© 2018 by Max Allan Collins
Library e-Book : 978-1-5385-1803-8
Trade e-Book : 978-1-5385-1804-5
This digital document has been produced by Nord Compo.
CHARACTERS (in order of appearance):
MERCY – eighteen. Vixen who gets religion, not in a good way.
ROD – captain of the football team who makes a bad decision.
NURSE – walk on.
PASTOR STRICKLAND – sixty-ish, apparently well- meaning, but extreme Fundamentalist views
CINDI – initially unpleasant classmate of Mercy’s; girl friend of late Rod, blames Mercy for his death
RANDY JOHNSON – self-styled retro j.d.
DAN DICKEY – philandering guidance counselor, late twenties.
PETER BISHOP – spoiled rich kid, eighteen. Brief.
OSCAR PIKE – nerd computer guru, eighteen.
MUSIC:
FANGORIA THEME
ANNOUNCER:
You can run but you can’t hide. It’s far too late for that. Welcome to the dark side, where the night never ends – as Fangoria presents. . .Dreadtime Stories. With your host, Malcolm McDowell. Tonight’s Dreadtime Story: “Mercy” by Max Allan Collins.
SOUND:
The happy sounds of high school kids at a kegger-type party. Drunken laughter, girls and boys. Beer pouring. Generic rock or hip-hop music.
MERCY:
(a little drunk) Listen, Rod – you round up as many of the guys on the team as you can. . .first-string only. . .I’m no slut! And pile into my van. We’ll go out to the Hollow and I’ll. . .take one for the team. . .
ROD:
Mercy, you can’t mean this. I mean, I heard you were kinda wild, but –
MERCY:
Sounds like a good time, doesn’t it? You don’t think I can handle it? Try me!
ROD:
Okay, okay, I’ll call your bluff.
MERCY:
I don’t bluff. Remember that when we play strip poker.
ROD:
. . .I’ll round up the guys. . . (off mic). . .Meet you out front in five. . .
MERCY:
(to herself) Touchdown.
NARRATOR:
Mercy Mathers had, once upon a time, been a good little girl. As a child, she had platinum blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, a perfect pale complexion, and a smile that would melt the heart of a misanthrope. But after her mother and father died in a plane crash, when she was just thirteen, Mercy had gone to live with her wealthy, elderly grandmother. Grandma provided Mercy with two things: everything she wanted, and no supervision. And when puberty came calling, the good little girl grew up and out and every which fetching way, the most beautiful perfect blonde any red-blooded boy or man might dream of. The kind of young woman who seemed utterly unattainable. But the thing was. . .Mercy was attainable. Very attainable. She loved attention, she loved to party, and the worst kept secret at Clarion High was that everybody’s favorite cheerleader, the prom queen, the girl most likely to succeed, was in particular the favorite of any number of boys. She’d never gone steady, Mercy, because she liked variety. She liked fun. The good little girl quite liked being bad.
SOUND:
Party sounds muffled. Outdoor ambience. Guys talking, laughing, excited, drawing closer to the camera.
ROD:
Okay, Mercy. We’re game if you are.
SOUND:
Guys hooting, hollering in agreement. Ad lib, “Oh yeah,” “Game on!”, etc.
MERCY:
(drunker) I was born game. You boys may be conference champs, but I am gonna rule your asses. You are mine!
SOUND:
More whistling, hooting, ad- libbing, “Bring it!”, “It’s on,” etc.
MERCY:
Save your energy. You’re gonna need it. Get in.
SOUND:
Van door opens. Sound of guys piling into van. More male boasting, adlibs.
MERCY:
This is gonna be the best homecoming ever.
ROD:
Hey, Merce. You better let me drive. You’re a couple sheets to the wind, sweet-cheeks.
MERCY:
Rod, I am doin’ all the driving tonight. Otherwise, you and your jock pals can find some other way to end a perfect evening.
ROD:
Okay, but take it easy. Lot of cops out tonight, looking for party animals. A DUI wouldn’t look cool on your permanent record.
MERCY:
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get in and buckle up.
ROD:
(off-mic) Oh-kay. . .
NARRATOR:
The Hollow was everybody’s favorite make-out spot, but it took any number of back roads to get there.
SOUND:
Vehicle traveling fast, making a fast turn on gravel.
ROD:
Merce! Take it easy.
MERCY:
Don’t be a pussy. . .
NARRATOR:
Mercy would have been fine if she hadn’t passed a slow-moving vehicle. . .
MERCY:
Get outa my way, farmer!
SOUND:
Gunning vehicle.
NARRATOR:
. . .on that hill.
ROD:
Mercy!
SOUND:
The worst car crash ever heard. Tearing metal, screaming (young) passengers.
ANNOUNCER:
Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories will continue in a moment.
ANNOUNCER:
Now back to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories, and “Mercy.”
SOUNDS:
Hospital hallway sounds.
NURSE:
Pastor, she’s just woken up. She’s heavily medicated, and dazed, so please. . .be gentle when you talk to her.
PASTOR:
I’m here as much as a family friend as in my official capacity. Her late father was on the church board. What does she know?
NURSE:
Nothing. Not about her friends, or her grandmother, either. If she gets upset, ring me. And don’t talk with her long. . .
SOUND:
Door opens, closes. Hospital
MERCY:
sounds muffled now, then fade away. Footsteps. (weak, even groggy) Pastor Strickland. . .is that you? Pastor, the last I remember. . .
PASTOR:
Take it easy, young lady.
SOUND:
Chair pulled up. Sits.
PASTOR:
We’re just going to sit here like old friends and take our time with this. Give me your hand, child.
MERCY:
My friends. . .Rod. . .the others?
PASTOR:
They’re with the Lord. At least I hope they are.
MERCY:
Hope they are?
PASTOR:
If they were right with God.
MERCY:
And if not?
PASTOR:
(soothing) Then I’m afraid they’re burning in Hell, dear.
MERCY:
(alert, alarmed) They’re dead? They’re all dead? And I’m alive. . .
PASTOR:
(mildly amused) Well, this isn’t heaven, child. It’s just Iowa. You’re going to be fine. That air bag saved you. But all the passengers. . .and the driver of that combine you hit. . .well, we’ll pray they were right with God.
MERCY:
My Grandmother. Where is she? Has she been here?
PASTOR:
Now, you don’t have to worry about your grandmother.
MERCY:
Good. Good. She won’t judge me. Everybody will, but she won’t. . .
PASTOR:
I won’t lie to you, child. She was concerned when she heard. You know, you’ve been unconscious for a week.
MERCY:
Call her, would you, Pastor? Tell her I’m okay. That I’m not in a coma or anything.
PASTOR:
I’m sure she knows, dear, where she is.
MERCY:
Why? Where is she?
PASTOR:
She’s left this vale of tears, God be praised.
MERCY:
What?
PASTOR:
(gentle) She had
