THE WALK AMONG US By Brian Kral

(Excerpts may be used royalty free for auditions.)

AUDITION 1- for 2 w and 2 flex

In this scene, Alanis comes closer to learning what happened to her sister.

(AT RISE: ALANIS walks the street on her way back to her tent. In an area near the tent compound, two SPORTS FANS struggle to listen to SFX: a soccer game through the static from a beat-up boombox.)

FIRST SPORTS FAN: (To no one in particular.) My father told me he was never more alive than when Manno Sanon kicked the winning goal against Italia in the ‘74 Coupe du Monde.

(As ALANIS approaches, SFX: the static grows, and the radio reception goes out.)

SECOND SPORTS FAN: Cheap piece of junk.

(HE fiddles with the dials, without success. Both FANS stop to stare at ALANIS as she passes in front of them, their expressions suddenly vacant and lifeless. Pause. She notices and begins to walk faster. When she is past them, the arms of both Sports Fans fly up, their expressions still vacant, staring straight ahead where they first saw Alanis.)

BOTH SPORTS FANS: (In dead voices.) Sco-o-ore!

(SFX: Immediately the game returns, and THEY scoop up the boombox and exit, animated. Outside their tent, DAPHNE is crouched by a small barbecue grill.)

ALANIS: (Surprised.) Mom. You’re here. I thought you had to go back to the clinic. DAPHNE: (Stirring something in a worn pot.) I did. But then I decided we should eat together. ALANIS: How come? DAPHNE: I was already feeling lightheaded. Then, as I began to experience an out of body episode—floating above myself and all of my patients— I knew it was indeed time for some protein and relaxation. And the company of my charming daughter, of course. (Smiles.) The food is almost ready. ALANIS: Are you okay? DAPHNE: I have absolutely no doubt that I’m as fit as a fiddle. But Dr. Plantain thought I needed a good night’s rest and sent me home early. With a mild prescription sedative. (Takes a small pill bottle from her pocket and shakes it.) We’ll see if I take it! (Putting it back, SHE reaches out her hand.) Would you hand me those plates? ALANIS: (Passes her some disposable picnic plates.) What are we having? DAPHNE: (Dishing up the food.) The height of Haitian haute cuisine. Red beans and rice, with a dash of week-old sweet pork thrown in to give it some zing. Imagine it grilled over coals in a converted steel drum. That way you get a little night music with your meal. (SHE taps her fork against the side of the grill.) ALANIS: (Taking a plate from HER.) As a physician, you ought to know better. DAPHNE: (Doing her best Groucho Marx impression.) “As a physician, I ought to know a lot of things.” Bon appétit. (Sits in a chair and begins eating.) ALANIS: (Staring.) Where is my mother and what have you done with her? DAPHNE: What do you mean? ALANIS: Daphne Ducette would never make jokes like that. DAPHNE: (Approximating an imprecise Haitian accent.) No, dat doctor—she a very serious woman. She don’t butter her bread with her machete. ALANIS: (Agreeing.) Or spread her cheese with a scalpel. DAPHNE: How did you know about the cheese? ALANIS: There’s still a dab on your upper lip. DAPHNE: (Appalled.) There is not! (Frantically wipes HER face with a paper napkin.) ALANIS: (Amused.) Don’t worry, Mom. You didn’t go through your rounds with cheese on your face. (DAPHNE stops, still wondering how Alanis knew.) The evidence is on the ground, next to the tent. DAPHNE: (Retrieving the container.) I would have cleaned that up. ALANIS: I know you would have. You’re very responsible. DAPHNE: Thank you. (Impulsively squirts some cheese into HER own mouth, then holds out the can.) Would you like a little? ALANIS: No, thank you.

(DAPHNE returns to her seat, and THEY eat quietly for a moment.)

ALANIS: (Cont’d.) By the way? That was about the worst accent I’ve ever heard. You sounded Jamaican. DAPHNE: (With an elevated English dialect.) Yes, well, that’s why I had to give up my studies at the Royal Academy, I suppose, and a promising career in the West End, to take up the practice of medicine. ALANIS: Any regrets? DAPHNE: (With conviction, in her natural voice.) None whatsoever. If I hadn’t become a doctor, I wouldn’t have come to Haiti. If I hadn’t have come to Haiti, I wouldn’t’ve met your father. Actually, I may have regrets about that (Tips HER head, considering this.) but nothing that won’t heal with time. And how was your father today, by the way? ALANIS: (As THEY eat.) Strange as ever! DAPHNE: I am not the least surprised. But, to resume: If I hadn’t met your father, I most certainly would not have had you. And, so. No regrets. Case closed. ALANIS: What about Camilla?

(Pause. DAPHNE inhales and breathes out a deep sigh.) DAPHNE: Why is everyone asking about your poor deceased sister today? (SHE looks at ALANIS, and sets aside her plate, answering sincerely.) I have no regrets about having Camilla. She was a beautiful child. But I do suffer deeply over what happened to her. ALANIS: What did happen? You and Dad sent me away. And no one has ever said why. DAPHNE: (With a sudden, unexpected anger.) Well, for one thing, this whole damn country was falling to pieces…and that had nothing to do with your sister! ALANIS: (Patiently.) I know about that, Mom. I read Dad’s old articles. All very enlightening. But no one, not you or Dad or Grammy or Grampa, ever explained what happened to Camilla.

(Pause. DAPHNE stands, struggling with how to begin.)

DAPHNE: It was a very difficult time. Each day, we were inundated with fresh victims of all the political violence sweeping across Haiti. It was the closest thing to an ER I’ve ever seen. Until the earthquake, of course. I mention this because…if it hadn’t been so…chaotic, so…crazy down at the clinic…perhaps I may have noticed sooner.

AUDITION 2- for 1 m, 4 w

In this scene, Chantal tries to help her sister and Alanis learns about zombies.

ALANIS: (Speaking loudly.) Hello? Ti Marie? I was sent to you with—

(SFX: A second flash of lightning and almost immediate thunder interrupts HER, making her flinch. The drums beating below her in the hounfour also grow louder.)

TI MARIE: (Voice noticeably amplified.) What problem have you brought me, child? ALANIS: (Over the storm and the drums.) I was told you can help me. I believe my sister is a . TI MARIE: And what makes you think such a thing? ALANIS: (Still through the door.) I saw her in a dream, walking with the dead. And then she appeared to me, warning me. TI MARIE: (Trying to frighten her.) It is not for everyone to walk the path of darkness! The loa punish those who call on them without conviction. ALANIS: But I need your help! Won’t you talk to me?

(SFX: Another flash of lightning scares HER, followed by thunder, rainfall begins and continues until noted below. Alanis leans closer to the door.)

ALANIS: (Cont’d.) It’s beginning to rain. Can’t I come in? TI MARIE: Turn back, child! Return to your own people! ALANIS: I brought you the centimes! Please let me in!

(SFX: The drums continue to pound out their beat. Long pause. The door swings slowly, and ALANIS steps through the doorway. Below, the and other PEOPLE at the vodou ceremony huddle together under the tonnelle. The Houngan looks up at the rain, smiling.)

HOUNGAN: (Trying to hold the crowd, speaking to the audience.) Brothers and sisters! Tonight we come together in a communion of faith and feeling. We bring peace and joy to our people because we throw off our worries and our problems. (HE nods to the crowd, grinning confidently.) This rain don’t hurt nothing! Houngan Bossuet know how to stop the rain.

(SFX: The drumbeat stops. SINETTE and the VODOU DANCER assist the HOUNGAN in setting up the props for his theatrical ceremony to stop the rain. PRODUCTION NOTE: If practical, action in the two settings should be visible simultaneously. Above, inside the ’S HUT, a match flares to life. TI MARIE lights a single bright candle. She turns to face Alanis.)

ALANIS: (Shocked.) Dr. Plantain?

(MARIE nods and moves about the hut lighting other candles with the larger one.)

MARIE: Are you surprised? ALANIS: A little. MARIE: Wondering why an educated woman like myself would moonlight as a conjure wife—a Mambo—in a run- down hut with a thatched roof? (ALANIS nods.) Some people, you might call them primitive people, only respond to help when they believe it’s supernatural. So if I can a poor family that their child should be given a few extra vitamins or inoculated against measles, just by talking vodou or saying the spirits want them to do this…then it is worth it. ALANIS: So you don’t believe in vodou. MARIE: Oh, I didn’t say that! (Smiles and sets her large candle up on a shelf.)

(SFX: A low drumbeat. The HOUNGAN is handed a dark reddish colored rock and holds it up for the audience to see.)

HOUNGAN: (Conjuring for the crowd.) I take this sacred stone—a pierre tonnerre—and I put it on the ground to strike it with my machete. (HE does so, hitting it three ringing blows with the side of the machete blade. He stops and looks up, pleased. See production notes.) MARIE: My mother and grandmother were respected conjure women in the little lakou where I grew up. My grandmother was known as Madame Jacques. She was the first one in her village to have her thatched roof replaced with tin. She couldn’t read the Bible, but she still went to church and rolled those little glass rosary beads every Sunday. Then at sunset, people would come to her backyard, and she’d cast spells or make charms and potions. HOUNGAN: (Again lifting the rock in both hands.) This is called a thunderstone, and it’s very special in the vodou ceremony because it’s made by the spirits of thunder and lightning. The loa hurl a fiery lightning bolt at the earth! And it strikes a mountain, casting the thunderstone down to the valley floor. And there it must stay, undisturbed, for a year and a day, before any houngan dares to touch it.

(HE places the rock carefully in an enamel bowl which rests on his crate. He then takes a bottle and pours alcohol over the rock.)

MARIE: I was taught vodou ways, but I was determined to move in a different direction. (Slowly moves about the room, collecting props to gather them in the center.) I got a scholarship, studied abroad. But when I came home to Haiti, I was reminded that, to ti Guinee, doctors and priests were always the same person.

(The HOUNGAN strikes a match and touches it to the bowl. The alcohol on the rock erupts into flames.)

MARIE: (Cont’d.) One of my first patients was a highly educated man. I could see what was troubling him, and I was confident I could help. But what he really needed, he told me, was a potion. MARIE: (Cont’d.) So I mixed up some water and a handful of common herbs I knew wouldn’t hurt him, boiled it up and poured it in an old bottle. (Laughs loudly at the absurdity of it, shaking HER head.) He paid me fifty dollars for it and was fine from that day forward!

(Dipping HIS right hand into the flame, the HOUNGAN holds it up and appears to have set his hand on fire. Then he quickly wraps the right hand with a cloth to extinguish the fire. SFX: Rain stops.)

MARIE: (Cont’d. Concluding.) Science cured him, but science was not enough. He still required something supernatural to believe in, in order for it to work. HOUNGAN: (Extends HIS other hand, to show that the rain has stopped. Smiling proudly.) You see? No more rain.

(SINETTE and the OTHERS begin a round of applause for him, which HE encourages. SFX: The drumbeat resumes faintly, followed by more subdued dancing, led by the VODOU DANCER and Sinette, which continues without drawing the focus.)

MARIE: You’re staring at me like I’m part of some cannibalistic cult, and I don’t blame you a bit. But there is still one thing you have to take into account: Haiti is 80 percent Catholic and 15 percent Protestant, of which 10 percent of those are Baptists…but it is 110 percent vodou! ALANIS: Chantal would be impressed. That is creative arithmetic. MARIE: It’s simple, once you understand: Most of those Catholics…are also into vodou. Now the Protestants, they try to smash it down, calling it “black magic.” But they’re new around here. We’re still working on them. (Slight pause.) How did you find me, child? ALANIS: I told Chantal my dream. She found the Houngan. He directed me to you. To Ti Marie… He was very helpful. MARIE: (Nodding.) Even a wild pig knows which tree to scratch himself against. ALANIS: You don’t like him? MARIE: (Casually.) I like him fine. And I like pigs. But I don’t put my trust in either of them. One thing Haiti teaches you is that good and evil are often the same. As a , he might serve the darkness, as a Houngan, the side of light. And like most people, he is capable of serving both. ALANIS: Do you think he has powers? MARIE: Vodou powers? I don’t know. He does have the power to convince people he has power. (Takes down a large jar from a shelf, which she adds to the other items.) And I think he believes that there are people with real vodou magic. HOUNGAN: (To the crowd, raising a hand for quiet.) Listen, people! You are not in your own houses! We must have quiet if the spirits are to be heard.

(SFX: The drums and the faithful quickly fall silent. SINETTE exits behind the curtain at the back of the tonnelle.)

MARIE: Vodou spins a web of belief that’s all-inclusive. If you believe in the magic, then you also believe the good are rewarded, and the guilty are punished. There is no escape. ALANIS: How are they punished? MARIE: Oh, you already know that. That’s why you’re here. (Once more gets the large candle.) So, let’s talk about zombies, shall we? HOUNGAN: (Picking up a jar of cornmeal.) I call on Sinette to come forward. She will be our cheval, and speak for Baron Samedi.

(The VODOU DANCER pulls the curtain aside dramatically. SINETTE stands behind it, alone and motionless, her eyes closed and holding a long candle. Silence in the hounfour. Sinette slowly walks forward. She then spins twice in one direction and kneels down to put her candle on the ground. She lights the candle and stops, staring into the light as though hypnotized. In her hut, TI MARIE walks forward with her candle as well.)

MARIE: Basically, there are two kinds of zombies: (Places her lit candle on the floor, stares into its flame.) astral zombies, or spirit zombies…

(SHE and SINETTE stand up simultaneously.)

MARIE: (Cont’d.) And body zombies, or zombies of the flesh.

(SINETTE takes a jar from the HOUNGAN. From it, she pours a wide circle of cornmeal around her.)

MARIE: (Cont’d.) I think what’s haunting you is a spirit zombie, but they’re both very dangerous. (Pours a wide circle of cornmeal on the floor of the hut from her jar.) The problem with a spirit zombie is they can get inside your head and play all sorts of psychological tricks on you. Or they can hold you to a place that’s physically bad for you.

(SINETTE scoops out a handful of cornmeal and carefully pours out a design on the ground in front of her.)

ALANIS: (Inside the cornmeal circle, watching.) How do you get rid of them? MARIE: You’ve got to find where the ti bon ange has been caught. (Scoops out a handful of cornmeal and pours a design similar to Sinette’s.) ALANIS: My dad used those words: ti bon ange! MARIE: (Nodding.) It’s the soul or spirit of a person. Zombies are made by capturing the ti bon ange. As long as someone holds it, you can never be free.

From: The Zombies Walk Among Us- By Brian Kral Published by: Eldridge Publishing Co. http://www.histage.com/playdetails.asp?PID=2647