The Buddy Story - A Screenplay

INT. COMEDY CLUB - NIGHT

A smokey, dingey third-rate comedy club. The club has barely anyone inside: a couple at the bar and two or three sitting closer to the stage. There is silence because BUDDY is dying on stage; his tight fitting suit seems to be winning the battle for breath. He holds the microphone like he’s trying to throttle it. Behind BUDDY is a battered sign on an easel: “THE BUDDY PARSNIP SHOW”.

BUDDY (Talking into the microphone):Why is a martyr like the Grateful Dead? They're both stoned?

Absolute silence from the audience, maybe an embarrassed cough.

BUDDY: Manic depressives make the best pilots! Why? They're already flying solo.

A couple of people look at each other in confusion.

BUDDY: I used to have a drinking problem... I tried drinking gasses instead of liquids!

Another patron throws a plastic bottle at Buddy and it hits him on the chest.

AUDIENCE MEMBER (Shouts): YOU SUCK!

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: THE BUDDY STORY

INT. DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Buddy sits alone in the backstage communal dressing room. He stares at himself in the mirror. His reflection winks back just as Mr O'Flattery opens the door. He walks up to Buddy and slaps him on the shoulder.

Mr O'Flaterry is overbearingly small. 

MR O'FLATTERY: Well, you done it again, pal! Well done. I knew I could really rely on you!

BUDDY: I bombed! Again! You heard them out there…

MR O'FLATTERY: That’s what I like best about your act, kid! You manage to clear the house every time you're on! Tuesdays and Thursdays I have a hard time getting rid of the drunks; but the nights that you're on they just get up and leave!

Buddy slumps deeper into his chair and stares at his reflection. His reflection grimaces briefly.

MR O'FLATTERY: Look, business was crap before you got here and you haven't made it any worst!But I swear that some people come in just to see how bad you are! At least they’re never disappointed.

CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

Buddy stands outside his front door. He sees the light in the lounge window is on. He grimaces as he carefully puts the key in the lock as quietly as he can manage. He slowly unlocks the front door and silently shuts it behind him.

CUT TO:

INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

He then fumbles his keys and drops them on the floor.

JANGLING CRASH

BUDDY'S MOTHER (An almost manly voice. Menacing but laced with paranoia):Buddy? What time do you call this? You never tell me where you're going or when you'll be back... don't you care about me? Don't you care?

Buddy takes his shoes off in the hall, shaking his head; cowed by his mother once again. 

CUT TO:

INT. LOUNGE - NIGHT

Buddy walks into the lounge. His mother sits on a sofa opposite the television. She has a mug of horlicks on the reading table next to her. She is tall and thin. She is incredibly strong in being weak.

Buddy stands by the door at the edge of the room. He stares at his mum with resignation and hostility.

BUDDY: Mum, for Christ's sake, I'm 36 years old.. I can take care of myself.

BUDDY'S MUM: You can take care of yourself but you don't take care of me! What did I do to deserve such a son?

Buddy sighs.

BUDDY: Mum! For Christ’s sake: I do look after you, well.. I would if you let me. I pay more than enough rent and I try to take you out.

BUDDY'S MUM: I don't want to go outside where all the people are, you never know where they've been! They're too nosey, inconsiderate.. You should stay with me, we could watch television!

BUDDY: Mum – I'm tired, I'm going to bed.

BUDDY'S MUM: Why don't you tell me where you go at night? Is there a woman? Oh, please let there be a woman!

BUDDY: Don't worry, mum -I'm fine!

BUDDY’S MUM: So, there is a woman then?

BUDDY: NO! There's no woman!

BUDDY'S MUM: Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you don’t bring her back?

BUDDY: For the last time. There's no woman, there’s no man… and there are no sheep! But yes - I am ashamed of you. Now good night!.

Buddy turns, walks out the door before his mother has a chance to reply.

CUT TO:

INT. COMEDY CLUB - NIGHT

Another night. Less people than before. Mr O’Flattery looks bemused due to the poor quality of jokes. Buddy at the mic.

BUDDY: What’s the stupidest insect? An ignorant! What’s worse than that though? A sycophant!!

BUDDY'S MUM (Shouts from the back of the room): BUDDY! What are you doing here? I was sick with worry.

Buddy is shocked. His mouth is open and he is in a state of disbelief. The few customers are suddenly more awake and paying attention.

BUDDY (choked): Mum?

Buddy’s mum is walking fast from the back of the room.

BUDDY'S MUM: I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere! Or in a hospital somewhere… or with a woman. I was hoping it was with a woman… or even a man would have been better than this!

The audience, as it is, is paying rapt attention to what is happening. There are smirks and even titters of laughter can be heard.

BUDDY: What are you doing here, Mum?

BUDDY'S MUM: What do you think I'm doing here? I followed you! Why are you making such a sucker out of yourself? Why couldn't you have been with a woman? Even a whore... Anything would have been better than this!

Buddy panics, looks at the audience. The audience is enjoying this. He looks at Mr O’Flattery. Mr O’Flattery grins and gives him the thumbs up. 

BUDDY: Drummers make the worst cryptologists… Why? They’re always crashing their cymbals?

BUDDY'S MUM: Why couldn't it have been a woman?

The audience laughs loudly and Buddy looks utterly defeated.

CUT TO:

INT. BUDDY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

His bedroom is actually smaller than the shared dressing room of the comedy club. The cramped single bed is snug in the far corner. There are posters of Eddie Murphy; Dustin Hoffman (as Lenny Bruce); Tommy Cooper and Jasper Carrott. Buddy is sitting on the edge of his bed, facing his reflection in the built-in mirrored wardrobe. His face is stalwart; his brow is furrowed in frustration. His reflection is frowning, gnashing his teeth. His reflection starts talking. Buddy’s mouth remains shut.

BUDDY'S REFLECTION: She’s done it again; ruined everything. I can’t take it anymore. She’s got to go… But how?

BUDDY: Garrote?

Buddy’s reflection shakes his head.

BUDDY: Push her downstairs?

Another shake of the head.

BUDDY: Freak gardening accident? Swallowing powdered glass?

BUDDY'S REFLECTION: Her cooking is worse, remember?

Silence. Buddy is fuming now. 

BUDDY: GAH! They thought she was brilliant! They never paid that much attention to me before!

BUDDY'S REFLECTION: You were the perfect double-act. They loved the conflict… It’s a shame you can’t make her take part…

BUDDY: Hang on a fucking minute… Maybe I can…

CUT TO:

INT. BEHIND THE STAGE AT THE COMEDY CLUB - NIGHT

Buddy is waiting to go on. He has a stool with him and a suitcase by his side. Mr O’Flattery walks up behind him, beaming.

MR O'FLATTERY: It's a full house, kid! People must have heard of your ball-breaking. They've turned up in droves to see if she turns up again. so… will she?

BUDDY: She might… she just might…

INT. STAGE - NIGHT

Buddy walks on to the stage, carrying his case and stool. He sets the case on the floor next to the stage and starts his act.

BUDDY: What’s the smallest piece of stationery you can get? A PINcel sharpener! 

Somebody boo’s.

BUDDY: What would Doctor Who be if he lived under the sea? A brine lord!

Another boo from the crowd.

BUDDY: What is it when you throw a cat back at someone? A recatipulated catapult!

CROWD - MIXED VOICES: BOO! Get OFF the stage!! Where’s your mum?!

Everyone laughs at this last comment.

SUITCASE (Buddy jostles the suitcase with his foot. The voice is just like his mothers!): BUDDY!!

The audience goes silent. Everyone looks to the back of the room. No one is there.

SUITCASE: Buddy! Let me out!

Mr O’Flattery puts the club lights on.

SUITCASE: Let me out of this fucking suitcase!

Laughter from the audience. Buddy picks the suitcase up with some difficulty.

BUDDY: Oh shit. I’m for it now!

More laughter. Buddy opens the suitcase, whips out the caricatured puppet of his mother. Cheers from the audience.

MOTHER PUPPET: Who the hell are they, Buddy? This isn’t some kind of orgy, is it? Why can’t you live a normal life like that Mr O’Fattery over there.

A bout of laughter. O’Flattery laughs from the side of the stage.

BUDDY: Muuuum… Don’t say that, it’s Mr O’Flatterly.. I mean, O’Flattery!! You’re going to get me fired!

MOTHER PUPPET: Just when you’re finally getting an audience? This must be the first time they’re laughing WITH you rather than at you…

More laughs.

MOTHER PUPPET (to the audience): I’m so glad you’re here though. I’ve been very worried about him. For years I’ve thought there was something wrong with him… but he’s finally got wood AND been able to give someone else a really good fingering.

BUDDY (feigning embarrassment): Muuuum…

FADE OUT:

MONTAGE

Clips of Buddy performing over a series of nights; the audience getting larger. Always performing with MOTHER. Mr O’Flattery beaming wide, counting the money; Buddy getting paid more and more money.

MOTHER PUPPET: Clean out your room! It’s like a rat's nest!

BUDDY: I’m not surprised. You won’t let me out of the basement and the rats don’t want to share!

MOTHER PUPPET: Are you one of those mono-sexuals?

BUDDY

Only if my right hand counts!

CUT TO:

INT. COMEDY CLUB BAR - NIGHT

Buddy is relaxing at the bar when a very attractive woman walks up to him. 

MANDY: I love your act… you’re so funny!

MOTHER PUPPET VOICE: Watch out for this one… she looks like a gold-digger.

BUDDY: She’s not after your gold-fillings, mum. Shut up!

MANDY (laughs): You’re so funny! Maybe we can go out sometime?

CUT TO:

MONTAGE

Buddy and Mandy walking together, happily. Buddy throws his voice at different times.

CUT TO:

INT. THEATER - EVENING

Buddy sits with Mandy in the more expensive seats. He winks at Mandy.

BUDDY (Throwing his voice, at no one in particular): Hey, Baldy! Shush! Just zip it!

Everyone turns to look at each other, as does Buddy.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE PARK - MORNING

Mandy and Buddy are sitting down eating sandwiches next to a pond. Buddy is talking to Mandy about his puppets having dry rot. 

MANDY: What? Did you say something, Buddy? I wasn’t listening… 

She points to an elderly couple that’s about to walk past.

MANDY: Go on… here’s your chance! Get them! Make them think they’re hearing voices.

Buddy sighs. The penny has dropped.

CUT TO:

INT. COMEDY CLUB STAGE - NIGHT

Buddy is on stage with his mother puppet. There is another suitcase on the floor next to him. Mandy is in the audience. All of a sudden the routine just stops. The mother puppet just looks at Buddy and then down at the audience.

MOTHER PUPPET: Ok, where is she? Where is the cradle snatching, money grabbing whore?

The audience are holding their breath in anticipation. This is something new. 

SAMMI PUPPET: How dare you!

Buddy reaches down with his other hand. Opens the suitcase and another puppet is produced. This is Sammi; a very rude caricature of Mandy. Mandy gasps in horror.

SAMMI PUPPET: You miserable old windbag! You termite ridden harridan!

MOTHER PUPPET: Buddy! Are you going to let her get away with that?

BUDDY: What can I do? I haven’t got any hands free!

The audience is laughing hard now. Mandy is sobbing and gets up. She walks away crying. Buddy doesn’t notice her. The Sammi puppet does though and jiggles up and down, as if it's laughing.

CUT TO:

EXT. COMEDY CLUB EXTERIOR - NIGHT

A large, gaudy poster of Buddy holding the mother puppet. “THE BUDDY SHOW!” and then in smaller letters: “Comedy is not the only thing that's wooden!”

CUT TO:

INT. COMEDY CLUB STAGE - NIGHT

Buddy is on stage. On one hand is the Sammi puppet. On the other is a new creation; a crude version of Buddy. 

The puppet of Buddy is on the left hand; Sammi on the other. They are on either side of Buddy and can’t see each other. The Buddy puppet peers over to Sammi and when the Sammi puppet peers back he disappears behind Buddy, embarrassed.

SAMMI PUPPET: Are you interested in ornithology?

BUDDY PUPPET: I’m not sure, why?

SAMMI PUPPET: Because I’d love to see your little woodpecker!

Both puppets ‘kiss’ and get ‘naked’. They start having sex.The audience is a little bemused by this. The humping becomes more strenuous then:

SAMMI PUPPET: Buddy?

BUDDY PUPPET: Whaaat?

SAMMI PUPPET: Why does your mum hate me?

BUDDY PUPPET: She doesn't, sweetie. She just doesn't understand you.

SAMMI PUPPET: That’s alright then.

The rhythm resumes its intensity. It suddenly stops again.

SAMMI PUPPET: Buddy?

BUDDY PUPPET: What now?

SAMMI PUPPET: I was thinking… Maybe we should get married?

BUDDY PUPPET (looks at audience): Well, I’ve lost wood!

CUT TO:

INT. DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Buddy is alone in his dressing room. It’s a large one now. The door slams open. His mother enters, enraged. She’s holding the puppet of herself.

BUDDY'S MOTHER: What the hell is this, Buddy? What do you call this? What is happening?

Buddy’s mother slams the door behind her. She throws the puppet at Buddy.

BUDDY: Be careful with that?

BUDDY'S MOTHER (shouting): Be careful? What about me? Do you know what other people are saying about me? They think it's all outrageously funny and obviously thought I knew about it!

Buddy’s mother is enraged. Buddy gets up and tries to get away.

Buddy’s mother goes to grab him by the lapels but he pushes her away. She slaps him hard against the cheek.

BUDDY'S MOTHER: Stand still, boy! You’re such a selfish brat; I can’t believe I’ve looked after you all this time! And this is what you do to me!

Buddy is backed into a corner now and rubs his cheek where he was slapped. He tries to ward his mother off but she lunges for him again. 

Buddy pushes her back hard and she stumbles.

Buddy looks to the make-up table and sees a pair of nail scissors. He brandishes them against her.

BUDDY (in his Buddy puppet voice):That’s it! I can’t stand it anymore! You’re for the wood chipper!

Buddy starts stabbing his mother with the nail scissors. She screams out, falls and blocks the door. Buddy just keeps stabbing. There are knocks on the door from Mr O’Flattery.

MR O'FLATTERY: Hey! What’s going on in there?

BUDDY: I’m just rehearsing for the next show!

MOTHER PUPPET: Oh no you’re not!

BUDDY PUPPET: Shut up! It’s not funny!

BUDDY'S MOTHER (interrupting with a scream):Help! He’s really killing me!

BUDDY: Shut up! Why won’t you fucking die!

Mr O’Flattery tries pushing the door but Buddy’s mother is still blocking it.

MR O'FLATTERY: I’m getting the police!

BUDDY PUPPET: You’re for it now!

CUT TO:

INT. OUTSIDE THE DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

The police are outside the dressing room. They pound on the door.

BUDDY PUPPET VOICE: I told you! I’m rehearsing!

POLICE: Open up, or else we’ll have to break down the door.

Buddy opens the door. He stands to one side. The police walk in. There is a large suitcase in the corner. There is a trail of  blood leading to it. The suitcase is almost closed. Arms and legs protrude from it.

BUDDY: Look at it this way. I’ve got perfect material for the comeback!

FADE OUT:

Dab Hands - an original screenplay

INT. MAIN HOUSE, DANCEFLOOR - NIGHT

A small island, similar to Brownsea Island. Tonight it’s cut off by a storm. An elegant Georgian house with several large windows and two huge patio doors. A sombre version of Glenn Miller’s “In The Mood” plays. Seven people sit around, staring into space as the rain patters on the window. They seem lethargic and bored.

No one seems that interested in what is happening outside. They ignore the storm. The lights flicker. They ignore that too. The lights go out. The patio doors are suddenly pushed open and 3 women and 4 men stagger in. They are all soaked and wearing life-jackets. The seven people suddenly get up as the music starts the last refrain.

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD:  DAB HANDS (The music suddenly changes to the normal speed and key)

CUT TO:

INT. LOUNGE - NIGHT

Everyone has moved into the large lounge area. The lights are back on now. All the women have been given blankets and towels to dry themselves off. They are drinking tea or coffee. The men are still sodden but drinking either whisky or brandy.

GRANT: I never even knew you could get ship-wrecked in the UK….

RACHAEL: I would hardly call it ship-wrecked… Ryan just proved once again that he had no idea what he was doing!

SASHA: Didn’t stop you following him though. You didn’t try to help out. If you knew what you were doing we would never have capsized.

RACHAEL: I was never in favor of this in the first place!

JON: You’re always so quick to blame others. When are you going to take responsibility for your own actions?

The 6 older people look at each other. They seem to have been forgotten about in the melee. Zoe takes the lead.

ZOE: As long as you’re all ok though. That’s the main thing.

JAMIE: Yeah; it’s such a vicious night, I’m surprised you managed to find us!

RYAN: We saw your lights from the shore. We’re sorry about smashing the windows when we came in like that. 

IAIN: We’ll pay for everything that we broke. We’re just grateful for you.

HELEN: Turn the other cheek, why don’t you. You don’t have to turn everything into a sermon!

GRANT: Not now, Helen. Get off your soapbox. 

(to the residents)

GRANT:  wonder if we could use your phone, or if we could possibly have a change of clothes. Everything we own is on the yacht.

LIZ: I’m afraid that the phone line is out, due to the storm. There’s not much electricity either, this building is on a back-up generator which is independent of the rest of the island…

ALISTAIR: …I’m sure we’ll be able to help you get into warm clothes though. They might not fit properly and won’t be in your fashion but between us we can sort you out. I think it’s best that we split up and put one or two of you up for the night. We might have a bit of tucker that you can help yourself to, if you like?

RACHAEL: That would be lovely; thank you so much. Is it just yourselves on this island?

ZOE: Well, there’s normally more of us but this is off-peak… apart from the six of us there’s only Deidre and Ronald; but they live on the other side of the island. They tend to keep to themselves really…

IAN: Well, how do you want to split yourselves up? Who’s who?

GRANT: Sasha and Jon are a bit of an item…

ZOE: You can come with me if you like… It’s a little cottage with an allotment. You’ll find it very homely.

SASHA: Yes, I felt you were a very earthy woman. 

ZOE: Thank you… I think… Off we go.

Zoe walks off with Sasha and Jon. Rachael looks at Grant and rolls her eyes. As Zoe leads Sasha and Jon down the driveway, they take a left turn beyond the courtyard. 

Helen walks with Liz and they walk out the front door and turn right. The storm has died down now. 

Rachael and Grant walk with Victoria and Alistair and follow the track straight ahead.  Iain goes with Gordon.

IAIN: Peace be with you!

Everyone ignores him. Iain follows Gordon down the driveway. The door closes behind them. Their voices carry back across the courtyard.

GORDON: You’re not religious, are you?

IAIN: I’m born again.

GORDON: Of course you are.

It is now just Jenny and the two men left. 

IAN: Guess that’s time for me. Good night, the pair of you.

Ian walks away down the hall. Ryan is left with Jenny. He has been eyeing her all night. He follows Jenny up stairs. 

CUT TO:

INT. MAIN HOUSE HALLWAY - NIGHT

Jenny and Ryan are standing in an upstairs hallway. There are three doors. The closest is a spare room which Jenny points to.

JENNY: It’s not much, but it will do for you.

RYAN: What happens if I get lonely?

JENNY: There’s some stuffed toys on the bed that will keep you company; should you need some creature comfort. Good night.

Jenny walks away into her room, diagonally opposite Ryan’s room. Ryan walks into his room and shuts the door.

CUT TO:

INT. ZOE’S LOUNGE - NIGHT

Sasha and Jon sit on the sofa. Zoe sits in the lounge chair opposite.

ZOE: I’m an early riser so I’ll try to be careful when I come down for breakfast. 

SASHA: Don’t we get a bed? It’s been a helluva night… I think I might need some loving, if you know what I mean… 

ZOE: You’re here under sufferance. I’m not all that prim but I gather that the two of you are not married. I will not have you acting like a…. What do you call them? Hoe? In my cottage, thank you very much. The sofa is quite comfortable and I hope you both have a good night's sleep. Good night.

Zoe gets up and walks up the stairs, leaving Jon and Sasha grinning mischievously at each other.

JON: Lovely… You really have a great way with words, Sash! I thought she would never go.

SASHA: I thought she would have more empathy. There’s nothing in her at all.

JON: Talking of being in someone.

Jon leans across Sasha and starts stroking her breasts whilst kissing her neck. Sasha moans and then stops herself and Jon abruptly.

SASHA: We can’t do it here. What if she hears something?

JON: She might want to join in!

SASHA: God, she must be sixty and a day! She’s ancient!

JON: Don’t you want to get freaky?

SASHA: Not with someone that close to death! How about we do it in the potting shed?

JON: That sounds evil! We’ll be doing our own potting! Let’s do it!

Sasha and Jon walk out of the lounge, and outside. They cross the small courtyard and walk into the potting shed.

CUT TO:

INT. ZOE’S POTTING SHED - NIGHT

There are lots of rickety tables with rows of pots and flowers. Watering cans and rows of tools hanging on various hooks. There’s a few pairs of gardening gloves near the door and a pair of weighty wellington boots and a yellow sou'wester with a yellow waterproof hood.

Sasha and Jon start to undress. They move a couple of the bags of peat on to the floor to create a make-shift bed. They then drape their clothes on it so it’s not cold or damp to the touch. Sasha drapes herself on the peat bed and entices Jon. Jon leans into Sasha and kisses her deeply. He then mounts her.

CUT TO:

INT. ZOE’S POTTING SHED DOOR - NIGHT

The potting shed door opens quietly and someone walks in. Sasha and Jon can be heard fucking. It’s lurid and undignified. The person puts on the sou’wester and pulls over the hood. They put the gardening gloves on and walk quietly to the tool rack. They pick up a hoe and walk over to the pair loudly humping on the peat.

The person brandishes the hoe as they stand over the writhing bodies. They swing the hoe down in a hard chopping motion and severs Jon’s head. They then chop down several times in rapid succession before Sasha can even scream.

CUT TO:

INT. JENNY'S GUEST ROOM - NIGHT

Ryan is sitting on the bed, stripped down to his y-fronts. There is a dressing gown hanging on the door. He gets off the bed, walks to the door and snatches the dressing gown.

RYAN: Fuck this. I’m horny.

Ryan walks out of the guest room and knocks on the door to Jenny’s room. Jenny opens the door and Ryan just pushes through.

CUT TO:

INT. JENNY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

There is a large bed in the middle of the room. In the far corner is another door to an en suite bathroom. The door is shut. Jenny is being co-erced back into the room and is pushed back on the bed. She whimpers.

JENNY: No… please don’t. I don’t think you understand.

RYAN: It’s very simple, tits. You and me; three minutes to heaven and back.

Ryan walks around the bed, like a hunter. He takes the robe off. Behind him the bathroom door opens. There is a light on. It’s suddenly switched off. Ryan doesn’t notice.

RYAN: We going to do this the easy way or the hard way?

Ryan is about to get on to the bed when he’s tapped on the shoulder. He turns around. Ian is standing there. Ian punches Ryan hard in the stomach and then knees Ryan in the groin.

IAN: Let’s make this the hard way. 

Ian pushes Ryan, who is still doubled up in pain. Ian takes Ryan by the scruff of the neck and almost carries him into the hall. Ian drags Ryan down the stairs, so quick that Ryan can not get to grips with what is happening. Then they are at the front door. Ian opens the door and throws Ryan out.

IAN: We open our home to you and this is how you repay us?

RYAN: What about my clothes? I’m going to freeze out here!

IAN: You should have thought of that before you tried to rape my wife. You wanted it the hard way… I don’t want to see you any more. Come anywhere near this place again tonight and I will make it permanent and there are plenty of places I can hide a body!

Ryan sticks his finger up at Ian before running away into the drizzling night.

CUT TO:

INT. GORDON’S HOUSE - NIGHT

Gordon is begrudgingly showing Iain where he’ll be sleeping for the night. He opens the door and looks into the room. He notices something.

IAIN: I’m sorry, Gordon; but do you have a Bible I can read? I always read the Bible before I go to bed.

GORDON: Do I look as if I’ve got a Bible? The answer is no. I don’t. You’ll have to go without. Abstinence is good for you, after all. 

Gordon laughs as he walks away into his own bedroom. Iain looks as the door shuts.

IAIN (To himself): Strange man… Fancy not having a Bible… Wait a minute. I know where I can get one. We left out bags in the hotel; maybe there’s one there.

Iain walks out of his bedroom, down the stairs and braves the drizzle.

CUT TO:

EXT. GORDON’S GARDEN - NIGHT

Iain can’t tell which way he’s going. Gordon doesn’t have a pathway as such, just a succession of stepping stones leading in a snake-curve pattern. Iain is walking on the lawn when he hears someone walking behind him.

IAIN: Is that you, Gordon?

PERSON IN SOU'WESTER: Turn the other cheek to this!

Iain turns around to see someone standing behind him wearing a sou-wester and brandishing a croquet mallet. They swing the mallet and crack Iain’s head hard, knocking him down.

CUT TO:

EXT. GORDON’S LAWN - NIGHT

Iain opens his eyes to rain falling heavy on his prone body. He tries to move his arms but pain shoots through all of his limbs. There are croquet hoops driven through his wrists and ankles so he can not move. He is splayed out, as if on the cross but on muddy grass. There is a croquet hoop covering his throat and he is having trouble breathing. The rain is entering his mouth and he starts coughing. He tries shouting for help but his vocal cords go into spasm and his mouth shuts tight. As he looks about he can see someone standing close to him. They are still wearing the Sou’wester and they walk closer, holding the croquet mallet loosely. The person stands over Iain before walking away, leaving him to his fate.

CUT TO:

EXT. JENNY & IAN’S GARDEN - NIGHT

Ryan is running, naked, through the garden trying not to slip. He can hear dogs barking in the distance. He stops and listens. The dogs are getting closer. He starts running again. He slips and falls a couple of times. The dog barks are getting closer. It’s still raining and the visibility is poor. He doesn’t see the edge of the cliff until it’s too late. Ryan falls over the cliff. The two Alsatian dogs peer over the cliff with the tongues lolling and tails wagging. They walk away.

CUT TO:

INT. VICTORIA & ALISTAIR'S COTTAGE - MORNING

Rachael wakes up in her own room. Sunlight is streaming through the curtains. It’s a fine day. She gets dressed and looks at her watch. 

She knocks on the dividing door to see if Grant is awake.

GRANT: Yeah; I’m awake and decent.

Rachael opens the door and walks in. Grant is sitting on the bed.

RACHAEL: That’s never stopped me before.

Rachael sits on the bed next to Grant and kisses him on the cheek.

GRANT: Today’s different. It wouldn’t be right. 

Grant kisses Rachael on the lips.

GRANT: Besides, something feels… wrong. I can’t put my finger on it…

SCREAM from outside

Grant and Rachael dash to the window. They see Helen running up the path, sobbing her heart out. Rachael and Grant run out of the room.

CUT TO:

EXT. VICTORIA & ALISTAIR'S GARDEN - MORNING

Helen is nearly at the front door when Victoria opens it. Helen falls into Helen’s arms and cries. She is distraught. Victoria tries to comfort her.

VICTORIA: There, there. It’s alright, pet. Everything will be alright.

HELEN: You don’t understand. Nothing is ever going to be alright. He’s dead!

Rachael and Grant run outside and seek to comfort Helen.

RACHAEL: Dead? Who’s dead, Helen?

HELEN (sobs): Iain is!

Victoria (looks shocked): He can’t be!

HELEN (almost hysterical): He’s on the grass! I found him dead on the grass over there! He’s got things rammed into his feet and hands! He’s dead, I tell you!

GRANT: Show us where he is.

Helen leads Grant, Rachael and Victoria to where Iain is splayed out on the croquet lawn. Victoria, who has been disturbed by Helen’s outburst looks more relaxed and calmer when she sees it’s Iain that’s dead.

CUT TO:

INT. VICTORIA & ALISTAIRS LOUNGE - MORNING

Helen is asleep on the sofa whilst Grant and Rachael sit on a sofa opposite her. Victoria is kneeling over Helen using a warm cloth to soothe Helen’s brow.

VICTORIA: Poor love; she’s had such a time of it.

Alistair walks into the lounge, shaking his head.

ALISTAIR: Bloody phone lines are down still. There’s so many good reasons to live on this island but this isn’t one of them!

GRANT: We can’t help Iain now, but we need to find Ryan; Sasha and Jon. They’re probably fine, but in the light of what’s happened to Iain for all we know there’s a maniac around.

VICTORIA (looks shocked and hurt): That’s lovely. We all put you up for the night and you turn around and make accusations like that.

ALISTAIR: Now, Pet. Don’t be like that. I’m sure that’s not how Grant meant it.

(looks at Grant)

GRANT: (Pauses and then shakes his head): No… Of course not. 

RACHAEL: For all we know, Ryan could have done it.

Grant looks at Rachael askew. Alistair is still staring at Grant.

ALISTAIR: Don’t you think you should apologise to Victoria then? For making such an accusation?

Grant looks to Rachael. Rachael nods minutely.

GRANT: I’m sorry if what I said offended you, Victoria.

VICTORIA: That’s alright; it’s been difficult for all of us. What are you going to do now?

RACHAEL: I think we need to find the other three. 

ALISTAIR: We need to split up then; cover more ground.

RACHAEL: I think that’s a bad idea. We don’t know what’s happened to the others. If we split up, and it is… Ryan, who knows what could happen.

GRANT: I think Alistair is right. He and Victoria can search one side of the island. You and I can search the other.

VICTORIA: I think it’s best that I stay with Helen, just in case she wakes up. Alistair can stay with Rachael and look after her if Ryan turns up. Grant can search the far side of the island. He can pop into Deidrie and Ronald's cottage. Something may have happened to them in the interim!

ALISTAIR: I had forgotten about them in the melee. Would you mind, Grant? Rachael can look after me as we check to see if Zoe, Jenny and Ian are ok.

Rachael nods. They all get up, pair off and head outside, leaving Victoria still kneeling over Helen.

CUT TO:

EXT. ZOE’S COTTAGE - MORNING

Rachael and Alistair walk up the garden path. Zoe is waiting at the front door and smiles at them both.

RACHAEL: Morning. It’s imperative that I know whether Sasha and Jon are awake… Have you seen them this morning?

ZOE: No. I saw them last night before I went to bed. Why, what happened?

ALISTAIR: Iain’s been found dead.

ZOE (momentarily shocked): Ian?

(Calms herself when Alistair coughs)

ZOE: Was it an accident? Things can happen if you’re not careful at night, if you go wandering in the wet. Was that all that happened? What about Deidr…

RACHAEL: (interrupts) It was no… accident. Look, I just want to see if Sasha and Jon are ok.

ZOE: I think I heard them in the potting shed last night. They were… doing things there… 

CUT TO:

INT. VICTORIA’S LOUNGE - MORNING

Helen wakes up and rubs her eyes. She looks around her and realises where she is. She remembers Iain’s body and sobs. She pulls herself together though and gets up. 

HELEN: Hello? Is there anyone there?

FEMALE VOICE: I’m in the kitchen, dear. Are you ok or are you still feeling a bit tender? 

Helen walks out the lounge door and into the hall. The kitchen door is shut.

HELEN: It’s still too much to take in. I can’t believe he’s dead.

FEMALE VOICE: I’ll make you a lovely cup of tea. One lump or two?

Helen opens the door and walks into the kitchen. 

CUT TO:

INT. VICTORIA’S KITCHEN - MORNING

There on the large oak table is Iain naked, laid out with his arms and legs falling over the sides. Holes in his hands where the croquet hoops were. Helen can’t scream. She is about to turn around when she is hit hard twice on the side of the head by a meat tenderising hammer. She falls down on the floor next to the table.

FEMALE VOICE: Two lumps it is then…

CUT TO:

INT. ZOE'S POTTING SHED - MORNING

Rachael walks into the potting shed with Zoe and Alistair behind her. As she walks in she sees two large aluminium shelving racks that have been covered up with green, plastic wrap. There’s a pool of liquid puddled beneath. 

RACHAEL: No… no…

Rachael walks up and unzips one. There are a variety of seed trays and pots. Most of them have green shoots and flowers growing out of them. 

Rachael scans each shelf looking for the source of the liquid. On the middle shelf are ten small pots. 

In each of the pots is either a finger or toe, each one painted black. Rachael chokes back a sob. She unzips the other and there, on the middle shelf, are eleven pots.

ZOE: From little acorns grow great oaks. I wonder what we’ll get from those two?

ALISTAIR: I dread to think!

CUT TO:

EXT. OPEN LANDSCAPE - MORNING

Grant is walking purposely. There are footprints still showing on the grass where Ryan ran the previous night. He walks quickly, following them he comes to the cliff edge. He looks down, being careful not to lose his footing. He sees Ryan’s body and shakes his head in dismay.

CUT TO:

INT. ZOE’S POTTING SHED - MORNING

Alistair and Zoe block the doorway to the potting shed. Rachael is standing in between the two racks trying to keep her composure.

RACHAEL: You bastards! You killed them!

ZOE: (Looks to Alistair) Does she mean me? I could never have done that!

Rachael looks quickly around her. She sees a canister of slug repellent as Alistair walks up to her. He tries to grab hold of her arm. Rachael throws the slug repellent into this face and pushes him to one side. She grabs a three pronged cultivator as she dashes away. Zoe lets her run off.

ZOE: She won’t get far…

CUT TO:

EXT. DEIDRE & RONALD'S COTTAGE - MORNING

Grant runs up to the cottage and knocks on the door. Deidre opens it and is shocked to see Grant in such a state.

GRANT: You’ve got to help me. There has to be a telephone around here or a means of contacting the mainland.

DEIDRE: Come in… come in… of course, let me help you.

Deidre shows Grant into their lounge and sits him down.

DEIDRE: You look terrible. You need a drink. Tell me what’s happened.

Deidre walks to the sideboard and uncorks a bottle. She pours a generous measure into a glass and gives it to Grant who accepts it. He drinks it back and splutters a bit. 

GRANT: Ryan… dead.. And Iain before that… I don’t know how Ryan died, but Iain was murdered… so maybe so was Ryan… I just can’t take it in. I need a phone!

Deidre refills his glass. Grant drinks it again. Deidre sits on the sofa next to Grant and strokes his arm in comfort. 

DEIDRE: You poor thing. You’re in shock… it will be alright.

Grant tries to get up but can’t. His head goes light. 

GRANT: What’s wrong with me?

DEIDRE: It’s ok… it’s alright. Let mummy look after you like I looked after the others.

Deidre strokes Grant's face and arms; down his body and then his thighs. She strokes the inside of his thighs. Grant is unable to stop her. Deidre strokes his groin area.

DEIDRE: Oh, you are going to be tasty… Just like all the rest.

Grant pushes Deidre away, horrified and shakily gets up, out of the lounge chair. He turns around and is confronted by Ronald who is holding a boning knife. At his side are two Alsaitan's.

RONALD: Just think what we can make of him. Look! He’s still got some fight in him!

Ronald pushes Grant down easily. Grant falls on the floor and as he looks at Ronald he sees Rachael standing just behind him, grasping the three-pronged cultivator.

Rachael stabs the cultivator into Ronald's neck several times. Blood spurts out, covering the dog's fur.

RACHAEL: He’s not the only one…

Rachael looks at Deidre.

RACHAEL: Don’t you fucking move. Stay right where you are, bitch.

DEIDRE: I intend to, dearie. But just you turn around. 

RACHAEL: Do you really think I’m that stupid?

Grant looks to the lounge window. Zoe, Liz, Jenny and Ian are standing outside, waiting. Rachael turns to look as well and her hand goes limp.

DEIDRE: You’re not our first meal ticket. We’ve done it so many times before, dear. We’ve become dab hands at it…

FADE OUT:

Effects of a cause

It’s hard to take karma seriously when one is hanging by a thread; suspended, upside down, by a seatbelt. A lifetime of good deeds means nothing when your wife and baby daughter are indistinguishable from the tortured mess of bloodied steel, crushed aluminium and calloused plastic. The lights were in his favor; he had done everything right. Mirror, signal and then crash. The car didn’t even have its headlights on, at this hour!  He found it hard to breathe; hard to believe it had ever happened. Yet the world was now upside down and streaked with crimson pain as everything hurt; it was impossible to tell where it hurt more. He couldn’t move anything, just hang limply; the acrid petroleum sweetness burnt his nose and eyes. At first there was a sound of rushing; a mechanical sound of blood coursing through and out his body and then he saw two dots suspended in the darkness, just hanging there like him. In the distance but coming closer, fast. Too fast. It wasn’t blood he was hearing but combustible engine death. A stacked Russian roulette pistol with no way out except to join the two loves of his life.

At what stage do you take umbrage at randomness? In front, at the junction, another light that was getting ready to red-shift.  She’d been the victim of every red light that Brighton had to offer. Every crap decision from every arse who ever thought today was the day for a Sunday drive.. ON A TUESDAY MORNING! All the bastard cyclists who made up their own rules, wore their own judge, jury and executioner by way of a helmet-mounted camera and wouldn’t let you forget it. All the pedestrians who ignored the traffic lights completely as if they had absolute right of way over everyone else. It wouldn’t normally be a problem; she was a patient woman, she had to be. 

But her mother; hated though she might be… was still the woman that ‘raised her’;  was in hospital and in pain, and needed her. Where was she? Stuck at the mercy of a thousand and one arseholes, bastards and cretins. She’d had enough; surely her mother deserved more.. Surely SHE deserved more than this karmic shit storm that contrived to keep her away. No more. Had she not been so single minded she might have been aware of the blue lights. All she saw was red. A crimson fret that obscured everything else except for the accelerator -she was going to beat the lights this time… and indeed she did. But the ambulance that crossed her path might have had a more important reason to be there; that is until she ploughed into it.

Watch out for the next step. Don’t take anything for granted. What do you get when you put the two together? He was a loner and had loved every minute up until now. He had just started a week's holiday and wanted to christen it by walking around Hartfield, the birthplace of Winnie The Pooh. (Part of the allure of being alone was not having to explain himself to anyone!) 

He had found a walk published in an old issue of the Mid-Sussex Times and had been following it for some time. It had been raining heavily but he was determined not to let that stop him -he could be very determined when it counted. There was also the major benefit that he hadn’t seen another soul all morning! Everything felt really damp underfoot and his boot had stuck a few times but it added to the fun.. Kind of. He had a walking pole with him which he used to test the ground in front of him every so often. He looked at the newspaper clipping, which had gotten a little damp and harder to read and stopped. 

Looking around he had trouble orientating himself. There was a shrinking feeling in his testicles which was more to do with his fear of getting lost than it did being damp and cold. By his reckoning there should have been a style… and fencing. But there was none of that and looking back he even had trouble discerning a path at all, let alone anything in front. It all looked a little too marshy. There was nothing to turn back to and rather than admit defeat he started walking forward at a quicker speed and forgot all about sounding out what was in front of him. 

Suddenly there was no solid ground at all, just a foul smelling mire that swallowed him up to his waist before he had a chance to swear. The cold foul wetness shocked him and was ravenous. Before he had a chance to struggle he was deeper still. What was worse, he couldn’t move his legs or feet; he was stuck and getting sucked further in. He shouted out as loud as he could but his cries were swallowed by the wind and rain. What was worse was he realised that no one knew where he was. He wasn’t due back at work until the following week. He was completely lost and still sinking. All this because he wanted to regain a part of his childhood and play pooh sticks. Winnie was indeed a shit!

Monday’s child is full of grace; and she was so proud of her son.  He was sleeping now; it had taken her a few hours of patient love and constant understanding. Cutting his first tooth, bless him. The room was cold; the furnishing bare and provincial but theirs. Hubby was working every hour God sent them and they wanted for little. They didn’t live extravagant lives but they didn’t want for nout. 

They were provided for and knew that their hardships would be worth it; it had been foretold, hadn’t it? The meek? Well, what were they? She couldn’t stop gazing at his little lordship’s pudgy face; so peaceful now. Many parents would have lost patience or ignored the tantrum and grizzling but how could they? When did they lose empathy? Or did they forget how long they had nursed them in the womb -did they think that their responsibilities ended once they were born? She wondered why many bothered having children in the first place; they couldn’t all be accidents! She looked out the window to the sodden High Street below. She had to remember charity; she had no right to judge others, after all she had not lived their lives… not that she wanted to. She was more than content. Her husband doted on her just as much as he did when they first met, if not more so. He was besotted with their son; the little miracle!

 She saw the petrol tanker on its weekly rounds and wished the driver well in this horrible weather. The roads were something awful this time of year but this driver didn’t seem to notice. He was either late or too cocksure of himself, for he was travelling far too fast for such a vehicle. She was transfixed by it all and it was only the sudden, horrific screech making the baby duet in sudden screeching disharmony that made her step away from the window. She was oblivious to the petrol tanker as it overturned; the back end rolling over, scraping across the curb until it crashed underneath her window, spilling five thousand gallons of petrol. Petrol vapors quickly got into the drains and exploded, sending flames belching forth and manhole covers ricocheting upwards. But she was never aware of any of that, save for the sound of a car backfiring, fractured glass and molten death that engulfed the room.

Turn the other cheek. Everyone is somebody else's brother. Did that make him Cain or Able? He had been given every opportunity to be a shit in his life. He had the talents, had the gifts and resisted them at every turn. He had resisted the Church because he wanted to find his own way and, quite frankly, felt that if one was going to turn to a work of fiction then the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy made far more sense. At least that was funny! He dabbled in the occult and spiritualism but realised that they simply traded in one lot of dogma for another -why did no one want to think for themselves? 

Whilst in the Spiritualist society he had been told he had ‘great powers’ and could either be a medium or a healer. He was intrigued but after going to the first lesson he was disgusted when the first thing they talked about was how much to charge the punters for their services. He walked out, never to return soon after. He’d been walking his own path now for a few years and it had been a really lonely one until recently. That was until he met her. She was sublime: cheeky, intelligent, independent and she also dug him! WOW… (she was stunningly beautiful as well, which went a long way). 

They had seen each other for coffee dates for the last three months; both of them wanted to take things slow to start with: she had been in damaging relationships and wanted this one to work. He was very taken back by this and felt exactly the same. Tonight was the night that he had been invited up to her flat. The first time he had been invited to see her on her own turf, so to speak, it seemed the heavens were aligning in his favor -if he believed in such a thing. It was hard not to though. Ok, he was no longer religious but there were other concepts, such as synchronicity, that did appeal to him. Meaningful coincidences… Thinking of a friend and they ring; that kind of thing. 

And it was those thoughts that were occupying his thoughts as he walked the last few blocks to her place. He’d finally found a parking space and, besides which, the walk would give him time to get his confidence up. He was so wrapped up inside his own transcendental thoughts, looking at the ground in front of him,  he hadn’t noticed the new friends that had suddenly walked up behind him. He was about two minutes away from her flat and looked ahead of him now. The man walked towards him briskly. He tried to avoid him but there were gentlemen either side of him so he couldn’t avoid a collision. Somehow it never happened; or at least not in the way he expected. The man to his right stepped aside and the other slammed into his shoulder as he walked past. “Arsehole.” were the only words he heard, but he felt something else. 

There was nothing in his experience that he could equate to the sensation. It was pain, but sudden, in his gut. A lightening quick, sharp shock and he involuntarily put his hand to the throbbing agony that now spread wetly through his stomach and down his clothes. He had been stabbed. He collapsed, like a drunken marionette and held out his other arm to her flat which was just a few feet away now. They hadn’t even bothered to stop, not even to cross to the other side. They hadn’t even taken anything from him… but at least he knew which brother he was now.

Life is random. If things go well and we survive then someone is watching out for us, or it is good karma. No. Nor do we live under a bad sign, or live wicked lives if things ‘happen’ to us. We try to attribute meaning to these events so we can sleep at night. God must be good; yet how many different religions are there? Can they all be right? If so then surely we must all be going to hell (or are we there already?) How is it we deserve the good things that happen to us but not the bad? Live as if there was no causality save what we bring to the table -there is no cause and effect. Just be aware of where you are; be in the right now because there isn’t any other.

Busman's Holiday

“The wheels on the bus go round and round” until Mr Sachs walked onboard and held the passengers and driver hostage. It was later that everyone else went “wah wah wah”.

1974: A Croatian flight attendant  survived a mid-air explosion in a 747 over Czechoslovakia. The plane broke apart at 33,000 ft and, trapped inside the tail section of the fuselage, she plummeted to earth with a food cart pinning her to the floor of the plane. It was this which saved her, acting like a seat belt. The fuselage struck a heavily wooded, snow covered mountain slope at just the right angle which cushioned the impact. In a later interview she stated that she felt she had been protected the whole time.

19.45. Thomas sits in the back of the bus, admiring Lynda. A distant but oh, so close yearning.  All the way from Midhurst to Guildford. Building up confidence to talk to her. But there could only be a few stops before she got out. The bus was pulling into the Park And Ride. Now or never. 

Mr Sachs had other ideas.  He calmly waits on the pavement by the bus stop. He doesn’t even wait for the other passengers to get off. His intentions perfectly clear.  And when the driver looks to the source of the disturbance he becomes face to face with an old comrade and a new threat..

“Frank… what’s up?”

“Shut the fucking doors”. Frank Sachs replies, pointing the gun at him. He  looks to the frightened passengers. There are ten people on the bus. It had been a long day for most of them and all were anxious to be somewhere else.  “Nobody screams or I shoot. It’s that simple.”

There were no screams. But as the first whispers became audible Frank Sachs walks down the corridor to explain the situation.

“It’s very simple.” Frank Sachs explains. “The bastards sacked me today. Apparently I’ve been ill one too many times for their liking and because I’m dispensably pale and single I have no rights. So we’re all going to sit on this bus until I get my job back. It’s very, very simple.”

Frank Sachs walks back to the driver, John Searle. “Did you do it by the book, John?” 

“What do you mean, Frank?”

“Pressed the panic button, of course. It’s what I would have done in your position… if I had a job, that is.”

“Yes, Frank. I did.”

“So you’re going to remain sensible, aren’t you, John?” John nods. Frank Sachs nods with him.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I will.” Frank Sachs looks John in the eye.

“I don’t think you will, Frank. Not with that anyway.” John replies. John thinks he knows Frank. He’d worked with him for years. John knew nothing.

“Which leg do you favor, John?”  John looks at Frank Sachs quixotically. “It’s ok. I know you’re a lefty.” Frank Sachs shoots John in the right knee. “Unlike the movies, John, there is no blood spatter. Neat, isn’t it?” John screams in terror and pain. The rest of the bus respond in sympathetic resonance until Frank Sachs warns them otherwise. “He’s not in any pain. It’s shock. Don’t believe all you see on television.” He turns to John. “That doesn’t look too bad. I guess I missed the artery, John.” Blood oozes from the wound, a crimson oil seepage. “Take your belt off and make a tourniquet. If you’re lucky you’ll survive the night yet!”

Lynda now sits next to Thomas. Thomas is calm, despite the situation, but he just couldn’t tell you why…..

1999: A Swedish medical student lost control skiing down a steep mountain in Norway and fell headfirst into a frozen stream. She became trapped beneath the ice but found a small pocket of air between the water and ice which kept her conscious for 40 minutes before going into cardiac arrest. The rescue team managed to cut her out 80 minutes later. Although clinically dead she was rushed to the University Hospital of North Norway where the Doctors used a heart-lung bypass machine to pump her frozen blood out, warm it up, before cycling it back into her body. The operation  took nine hours, but she woke up with no brain damage. Upon waking she described the feeling of someone watching over her.

20.10. The curse of modern life: nothing is sacred; no privacy. No common sense and no facts,  no informed opinion, just feelings. Things might have turned out differently had it not been for social media. The police were notified sooner than John’s panic button. One of the bus passengers already texted the police. “We are being held hostage by someone with an air pistol. Please help us.!!”  This was before John had been shot. 

The police arrived and surrounded the bus. They demanded Frank Sachs leave the bus. That demand was ignored, as was the demand to release the hostages. It was at this time that the cavalry turned up. The local press had been informed by another passenger; priorities and the chance of fame and notoriety trumped common sense and the desire to stay alive. At least two of the passengers were filming quite openly, cameras held high like beacons mourning self-respect and understanding. Frank Sachs seemed resigned to this and actively played up to this new found audience. His demands had not changed, he just wanted his job back.

Thomas and Lynda can only watch the morons hold their mobiles like sacrificial daggers, exacerbating the situation. Lynda has Thomas’s hand in hers. She could not tell you why except it feels right, as if she’s known him all her life.

1848: Phineas Gage was an American railroad construction foreman. He narrowly avoided a catastrophic brain injury when a 13lb, 3.5ft  tamping rod was blasted through his skull after an accidental explosion. It entered his left cheekbone and exited with such force that it went through the top of his head and landed 30 yards away. Unbelievably he survived this and, despite having a radically changed personality, he lived another 12 years. When asked how he managed to survive such an accident Gage is reported to have said that moments before the explosion he felt someone push him back a couple of steps.

20.20. The police did not take Frank Sachs seriously due to the hostage account regarding the air-pistol. They knew he could do some damage with such a pistol but it was just a waiting game. A base of operations had been set up in the reception area of the Park & Ride complex, near the toilets. No one investigated Frank’s situation, or his family. So when a man was caught trying to ‘break into the bus’ it was assumed he was another hijacker. The police were quick to tackle the man to the ground and use the taser on him when he tried to get up. Frank Sachs saw all this happening in horror. This was his brother, Bryan.

Bryan Sachs had seen everything unfold on the local news and had driven to the Park and Ride as quickly as he could.  He had not counted on such an oppressive police presence and hadn’t thought through the rationality of his actions until after feeling the tasers sting. Yet no matter how he tried explaining his situation no one would listen to him. Things became exacerbated when Frank Sachs personally contacted the police through his mobile phone. 

“Release Bryan or there will be one less hostage to worry about.”

“Frank. You must realise there is nowhere for you to go. We know that it's not a real gun. It’s an air-pistol. We even know what make and model it is… it’s a BRK Brocock Atomic XR!”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“I’ll release one of the hostages. I’ll show you I mean business.”

Lynda wants to be the one released and almost puts her hand up as if she is back in school, waiting to be relieved. Thomas stops her with a squeeze and a knowing gaze that captures her attention and keeps her calm. Her previous anxieties and crippling fear are gone and she watches the events unfold with a cool detachment. The girl with the mobile phone put her hand up and it was as if she had one top prize on a chat show. The crowd was awed by this gesture and everyone in the bus now felt hopeful. Frank Sachs allowed the door to open and waited until the hostage had passed the threshold. He then shot her calmly in the back of the neck, shutting the doors at the same time as her body fell limp, as if its contract had been cut. No one screamed. They could barely breathe.

“It’s no longer just an air-gun… it’s amazing what one can find on YouTube these days.. Like how to convert an air-gun so it can fire real bullets.” Frank Sachs said smugly. “You have two things to do. 1) Let me brother go. 2) Give me my fucking job back!"

Lynda looked at Thomas with incredulity. It could have been her.

20.50. It had never dawned on the police that they could easily have bluffed their way out of the situation. All it would have taken is one call to the bus company. One lie told by the manager. A fake contract drawn up and then once the hostages were released Frank Sachs’s story could have ended. But that isn’t what happened.

The police did comply in releasing Frank's brother but only because they had planned something else quite spectacular. The SWAT team was ready and would go in with smoke grenades, They had already managed contact with another passenger on the bus; so the next step was to smoke him out.Unfortunately the person they had managed to contact was the driver himself and therefore everything he knew about so did Frank Sachs.

1985: A British climber tried climbing down the 634 meter Sivla Grande in the Peruvian Andes during a blizzard. He slipped on a frozen cliff edge and plummeted 20 meters into a crevasse, landing on a frail snowbridge. He managed to probe deeper and deeper into the crevasse and eventually found a small opening onto the glacier. Over the next 3 days he was without food or water and suffered from intense hallucinations before finally being rescued.  One voice was constant through those hallucinatory times; it was one that told him to keep going, that everything was going to be alright…. And it was.

21.30. By using the smoke canisters, the assumption was that all the passengers would be on the floor, having been told to do so by the informant on the bus. Anyone left standing up would therefore be Frank Sachs and could be eliminated. The police shot a few windows out, threw smoke canisters inside before operating the ‘driver release’ handle on the side of the bus, next to the main door. The door popped open and they saw a silhouette of a man standing by the steering wheel. They took no chances and simply opened fire on the prone body. The body slumped onto the instrument panel. In the bus the other passengers remained deathly quiet. Two policemen walked to the body but neither of them had a chance to inspect it before they were both shot in the head by Frank Sachs.

Lynda wanted to scream and would have done it if not for Thomas. There was a serene look in his eyes. With a squeeze of his hand he motioned for her to be calm. And then he got out of his seat and walked behind Frank Sachs just as the smoke was lifting.

2001: The Canadian was used to scaling skyscrapers and was totally unprepared when he freescaled up the left wall of the Red River Gorge. It could have been, and should have been, a fatal miscalculation and he found himself stranded. The nearest handhold was completely out of his physical reach and his forearms were too full of lactic acid for him to climb back down. He felt a nudge to try something desperate; he knew he would make it: he released his grip entirely and launched himself upward into the air and caught the distant edge with his fingers and held on. Suffice to say he survived and made it back downstairs to tell the tale.

21.31. Frank Sachs heard a noise behind him. He was too preoccupied to understand what was  happening; he was now operating on adrenaline. He got up and turned to see what had made the noise. He was shocked to see Thomas walking slowly towards him with a beatific smile on his face. Frank Sachs first reaction was to shoot him dead but his hand was jolted by something as he fired. It was this muzzle flash that finally gave the snipers outside the bus something to target. Three of them took the fatal shot. Frank Sachs fell dead. Thomas had already fallen on the floor just seconds before the snipers opened fire. But to everyone else it must have seemed that Thomas had been shot multiple times at the same time as Frank Sachs.

Lynda rushed to his side, sobbing with confused emotions. Her life was now inextricably bound to this stranger. Less than three hours ago they had been two disparate people and now he had sacrificed his life for hers. Thomas heard Lynda’s sobs and opened his eyes. Despite the pain he looked into her eyes and smiled. “I’m absolutely starving. When this is all over how about a kebab?”

1999 : A disgruntled bus driver takes a bus and its passengers hostage for three hours with a converted air-pistol. Through poor communications and mis-understandings at least three people are killed. Just as things seem hopeless one of the passengers distracts the hijacker and almost pays the price.  By a pure fluke of fate the shot goes wild and rather than shoot him in the face the bullet goes right through the shoulder, missing all the major arteries. The passenger survives and jokes that his actions were down to a momentary lapse of reason. When pushed he states that he felt someone with him, guiding his actions. Eight months later he is married to the passenger next to him on the bus. That, he stated, was the real miracle.