The god of hell: a play Page 3

FRANK

  : Situation?

  HAYNES

  : Yeah. You know—

  FRANK

  : Oh, you mean back there in Rocky Buttes or whatever you call it.

  (HAYNES wheels around suddenly to FRANK. Just stares at him.)

  What?

  HAYNES

  : Where’d you hear that name?

  FRANK

  : What, Rocky Buttes?

  HAYNES

  : Don’t say that name!

  FRANK

  : That’s what you told me on the phone.

  HAYNES

  : I never told you that. That’s not something I would have told you. It’s top secret! Does she know?

  FRANK

  : Who?

  HAYNES

  : Your wife! Emma. Does she know?

  FRANK

  : What?

  HAYNES

  : The name!

  FRANK

  : Rocky Buttes?

  (HAYNES leaps toward FRANK, grabbing him by the shoulders and covering his mouth.)

  HAYNES

  : Stop saying that name! I told you not to say it! What’s the matter with you? That was one of the first things I told you on the phone. That was one of our contingencies. Wasn’t it?

  (FRANK can’t answer with HAYNES’s hand over his mouth.)

  Wasn’t it?!

  (HAYNES releases him. Pause. FRANK wipes his mouth.)

  FRANK

  : You better settle down, Graig.

  HAYNES

  : I’m sorry.

  FRANK

  : We lead a very peaceful life here. We’re in the country. We’re dairy farmers.

  HAYNES

  : I’m sorry. I just can’t take any chances. Maybe, after this thing blows over—

  FRANK

  : What thing?

  HAYNES

  : This whole—crisis.

  FRANK

  : Are we talking about a world situation or something personal, Graig?

  HAYNES

  : What’s the difference?

  (Pause. HAYNES rubs his arms from the cold. He moves to windows and looks out over the fields below.)

  God, it’s cold.

  FRANK

  : Yeah. You’ll get used to it.

  HAYNES

  : Are those your cows down there below?

  FRANK

  : They’re not cows. They’re replacement heifers.

  HAYNES

  : Oh—

  FRANK

  : Those are my babies.

  HAYNES

  : What are they replacing?

  FRANK

  : Older cows. Retired cows.

  HAYNES

  : Oh, I see. Yeah, I remember.

  FRANK

  : They haven’t had a calf yet. Every year you save some back.

  HAYNES

  : Unbred?

  FRANK

  : Exactly. The mama cows are up in the top pasture.

  HAYNES

  : So you’re going to breed them then, is that it? These replacement heifers?

  FRANK

  : I plan to. Yes.

  HAYNES

  : You’ve got the bull?

  FRANK

  : He’s out back.

  HAYNES

  : What are you waiting for?

  FRANK

  : Spring.

  (Pause. HAYNES keeps staring out window.)

  HAYNES

  : Do you know what plutonium is named after, Frank?

  FRANK

  : What? Plutonium?

  HAYNES

  : Yes.

  FRANK

  : No—what?

  HAYNES

  : Pluto—the god of hell.

  FRANK

  : Oh—I thought he was a cartoon.

  HAYNES

  : Do you know how long it remains radioactive and biologically dangerous once it’s released into the atmosphere?

  FRANK

  : Plutonium?

  HAYNES

  : Yes.

  FRANK

  : No, I don’t know anything about it.

  HAYNES

  : Five hundred thousand years.

  FRANK

  : That’s a long time.

  HAYNES

  : It is. The most carcinogenic substance known to man. It causes mutations in the genes of the reproductive cells. The eggs and the sperm. Major mutations. A

  kind of random compulsory genetic engineering that goes on and on and on and on.

  FRANK

  : That would probably affect my heifers then, wouldn’t it?

  HAYNES

  : Yes, it would, Frank. It definitely would affect your heifers. It would affect every heifer within six hundred miles of here. It would penetrate the food chain and bio-accumulate thousands of times over, lasting generation after generation. Tasteless, odorless, and invisible.

  FRANK

  : Is that what this is all about, Graig? Is that why you had to come out here? This random, compulsory genetic thing?

  (Long pause. HAYNES stares out window.)

  HAYNES

  : Looks like your man is back.

  FRANK

  : What?

  HAYNES

  : Your stranger. Is that him down there?

  FRANK

  : I never saw him. What’s he doing?

  (FRANK moves fast to window, looks out.)

  HAYNES

  : That’s probably him.

  FRANK

  : What’s he doing down there?

  HAYNES

  : Looks like he’s walking around with your heifers.

  FRANK

  : In the pen? He’s in the pen with my heifers?

  HAYNES

  : Looks like. Isn’t he right inside there with them?

  FRANK

  : I’ll be right back.

  HAYNES

  : Be careful, Frank. You don’t know this guy.

  (FRANK rushes out on porch, grabs his coat, and exits. HAYNES watches him cross window outside. EMMA appears in half-light of archway by kitchen. She just stands there staring at HAYNES. HAYNES turns toward her. Pause.)

  What’s that dripping sound?

  EMMA

  : The plants. I overwater them. I can’t help myself.

  (HAYNES smiles. He reaches out and touches one of EMMAs plants. Again, the brilliantly bright flash of blue light comes from his hand. HAYNES jumps back. Black out.)

  Scene Two

  Same set: Next morning. EMMA going through same routine—watering plants, back and forth to the sink with the pitcher HAYNES sits on couch with his back partially to audience, sipping coffee, watching EMMA. Pause for a while as EMMA just waters and HAYNES just sips.

  EMMA

  : (

  continuing to water

  ) You’re up bright and early.

  HAYNES

  : Yes—where’s Frank?

  EMMA

  : Feeding the heifers. He’s always feeding the heifers.

  HAYNES

  : He seems very devoted to them.

  EMMA

  : He is. It’s his life’s work.

  HAYNES

  : I’m glad to see he’s finally found something.

  EMMA

  : Yes. You two must have gone very different ways.

  HAYNES

  : How do you mean?

  EMMA

  : Well, I mean—your work—your research.

  HAYNES

  : My research?

  EMMA

  : Yes. Whatever it is—I don’t know. It’s different.

  HAYNES

  : Different than what?

  EMMA

  : Frank. Different than what Frank chose.

  HAYNES

  : Oh, yes. Sure. I see.

  EMMA

  : I mean Frank never had any aspirations like that. He’s always been very content in the country. Farming. Animal husbandry, hybrid vigor. Stuff like that.

  HAYNES

  : Sure. I see what you mean. Hybrid
vigor?

  EMMA

  : Whereas, you—you’re off working for the government, doing important research.

  HAYNES

  : I’m not in research. I’m not doing any research.

  EMMA

  : Oh—well, Frank told me—

  HAYNES

  : Frank was mistaken.

  EMMA

  : Oh. He told me he thought you were working for the government.

  HAYNES

  : No. I’m not.

  EMMA

  : Out there somewhere in a place called Rocky Buttes or something.

  (HAYNES stands abruptly, knocking over the coffee.)

  HAYNES

  : Oh—I’m sorry. I’m just—

  EMMA

  : Don’t worry about it.

  (She hurries to sink, gets a sponge, comes back, and cleans up mess. HAYNES just stands there.)

  HAYNES

  : I’m so sorry. I’ve been kind of shaky lately.

  EMMA

  : It’s all right. It’s probably all that static shock.

  HAYNES

  : Well, no—it’s not that so much. It’s just a whole accumulation of things.

  EMMA

  : (

  cleaning up

  ) Well, don’t worry.

  HAYNES

  : Things piling up.

  EMMA

  : I understand.

  HAYNES

  : That’s why I thought it would be good to get away for a while. Come out here and—just get away.

  EMMA

  : Sure.

  HAYNES

  : I hope you don’t mind. I mean—

  EMMA

  : It’s fine. Really. Wisconsin is the perfect getaway. Nothing ever happens here. People have been coming here for a hundred years because nothing ever happens. Every once in a while someone falls through the ice or gets beheaded on their snowmobile, but other than that—

  HAYNES

  : Beheaded?

  EMMA

  : On their snowmobile. You know—going so darn fast they don’t see the barbed-wire fence and—(

  draws a line across her neck

  )

  HAYNES

  : Oh—I’m very sorry about the spill. Is it going to ruin the sofa?

  EMMA

  : Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s beyond ruin. It’s seen way worse than coffee spills. Premature calves. Afterbirth. Blood all over the place. You can’t wreck it. More coffee?

  HAYNES

  : Yes—well, no—well, yes, I guess I will. Yes.

  EMMA

  : That’s a yes?

  HAYNES

  : Yes. Thanks.

  EMMA

  : Good.

  (She gets him another cup of coffee. Pause.)

  HAYNES

  : How long have you lived out here? You and Frank?

  EMMA

  : Well, I’ve lived here all my life.

  HAYNES

  : Oh—a native? I didn’t know that.

  EMMA

  : Yes. I was born in this house, as a matter of fact. Right in this room. Right on the spot you’re standing, actually.

  HAYNES

  : Oh—

  (He looks down at floor and quickly jumps away from spot he’s standing on.)

  EMMA

  : That’s all right. It’s not sacred or anything.

  HAYNES

  : That’s amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that.

  EMMA

  : Like what?

  HAYNES

  : Well, you know—born and raised in the same house, still living in the same place. Same spot—

  EMMA

  : There’s a few of us left.

  (She returns to watering.)

  HAYNES

  :That’s amazing.

  EMMA

  : It’s funny what different people find amazing.

  HAYNES

  : Aren’t you afraid of drowning those plants?

  EMMA

  : I’m not afraid of anything.

  HAYNES

  : (

  short pause

  ) No, but I mean—some plants don’t like to be sitting in water all the time. The roots—

  EMMA

  : It’s the winters.

  HAYNES

  : Sorry?

  EMMA

  : The winters, out here.

  HAYNES

  : Oh—

  EMMA

  : They cause behavior like this. You have no idea. You get into these habits. These trains of thought. If I—if I didn’t water like this, I wouldn’t know what to

  do with myself. There would be a horrible gap. I might fall in.

  HAYNES

  : I see.

  EMMA

  : I suppose you never have this problem in your line of work. Everything must be so exciting all the time. Out there in the West—

  HAYNES

  : Well, not really.

  EMMA

  : No? All that danger? The uncertainty?

  HAYNES

  : Danger?

  EMMA

  : Yes. The torture! I mean, I couldn’t believe that part of it.

  HAYNES

  : Torture? Look—I don’t know what Frank’s been telling you, but—

  EMMA

  : Oh, I know it’s all top secret and you’re not allowed to talk about it.

  HAYNES

  : Talk about what?

  EMMA

  : Rocky Buttes—all that stuff.

  (HAYNES stands again very abruptly, upset.)

  HAYNES

  : Stop saying that over and over again! Like it’s some kind of code or something!

  EMMA

  : I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—

  HAYNES

  :Frank wasn’t even supposed to mention it!

  EMMA

  : I’m very sorry.

  HAYNES

  : I wouldn’t even have come out here if I’d known he was going to blab it all over the place!

  EMMA

  : Blab? He didn’t blab. Frank’s not a blabber.

  HAYNES

  : He blabbed to you!

  EMMA

  : I’m his wife!

  HAYNES

  : It’s still blabbing! A breach of trust!

  (HAYNES suddenly gets ahold of himself and stops. Pause. EMMA somewhat shocked by the outburst.)

  I’m—sorry.

  EMMA

  : You must be under a great deal of stress, Mr. Haynes.

  HAYNES

  : Yes. I’m very sorry. I—I should just go back down in the basement.

  EMMA

  : There’s no need for that.

  HAYNES

  : I don’t mean to—something’s—happening to me.

  EMMA

  : What is it? Would you like me to—

  HAYNES

  : No!

  EMMA

  : I could call a doctor.

  HAYNES

  : No, I’m fine!

  EMMA

  : Those blue flashes—that’s not normal, Mr. Haynes. I mean, I’ve had static shock before—

  HAYNES

  : That’s what it is! Static shock! Severe static shock! Why don’t you believe me?

  EMMA

  : I do believe you.

  HAYNES

  : No, you don’t! You just told me it wasn’t normal.

  EMMA

  : Well, it’s not normal to have lightning flashes coming out of your body, is it?

  HAYNES

  : It’s not lightning, it’s static shock!!

  EMMA

  : All right, all right! Golly.

  (Pause.)

  HAYNES

  : I’ll just go back down in the basement until Frank comes up. I never should have left the basement in the first place.

  (HAYNES heads for basement. EMMA stops him.)

  EMMA

  : No, please. Don’t go back down in the basement. There’s no windows down there. No air. I feel like su
ch a bad hostess.

  HAYNES

  : No, not at all. It’s not you, it’s me. I just need to be alone for a while. Please—

  (HAYNES tries to go past EMMA to get to the basement. She grabs his elbow, trying to stop him, and another bright blue flash comes from HAYNES. EMMA steps back quickly.)

  Don’t keep touching me!

  EMMA

  : I’m sorry. I just—I’m very sorry. Jeepers.

  HAYNES

  : I never should have come here!

  EMMA

  : No, please—please—it’s so nice to have some company for a change. We never see anyone out here. Me and Frank. The mailman now and then. The propane delivery truck. The driver. They wave to us from the road. We wave back. But we never talk to anyone.

  HAYNES

  : Don’t you have some neighbors?

  EMMA

  : They never come out. It’s too cold.

  HAYNES

  : How ’bout summer?

  EMMA

  : Summer they stay in the air-conditioning.

  HAYNES

  : Don’t they farm too?

  EMMA

  : Nobody farms anymore. Government pays them not to. We’re the only ones left.

  HAYNES

  : How come you and Frank do it?

  EMMA

  : Frank loves his heifers.

  HAYNES

  : Oh—

  EMMA

  : He lives for his heifers.

  HAYNES

  : I see—

  EMMA

  : Don’t you want more coffee?

  HAYNES

  : Well—

  EMMA

  : Please—

  HAYNES

  : All right.

  (She gets him more coffee. Pause.)

  Did a man come by here yesterday? Frank said something about a man. A stranger.

  EMMA

  : Yes. Weirdest thing. He just walked right in here like he owned the place.

  HAYNES

  : What did he want?

  EMMA

  : I’m not sure. At first he was trying to force a cookie on me.

  HAYNES

  : A cookie?

  EMMA

  : Yes. An American flag cookie.

  HAYNES

  : Did you accept?

  EMMA

  : What?

  HAYNES

  : The cookie.

  EMMA

  : No. Of course not.

  HAYNES

  : What else did he want?

  EMMA

  : Wanted to know how many rooms there were in the house and who was living in the basement.

  HAYNES

  : The basement?

  EMMA

  : Yes.

  HAYNES

  :He asked you that?

  EMMA

  : Yes.

  HAYNES

  :The basement, specifically?

  EMMA

  : Yes, he did.

  HAYNES

  : Well, nobody’s living in the basement.

  EMMA

  : That’s what I told him.

  HAYNES

  : You did?

  EMMA

  : Yes, I did.

  HAYNES

  : And that’s not a lie, is it? Because I’m technically not “living” in the basement—I’m just staying down there for a little while—just visiting. I’m your guest, in fact.