up far away on a deserted island where he plots his revenge. And there are a bunch of other characters that show up and… Well, there’s adventure and misunderstandings and magic and redemption. All the good stuff. Shakespeare stuff.’

‘It sounds interesting,’ Nadine said graciously.

They sat for a few moments, listening to the silence occasionally interrupted by the sputtering of the candle.

‘So, where are you from?’ Jess asked, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders. ‘Like, before. Were you from around here?’

‘No… Um, I’m from California. I was there when it all started.’

Jess’s mouth dropped open. ‘Wow. How did you get here?’

‘Walked.’

‘But that’s really far.’

Nadine smiled wearily, ‘I know.’

‘How did you know where you were going? Do you have a plan?’

‘No. Like I said, I just walked. I just kept on walking. I figure we should head out pretty soon, though. Maybe north.  I heard it wasn’t that bad up north. I mean, who knows now, but—’

‘Wait. Hold on. We?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m not going out there.’

‘What?’ Nadine looked around her with thinly veiled disgust. ‘You want to stay here?’

‘Where else?!’

Nadine leaned forward. ‘You don’t seem to understand. You’re the only living person I’ve seen in months. But I found you. And if I found you, then there must be others. If we can find them—'

‘I don’t want to find anyone! You don’t understand. I’m…happy.’

Nadine looked horrified. ‘You’re happy?!’

‘All things considered. Yes,’ Jess said dryly, defensively.

Nadine leaned back, considering her.

Jess pressed on. ‘I know how it must sound, but it seems…right…that I’m alone like this. I’ve never had many friends. Was never very good to the few I did have. At first it was scary. Terrifying—when it all started happening. But when I had the idea to come here, and found it—empty, forgotten—I began to realize my purpose. I’m here to protect this place. To preserve the arts.’ Jess’s eyes glowed in the fire of the candlelight. ‘By reading their words it’s like I’m keeping humanity alive. And in a weird way, by saying their words, I’m making up for all the shit I put other people through. They always know the right things to say…in plays…”

‘Jess,’ Nadine began carefully. ‘I don’t think anyone deserved what happened, no matter how shitty they were before. I don’t think you should have to live your life like this,’ she said, gesturing around. ‘I don’t think anyone deserves to die alone or in pain or—” She stopped herself, swallowing some emotion. ‘None of this is right.’

‘I’m just saying, I think this is the best I can do.’ And I’m not going to leave.

‘What will you do when you run out of food?’ Nadine asked matter-of-factly.

Jess was quiet; she had tried not to think about that.

Nadine pushed harder, sensing a weakness. ‘What will you do when you run out of water and Gatorade? When you hurt yourself or get sick? Who will help you?’

Jess furiously brushed tears from her eyes. ‘I—’

‘Everyone is gone. What the fuck is art for if there is no one around to enjoy it? What if there is no one left to preserve it for?’

The silence that followed was louder than ever in the wake of Nadine’s anger.

‘You could stay.’ Jess said, a whisper on the air. ‘We could live here together. You could scavenge in town if we need things.’ She began speaking faster, gaining confidence with this idea. ‘I mean you said you haven’t seen anyone in months…it doesn’t seem likely that we’d even find anyone else anyway, so we might as well stay here. Where its safe.’

Nadine paused, looking at Jess, her pale skin and gaunt cheeks. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘We leave. We look for answers. For resources. For others. If we stop looking…it’s giving up. I can help you. I’ve made it this far. I don’t want to be alone anymore.’

Jess smiled softly. ‘You won’t be alone if you stay.’

ACT 2 SCENE 2

Jess woke to the sound of silence. She lit her candle, clambered down the ladder, and made her way to Nadine’s makeshift bed, stopping when she reached the door. There was no sign of Nadine. No backpack, no gun, no bedroll. The door appeared to be sealed again. In confusion, she retreated down the aisle stairs, across the stage, her candle casting large dancing shadows on the bare auditorium walls. She passed the rope pulleys and the dressing rooms, the library nook, and entered the corridor. Still no sign of Nadine. 

Jess began to make her way down the hallway, when suddenly her ears pricked up in alarm at a strange whining sound. She froze. The sound was coming from the dance hall.

Heartbeat in her ears, she slowly approached the room, expecting to see Nadine fixing something, perhaps. Coming into the room, she found it empty, save for a small object in the middle of the floor. The whining sound was louder now, foreign sounding, high and languid with a heart-wrenching vibrato. 

Jess approached cautiously and saw a tiny stereo system with a media player plugged in on top, and a solar-powered battery lying on the floor next to it, bathed in sunlight from the windows. Scrawled on a wrinkled, torn piece of paper was a note.

To doing the best we can. I’m heading north up I-35. Walking. Will stop at the state line for 2 days. -Nadine

Jess turned the dial up on the speaker. The violin climbed a crescendo. She tilted her face upwards, feeling the warmth of the sun and the cool of her tears against her cheeks.

And she began to dance.