#s10m3

~

[water swirls]

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: “In the glare of the day, there is little poetry about Venice. But under the charitable moon, her stained palaces are white again.” I see now that Mark Twain was quite correct. A moonlit gondola ride across the Venice Lagoon has always been a dream of mine. My wife and I booked tickets only two months before the gray apocalypse. We never took that trip.

FRANCES DEMPSY: [gasps] Quinzi, stop rowing! I can hear a patrol boat.

[boat motor rumbles]

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: I believe we remain unobserved. Quinzi, you may resume your labor at the oar. We’re close now. I see the [?] of the Grand Canal.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: We got through because they’re looking in, not out. They’re only worried about stopping people leaving. They don’t think anyone would be mental enough to try to sneak into a plague city.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Indeed. We’re most lucky.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Is luck the right word?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Fortuna has favored us in one regard, at least. After months of fruitless searching, we have a lead to Runner Five’s location at last. And with Quinzi as our local guide, our visit should be brief.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I wish we could do it all by gondola. People said they’ve got the zombie situation in Venice under control, but that could mean anything. And do we even know what this plague is?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Only that it’s almost invariably fatal. But the aquatic route isn’t possible, I’m afraid. In days past, the canals of Venice were home to a profusion rats. Today, it’s the restless dead who clog the waters.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: There, Quinzi. There’s a dock at the base of the stairs. [gondola bumps against dock, canal water splashes] Throw me the rope!

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Careful! Frances, Quinzi, the steps are slimed with weed.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Don’t worry, I never slip. Alice always said I was like a goat. At least, I think that’s what she meant. She might have just been telling me I needed deodorant.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Lead the way, Quinzi. The one we seek is at the far end of the canal. The mysterious Raven nests in the Giardini Reali, the Royal Gardens. We’re in Venice, a plague city ruled by unknown powers. I believe we should make haste.

~

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: This place is labyrinthine. We’d be lost without the map your band of thieves supplied, Quinzi.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: You call yourself the Magpies, right, Quin? Why does everyone in Venice name themselves after birds? And how do we know we can trust this Raven person? The message came through like, five different people before it reached us, and no one even agrees who the Raven is.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Indeed. A shoe seller in Istanbul was quite certain the Raven is a man of indeterminate but enormous age. An immortal, older than the city of Venice itself. A [?] assassin described a girl of twelve, a killer like himself, the most deadly of them all.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: That’s not ominous.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: They say the plague began with the Raven. Its first victim appeared the day after the arrival of that ill-omened bird. Of course, people have always blamed outsiders for their misfortune. And Venice has a shameful history in that regard. Did you know that the word ghetto had its origins here? It was the area of the city the government forced its Jewish inhabitants to live.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Yeah, we did the Merchant of Venice in school. Antonio was a dick.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: My feelings entirely. And I can tell by your face, Quinzi, that you feel the same.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I don’t like it here. There’s something... wrong with this place.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: It’s sinking. The waters always clamored to reclaim it, and the apocalypse has hastened the process.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: It’s more than that. It’s the way the paint’s all flaking off the walls. The buildings are beautiful, but the stonework’s crumbling. It looks, I don’t know, decaying? Like it died a long time ago.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: But someone yet lives here. Two factions patrol the streets of Venice, keeping an uneasy peace, one by day and one by night. Neither is our friend. The Raven advised us to travel in that liminal time when powers change hands and Venice has no true master. Our window of opportunity is brief.

FRANCES DEMSPEY: You know the route the Raven sent us, don’t you, Quinzi? Let’s run.

~

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Oh, we’re back at the Grand Canal. I’ve got totally turned around. I think I can see... Up ahead, that covered bridge. Is that...?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: The Rialto. It houses stone shops within its arches. Venice was a city built on commerce, and so it remains. Trade is the lifeblood of this place and the reason so many still make their home here.

FRANCES DEMSPEY: But who’s in charge? You said two factions.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: They are but parasites on the body politic! The gondoliers and their poisons roam during the day, while the Mala del Brenta patrol at night. Once, the Mala were a mere mafia. Now they’re said to traffic in far worse than drugs. But as for who rules? Venice has changed hands a dozen times since the apocalypse. Rumors are the King of Zagreb ran it at one time. The French warlord Jacques Le Renard claimed dominion for a year and two days. Now? Perhaps the city belongs only to itself.

GONDOLIER: Knives for sale, [?]. Knives, knives for sale!

FRANCES DEMSPEY: The gondola! I guess the changeover hasn’t happened yet. Quick, under this bridge. Hide in the shadows.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: There are three women in that boat. One to row, one to cry their wares, the third has a knife! She’s using it to sever the hands.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: The hands!

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Grasping for the boat out of the water. Bloated and white in death, the flesh half-peeled away. The dead seeking company in their watery grave.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Glad we didn’t try to row in. Look, the boat’s tying up. They’re getting out.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: The time of the gondoliers draws to a close, and the hour of the Mala approaches. We must hurry!

~

FRANCES DEMPSY: It’s so silent. I know there are people living here. Up there, see? Eyes watching us from the window. But there’s no one on the streets.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: We’ve traveled broadly, you and I, in our quest for Five. A sighting in Budapest that was nothing but smoke and mirrors. A trail running through the warring cantons of the Alps. Helpless people pulled from danger by a nameless benefactor. No trace of them remained. We’ve visited pirate archipelagos and a warlord’s palace, but Venice is more dangerous than all of them.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I heard Amelia the last time you spoke to her. She sounded really worried, for Amelia. Actually, not even just for Amelia.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: She’s followed many fruitless leads in the search for Five, made many painful deals for information that proved of little value.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: We’ve all tried so hard for nothing. If we need to take risks to finally get an answer, I don’t care. It’s worth it. [flies buzz] Ugh, that’s horrible! Quinzi, watch out. There’s a pile of corpses in the middle of the road. They’ve just been... thrown there, like chucking out the rubbish!

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Only recently deceased. Their skin is covered in lumps, buboes.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Buboes? Like... Bubonic plague?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: More yellow in color, with a curious purple marking in their center. It’s almost like a letter.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Don’t get too close. Could infect you. [distant shout] Where did that come from?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: One of the arms in that pile of corpses is twitching. A leg is kicking out.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Are they zombies, or... God. People just left them here to die?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: We cannot stay to find the answer. Quinzi, lead on!

~

[bell rings]

BELL RINGER: Portate fuori i vostri morti!

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: The bell-ringer and his companions are entering a crumbling palazzo, no doubt to collect the bodies of more unfortunates. From the charnel smell, I believe that’s their wagon up ahead.

FRANCES DEMSPEY: Ugh, it’s full of decapitated heads. They’re still alive! I mean, dead-alive. Their teeth are snapping.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Lacking their spines, they shouldn’t be capable of movement.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: V-types do that, though. You have to disassemble them into basically atoms before they stop moving. But there shouldn’t be any V-types outside the UK.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Perhaps the plague creates them.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: That’s... That’s a really bad thought. I can see people on the other side of the canal. I think they’re having dinner. There’s a white tablecloth and candles and everything. Who does that on the side of a canal full of corpses?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Italians.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: It’s my fault, you know. Five being missing, everyone being captured. It’s all my fault.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: I hardly think that’s true.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: They told me not to come. They never wanted me on the mission to Tunisia. They knew I’d be a liability, but I wanted to be part of the team. [sighs] I wanted to be as valuable to them as Alice was. And because I was there, it all went wrong! I’m a jinx.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: I believe in many things, Frances. I believe our spirit survives us after our death, and that a higher power guides the turning of the ages. But I will never believe that an innocent young woman, acting from love and with courage, is responsible for so much ill luck. No. There is some other force working against us, some malevolence that hasn’t yet shown its face.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: What if it is the Raven?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Then we’ve made a very serious mistake. Alas, we have no choice but to see it to its end. There, do you see? On the balcony of that half-destroyed house, figure in feathered carnival masks watching us. They are the Mala. We’re on their territory, uninvited. If they catch us, they will kill us.

~

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I can hear them following us, but I can’t see them. [distant shouts] Oh God, what’s that?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: The Mala’s hunting call, or...

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Or what?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Another variant of the undead, perhaps unique to these shores. Who knows what strange and terrible forms the virus may have taken in such a place as this?

FRANCES DEMSPEY: I can smell them, I think. It’s not like normal zom smell. It’s almost... Sweet?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: There are many mysteries to unravel here. Our challenge is to live to unravel them.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: What are you even doing here, Mo? You could have put me on a boat back to England and gone home to your wife. This isn’t your fight.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: I made a promise to Miss Spens that I’d see her people safe. My word is my bond. No true currency remains in this world except that.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: You’re a good man, Mo.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: One could ask for no higher praise!

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Look, over there, past the narrow marble bridge. Is that someone wearing a bird mask? The Raven, it must be!

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: A plague doctor’s mask, of course!

FRANCES DEMPSEY: They’re pointing left. What does it mean?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Ah! Ah, a narrow alley between buildings, hidden in shadow. We would have run straight past it!  I believe the Raven means for us to take it!

FRANCES DEMPSEY: What if it’s a trap? What if it leads us straight to the Mala? Maybe that was the whole point of bringing us here.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: We have quite literally no other option. Follow our masked friend’s directions. Quinzi, run!

~

FRANCES DEMPSEY: There, at the end of the street. The person in the plague mask, the Raven. They’re waiting for us the other side of the bridge. They’re beckoning. But we’ve got the Mala or the zombies or whatever they are right behind us.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Ah, no! I understand now. The bridge is wooden, do you see? And there is some sort of mechanism. I believe it’s a drawbridge. We merely have to make it across and our safety is ensured. It appears the Raven was indeed attempting to aid us. It’s a balm to the soul to find such an honor in this fallen world.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Come on, Quinzi! Last burst of speed. We did it! We’re safe.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Not until we raise the drawbridge. Quinzi, you could take the other side.

[drawbridge mechanism clanks]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: That’s creepy. The sound just... Stopped. Are they really gone?

THE RAVEN: The hunt’s over. They won’t bother me here. We have, uh... An understanding.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Is that...? No, it can’t be!

THE RAVEN: Oh, let me take this damn thing off. Oh, I can hardly breathe up here! [sighs] It’s so good to see you, Frances!

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Maxine!

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Our missing doctor. We have come here in search of one lost companion, and found quite another.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: How did you get here, and what are you doing? Do you really know where Five is? Do you know how to rescue the others?

MAXINE MYERS: One question at a time, please! I don’t know it all, Frances, but I have found out a few things. Venice may be a hellhole, but a lot of information finds its way here. There is so much for me to tell you, and so much for us to do.