“Hey! Thanks for locking up guys. See you tomorrow!” Will shouts from the middle of the street. It’s late at night and he’s just finished work at Skillet’s. He begins to set off for home, but as he walks down some steps by the waterfront, he gets the uneasy feeling of being followed. He hears footsteps, and stops, turning back to see who’s behind him, a perplexed look on his face. Although Will sees nothing yet, we see that there is someone following, or at least we get to see his stalker’s feet and legs. As will stops, the man behind him follows suit, remaining silent. Will continues on, but still isn’t satisfied. He alters his pace a little, but the man behind matches him. He keeps glancing back, occasionally stopping, and again his pursuer does likewise. He sets off again, still concerned, and sure that there is someone there, and the pursuer continues also. The whole thing continues on like this until suddenly, from behind, a man jumps out at Will, who’s too busy looking the other way to even notice. Getting Will in a vicious stranglehold, Will struggles with his assailant as he is dragged along into the street.
"Hey, I know
you!... Weren't you in
a couple of episodes of
Xena??"
The struggle continues until Will breaks
away, frantically, and turns to face his attacker.
Will’s expression of shock and anger swiftly changes to
one of shock and recognition; “Dad!?” he gasps.
“I thought I taught you how to fight better than
that,” is the man’s calm reply, as he folds his
arms and regards Will, who’s panting from the exertion;
“No!... No, what you taught me was... how to take a
punch and not complain.” He says, with no small amount
of resentment, “Hey! I was just testing your reflexes
like I used to!” comes the innocent reply, emphasised by
an open hand gesture. “Hey! That was five years ago. I
don’t need my reflexes tested anymore!” Will snarls
quietly, turning away from the man and starting to leave.
With a slight shake of his head, his father starts after him;
“Hey! Wait up a minute will you, Will?” he calls
after him, following him along the docks. Will continues to
walk, merely glancing back; “So, what is it this time,
Dad?” he asks cynically as his father catches up to him
and they both ascend another set of steps; commenting with no
small amount of resentment on whether he’s just passing
through on his way to hunting Snow Leopards; “or are you
poaching Elephants in Uganda for their ivory...” he
pauses and gives a cynical smile; “... just flat broke
and need a place to stay?” he adds, with a casual shrug,
stopping and facing his father. The man gives a small laugh;
“Well, actually, the thought of sitting in a high backed
porcelain tub soaking in hot water does sound rather
appealing right now!” he grins. Will gives a little nod;
“So, why don’t you get yourself a room at the
Southern Hotel right down the street?” Will gestures in
the direction of the hotel before turning back. This seems to
irritate his father a little; “Hey!... This your old man
you’re talking to. Remember me!?” He gestures
emphatically; “Won’t you show a little
respect?” Will pauses and looks down a little;
“Well... I’m showing you as little respect as
possible.” Will quips sardonically. His father just
shrugs as they walk off again; “You’re a tough one,
Will,” he concedes.
“No, really, what are you hunting, huh?” Will asks
genuinely as they continue walking together. “Actually,
I was hired to photograph some, ah, orchid.” he says
casually. Will stops in amazement and faces him;
“Orchid??” He seems perplexed; “Since when did
you hunt anything with a camera anyway?” he asks.
“Hmm, it’s a very special one. Blooms at night,
once a year, for about a week.” he explains, and Will
thinks for a moment. “White Moss Orchid?” he
suggests. “Yeah, that’s the one... Have you heard
of it?” This catches his father’s attention.
“Erm...It’s just a legend, Dad...” Will seems
a little evasive; “No-Nobody’s ever really seen
it,” he shrugs with a small, dismissive smile before
walking off away from the man. The man gives Will a curious
look, as though contemplating, and doubting Will’s
sincerity on that last comment; before he turns and follows.
Deep in the heart of the swamp, high in a tree, a solitary
white flower blooms in the branches. Below it, Alec looks up
at it in awe, and pity; “It must be very lonely being so
beautiful... and so solitary.” The empathy he must feel
for that solitude doesn’t go unnoticed. He gives it a
last, long look, before walking off.
"Graham...
Graham, I haven't been a very good
employer
to you, and I'd like you to except this as
a humble
token of my esteem for your valuable service!"
*OH
NO!!... It's one of those 6000 cheap homicidal orchids from
Taiwan
he overstocked on & has been trying to get rid of for
months!!*
Amidst a pile of yellow potted flowers, a hand picks out a single red orchid. It’s Dr. Arcane! “It has all the intrinsic qualities of a time bomb, Graham;” he explains, showing the plant to his assistant, who’s standing beside him. They are in the middle of his Houma nursery for exotic plants, “... and is completely natural,” he adds, raising an eyebrow excitedly and giving Graham a sly smile, as he begins to walk off. “You’re going to destabilise the government of a country with a plant!?” Graham looks perplexed, following Arcane for some explanation. “This plant, as you call it... is the result of years of very careful gene-splicing;” he explains with a great deal of personal satisfaction as they walk through the nurseries together; “One single Scarlet Moss Orchid can produce enough defoliant to completely decimate... a thousand acres of food crops;” he gives Graham an enthusiastic, gleeful grin; “Rice, for example!” he explains, before turning to look down at the flower in his hand; “The defoliant is triggered by....” “Whoa, whoa, whoa!...” Graham interrupts Arcane in mid sentence, walking in front of the scientist to stop him in his tracks; “What is going to keep this defoliant from spreading across the...the whole world, once it gets started?” Graham asks him with concern. Arcane looks at him, trying to muster some degree of patience; “An antidote!” he stresses his reply, with a slight hint of condescension and giving Graham a satisfied smile; “one in particular I have discovered, you see...” He seems to have this all nicely worked out as he pauses to look at Graham before confiding his plan and motives; “... That’s where the real money is!” Graham contemplates this, looking away for a moment; “That’s how you blackmail a nation!” Arcane continues with a vindictive and acquisitive expression on his face; “Introduce a poison...” He indicates the orchid to Graham, before circling round the man like a predator; “... and charge them dearly for the antidote.” his whole face lights up at the prospect as he walks away towards another section of the nursery. Graham follows.
ARCANE:
"Abigail... Abigail, I haven't been a very good
employer to you, and I'd like you to accept this humble
gift as a token of my esteem for your valuable work..."
ABIGAIL: "Gee, like thanks, Dr. Arcane!"
GRAHAM: *Sucker!!*
Arcane pushes his way through a clear plastic
partition to enter another area, where we see a familiar face
tending and pruning some plants, gently nurturing them.
“Abigail...” Arcane approaches her carrying the
orchid, and she turns to face him with an innocent smile;
“... I hear you do wondrous things with plants.” he
beams at her. “I just talk to them...” she says
innocently, turning lovingly to the plant she’s holding,
before giving Arcane her attention again; “... listen to
them.” she says sweetly. Arcane gives a somewhat bemused
and humouring look. Behind them, Graham’s watching the
pair of them with a sly grin. “Splendid!” he
enthuses; “... Well, I have a Scarlet Moss Orchid
here...” he tells her, putting the plant down on the
bench before her; “... a little depressed. Perhaps you
could tell it some happy plant stories?” She just
smiles, and Arcane turns to walk away, leaving the orchid
with her. As he goes, both he and Abigail give private facial
expressions that seem to suggest ‘what a fruit
loop!’ of each other.
Once back out in the main nursery area, Arcane stops and puts
his arm round Graham’s shoulder, bringing the man
closer. “This is turning out very well,” he says in
a subdued tone, putting his face closer to Graham in a
conspiratorial manner. Graham’s deep in thought. Arcane
gives a wry smile and they begin walking together again, as,
in the same hushed tone, he begins to continue clueing Graham
in on his plans;
As Arcane continued
to describe his diabolical plan,
Graham was still fixated on the 'cosy in our little beds'
bit...
“Now then... Tonight, while we’re
all cosy in our beds, our little orchid shall do what he does
best --” he gives Graham a satisfied smile as he stops
his walking; “ -- Kill... with extreme prejudice
--” Graham looks up at this, eyes widening, as Arcane
continues; “-- every test plant surrounding it.” He
whispers malevolently. Graham’s expression turns into a
broad grin, mirroring Arcane’s satisfaction. With a
comradely pat to his assistant’s shoulder, Arcane walks
away, with Graham following behind.
Back in the other area, Abigail looks concerned, tutting as
she examines the Scarlet Moss Orchid; “Are you all
right?” she asks it gently, and sighs, picking it up and
plucking away some of the Spanish moss in the pot with it.
“You don’t look like you’re doing very
well.” She gives it a loving smile and carries it to
another part of the room; “I’ll tell you what...
why don’t I go home... and I’ll mix up some
phosphate tonic...” she picks up a small plastic bottle
and looks at it, then back at the orchid again; “... and
we’ll get you better... OK?” she puts it back down
on the bench again; “and I’ll bring it back to you
later tonight.” she reassures it, before turning and
leaving.
At the Langford house, Tressa is hammering away on a boat,
repairing it. Unknown to her, a pale, cream coloured jeep
arrives and pulls up. Her back is still turned as Will’s
father gets out of the car and walks over to her, an
anticipatory look on his face. She’s oblivious to him,
still immersed in her boat repairs, as he sneaks up on her.
As she picks up a screwdriver and begins to open a panel, he
stands behind her, preparing to speak.
“I have seen a cinnamon mountain, and I’ve climbed
it’s craggy peaks!” he says, emoting in a somewhat
theatrical voice. She immediately stops what she’s
doing, her back still to him. Her face immediately shows
recognition and she stiffens... but there’s a slight
glow of warmth to her, and the tiniest wistful smile, which
swiftly disappears to be replaced by cold harshness. She
seems to pause and think for a moment before speaking,
resuming her work. She seems flustered, but is hiding it
well, and although she tries to speak, the words don’t
seem to come. It takes a few moments before she can utter
anything. “I only know one person who recites bad
poetry.” she quips. He says nothing, merely standing,
arms folded and still behind her. She tries to do her work,
but gives up. It’s clear she isn’t going to be
concentrating on any work. With a shrug, she throws the
screwdriver into the boat, collects herself, and turns to
face him with a broad, if somewhat forced smile; “You
must be lost --” she addresses him sardonically,
“-- this isn’t Malaysia!” He unfolds his arms
and approaches her casually. “Actually, I didn’t
stay long in Malaysia... I couldn’t find a good Philly
cheese steak to save my life.” he replies calmly,
looking at her. She looks downwards, in resigned
contemplation, before lifting her head and staring him in the
eyes. “You won’t find one here either!” she
says softly, but with no small amount of hostility and
bitterness tingeing her tone of voice. “Oh, that’s
all right. This’ll do instead,” he smiles, moving
round to face her, closing in for a romantic embrace. He
kisses her on the lips, but she doesn’t reciprocate. Her
face is pensive and hostile, her whole demeanour defensive,
“... and a good cup of coffee, if you can spare
one,” he adds, tenderly stroking the side of her face.
Her face seems to warm a little, and she give a small smile,
before it suddenly changes into an angry grimace as she grabs
him roughly. They suddenly begin to kiss passionately,
although it’s uncertain if she’s initiated it, or
is responding to him. Either way, she isn’t resisting.
A rare moment of
tenderness as Brydon
gallantly removes a zit from Tressa's face
Eventually, the break apart and look at one
another, sizing each other up; wondering what their thoughts
really are. She gives a little smile; “Still want that
coffee?” she asks, making it sound pretty enticing. He
looks around, almost embarrassed; “Actually, er... I
could use something a little stronger.” They look at
each other in silence for a few moment. “How you
been?” he eventually asks her, sounding genuinely
concerned. She pauses, gathering strength; “I’ve
been fine, Brydon!” she gives him an affirmative nod of
the head, “but you look a little shaky.” she
remarks, “why don’t you sit down and stay a
while?” she turns, and begins to move away, but he stops
her by touching her face softly again, turning it back to
him. “I’m not going to fall for that again,”
she tells him resolutely. “Some things you can’t
stop falling for,” he replies with a subdued confidence.
She closes her eyes, and he strokes her face lovingly. She
goes with it, nestling into his soft touch, a saddened smile
touching her face, emotions conflicting as she looks up and
gazes into his eyes; “I remember why I fell.” she
says softly. “I never forget,” is his tender reply,
with a slight shake of his head. She gives in to the emotions
overwhelming her, and they kiss again, long and passionately;
but this time she puts her arms round him in love.
Later that night, in the nursery, Abigail returns. She pushes
her way through the clear plastic partition and looks at the
Orchid with a loving smile; “I’m back!” she
announces to it, picking some more moss from it’s pot
and giving it a dismayed groan and a sad little look. Holding
up the bottle of red liquid: the phosphate tonic, she walks
away from the plant. “Just let me dilute this, and I
*promise* you, you’ll feel better by morning.” she
goes over to a lamp lit bench, where she begins to prepare
the tonic. Behind her, she’s unaware that the Orchid is
beginning to emit a white vapour from the centre of it’s
flower: The defoliant Arcane mentioned. She continues mixing
the correct amounts of phosphate into a glass beaker. The
Orchid continues to do it’s work. The entire atmosphere
is becoming eerie and menacing.
Out in the swamp, Alec becomes aware that something is very
wrong, and abruptly sets off to investigate.
Back in the nursery, Abigail’s finished diluting the
tonic and puts the jar back. Behind her, the Orchid is still
emitting defoliant gas. With the beaker in her hand and a
broad, cheerful smile, Abigail turns back to the flower...
With a gasp of shock she drops the beaker to the ground,
where it shatters. All around her, the plants are dying.
“What’s going on!?” she utters in horror and
surprise, surveying the devastation around her;
“Everything... e..everything’s dead!” She
can’t believe her eyes and goes back over to the bench
with the Orchid, which is the only living, thriving thing in
the midst of all this. As she bends over it to examine it,
she breathes in the defoliant vapour, and begins to gasp and
choke. Losing consciousness, she grasps the bench for
support, but it’s too much, and she collapses to the
ground, pulling the entire contents of the bench with her,
which land on top of the now unconscious woman in an untidy
heap.
Meanwhile, in the swamp, Brydon’s on the hunt, pushing
his way through the undergrowth. He keeps looking back, with
a disdainful look on his face. Eventually, he stops and turns
back; “You know you’re about as good at tracking as
a runaway subway in an art museum!” A few moments later,
Will arrives on the scene, catching up with him. “Yeah,
well we’re trespassing.” he retorts coldly.
“On whose property? What are you talking about!?”
Brydon snaps back. “Look... look --” Will mumbles,
going up to Brydon; “-- I’ve been trying to tell
you that sometimes in the swamp it gets... a little bit
dangerous. Brydon pauses for a moment, in exasperation;
“Will! I’m photographing a flower!” he argues,
telling him he isn’t arm wrestling a scorpion!
“Have you thought that maybe it blooms at night for a
reason!? I mean... maybe we shouldn’t be anywhere near
it!!” Will argues agitatedly, still talking subdued and
putting his hands on his hips and looking his father in the
eye. “I got a 200 mm lens --” Brydon argues back,
showing Will the 35 mm camera round his neck; “-- I
don’t need to be any closer than the worst seat in the
Superbowl!” Still with hands on hips, Will sighs and
turns away. Brydon tries to get through to him;
“I’m not going to breathe on your precious little
flower --” he assures emphatically, turning away from
Will to look in the directions he needs to be going; “--
now which way am I going!!? Left? Right?... or straight down
the middle!?!?” he gestures in the various directions.
He turns back to Will, who’s still standing with his
hands on his hips, and who just gives him a smarmy smile and
stays quiet. Brydon quits trying; “All right, fine!...
Right always works for me,” and he begins to set off.
Will watches him go, and is troubled. With a frustrated
gesture and a despairing shake of his head he sets off after
him, calling to him; “Dad!? Wh.. what.. what are you
doing this for!? I mean who.. who’s paying you
anyway?” They face each other and Brydon looks into his
eyes; “Look, Will... This is not about money!” he
says, putting a hand on Will’s shoulder; “There are
places in this planet where the name Brydon Kipp reminds
people of high mountains... that means something, kid!”
Will looks disenchanted with the whole thing; “To
you.” he replies. “Oh yeah --” Brydon retorts
after a pause, nodding his head; “-- and I think that
there are places in this swamp where the name Will Kipp
reminds people of safe, dry ground... am I right?” He
walks away, leaving Will to contemplate miserably.
“Dad!?” he calls to Brydon, after a long,
thoughtful pause, turning to his father, who stops and turns
back to him. “What!?” Brydon says irritably.
“You’re going the wrong way,” Will says
casually, with a gesture to indicate the right one; in a
voice that’s as near to camaraderie as is likely to get.
Brydon smiles broadly and heads back to Will. “I knew
that!” he quips flippantly, passing Will and continuing
the hunt. Will just tags on behind and follows him.
Abigail is still unconscious on the nursery floor when Alec
arrives. “I knew something was wrong!” he mutters
to himself, surveying the scene; “Arcane! What have you
done!?” he gasps, standing over the girl’s body.
Moving the dead plants aside, he bends down and picks Abigail
up and holds her in his arms, before carrying her off.
“You see, dad, it’s sorta hard to see sometimes
--” Will is quietly explaining to Brydon as they
continue their trek through the swamp, “-- see, the
White Moss grows up in the top of the Cypress --” he
continues his lecture, speaking in a hushed and reverend
tone; “ -- What you usually do is you look for a flower
underneath... lying in the mud.” Will comes to a stop,
and Brydon follows suit. He seems puzzled about something;
“Will, what are we whispering for?... Are you afraid
this flower’s going to fly away or something?” He
asks, as he fiddles with his camera, getting it ready. Will
is clearly very uncomfortable about the whole thing, and is
looking round agitatedly; “I just don’t want
anybody... s..somebody to hear us!” He whispers.
Meanwhile, that ‘somebody’ is already preoccupied.
Back at the Langford house, Alec arrives carrying the
unconscious Abigail. He steps up onto the porch with her, and
gently puts her down in the swing chair on the porch.
"So where's the
Orchid, Will?"
"Orchid, schmorchid!... I thought you wanted to
see Abigail skinny dipping... Got that 200mm lens
ready?"
Brydon’s still readying his camera while
Will glances around. “Dad!” he spots something, his
face breaking into a broad smile and patting his father on
the shoulder; “There it is. You see it?” he points
ahead. Brydon’s looking pensive though, as he stares
straight ahead at the beautiful white orchid in the top
branches of a Cypress. He gives a slow nod of affirmation and
slowly and determinedly reaches for something behind his back
as Will’s busy admiring the flower to notice him. Brydon
casually puts his left hand out to keep Will at a distance.
Suddenly, the hand lashes out and pushes Will away, as at the
same time, in one fluid movement, he takes out a small
handgun and aims it straight for the orchid. Three shots ring
out, aimed at the orchid’s roots, which hit their
target. “NO!!” Will screams, recovering and making
a grab for Brydon, but it’s too late. There’s a
slight struggle, but Brydon pushes him back, and they both
set off to see what’s happened to the flower.
Back on the porch at the Langford house, Alec is aware of
movement within the house. He looks pensive and quickly turns
and walks away, along the porch, to return to the swamp.
“Abigail? Is that you?” As he hears Tressa’s
voice call out, he quickens his pace and breaks into a slight
run.
Back in the swamp, Brydon is picking the orchid up from the
ground. The shots didn’t damage it, but merely separated
it from the tree so he could harvest it. “You don’t
even know what you’ve done!” Will approaches him,
furious. “Look, I’m looking at a pay day, kid.
Fifty thousand dollars, cash --” he says, stuffing the
flower into a bag and looking at Will; “ -- Now part of
it’s yours, if you want it.” He starts to leave,
but Will grabs him by the shoulder, livid; “Who do you
think your are!?!? You gonna go through your whole life
lyin’ and cheatin’!?...” he rants, but Brydon
roughly shoves him to the ground and looks down at him.
“Sorry I had to do that, Will --” he sighs
regretfully; “ -- I can’t keep this Arcane gent
waiting any longer.” He walks off, leaving a very
despondent Will still lying on the ground.
A short while later, Will is walking home through the swamp.
If his life had been bad up until this point, it looks like
it’s about to get much worse when he meet Alec; and the
two face each other for a few moments. “I trusted
you,” Alec intones in his best lecturing voice, as if
Will wasn’t feeling bad enough already; “I showed
you where the White Moss Orchid bloomed.” Will just
looks desolate and subdued, searching for some sort of
answer; “My father, he... he tricked me...” he
tries to explain. “You can’t hide behind tricks.
You’re better than that, Will...at least I thought you
were!” Alec doesn’t appear to be in a very
forgiving mood. “Listen...” Will looks sick with
remorse as he tries to explain, but Alec doesn’t want to
know; “You listen! There’s a fine balance in these
swamps. Life is fragile. You can’t keep breaking it and
expecting it to be whole again!” Will tries to think of
something to say, but there’s nothing really that will
suffice; “I’m sorry!... Please believe me!” he
says with utmost sincerity, looking pleadingly into
Alec’s eyes. There’s a pause as Alec regards him,
and Will’s pleas fall on deaf ears; “Get out of the
swamp!” Alec orders him in a cold and unforgiving tone,
“You’re no longer welcome here.” Judgement
pronounced, Alec pushes Will aside and leaves him alone, to
dejectedly contemplate the recent events. Hands on hips,
looking forlorn, Will does just that.
Back at the Langford house, Abigail is sick in bed, and
finally asleep by the looks of things. Tressa’s tucking
her in and adjusting her blankets with a loving smile.
“I won’t stay any longer -- “ a voice behind
her makes her go rigid. It’s Arcane. He wanders up to
her with an overly friendly smile, “ -- Just stopped by
to pay my respects...” he smiles at her before turning
back to look at Abigail; “... see how the little girl
was doing.” Tressa turns to him; “Dr. Hollister
thinks it’s a pesticide reaction.” she says icily.
“Ah, we don’t use any synthetic pesticides in my
greenhouses --” he tells her with a broad grin; “
-- all our plants are auto-immune... well, that’s the
future of agriculture, you know?” Never one to miss an
opportunity to praise his work, he regards Tressa as he gives
his little lecture/product advertisement, his voice raising
slightly into a cross between pride and mild condescension.
Tressa merely acknowledges with a forced smile and feigned
interest, nodding to him.
"Tressa...
Tressa, I haven't been a very good
neighbour to you, and I hope you'll accept
this gift as a humble token of my esteem...."
“Well!...” Arcane exclaims, picking
up a potted plant and walking behind Tressa to Abigail’s
bedside table; “... when she does wake up, er, perhaps
you’d be good enough to inform her... that this little
present... was from me?” He says in a predatory fashion
as he very carefully places his lovely, thoughtful gift on
the table: Another Scarlet Moss Orchid! “Nighty
night!” we hear his voice saying cheerfully, as his
shadow leaves the room.
“You should have been there, Graham!” Back at the
nursery, Arcane is gloating, “It was most amusing!”
The two men can be seen in silhouette, walking hurriedly
through the lit greenhouse to the exit; “That dreadful
Kipp woman doing her Emily Dickinson impression --”
he’s still on a high as he opens the door and he and
Graham leave the building, Graham shutting the door behind
them; “ -- all hand wringing and sighs...” Graham
rushes to catch up to Arcane, who’s striding ahead as he
derides Tressa. Graham’s smiling, and hanging on every
word of Arcane’s; “... and here I am --”
Arcane continues his boasting, gesturing to Graham as they
turn a corner, “ -- in the bedroom, placing the orchid
on the nightstand... right next to Abigail!” He slows
his pace as they come to a clear plastic partition to another
area of the nursery, and Graham begins to ask a question.
“W..We don’t know what kind of damage will occur in
a person who’s been exposed twice to this plant, do
we?” He says with concern. Arcane stops walking and the
two men face each other. “Well why do you think I paid
this little visit of mercy, you twit!?!?” Arcane says
with exasperation at his assistant’s lack of intuition,
putting his hands in his trouser pockets, “... To place
the orchid near the subject!” he stresses his
explanation. Graham seems worried. “But if the girl
dies?” Worried is the last thing Arcane is feeling;
“Well we’ll all be billionaires!!!... at least I
will!” Arcane responds quickly with callous enthusiasm.
Thrilled at this new-found bonus to his plans, he pauses to
contemplate everything, folding his arms wistfully;
"Oh Graham,
just think... If my plan works, I'll soon be able
to rule the world with an army
of mutant Chrysanthemums!"
*Humour him, Graham, just
humour him... He hasn't had his medication today!*
“Who could have imagined, a beautiful
orchid! So deadly to the food chain, could also incapacitate
human populations!” He suddenly reaches out and grabs
Graham by the arms in a most comradely gesture, causing the
assistant to beam with happiness as well; “I’m
*very* happy, Graham!!” Releasing the man as quickly as
he grabbed him, Arcane turns and enters the other part of the
nursery, Graham following behind.
Waiting for him on the other side is Brydon Kipp, who,
upon seeing Arcane, puts down a brochure he’s been
reading. “Ah! And now, thanks to Mr. Kipp --”
Arcane continues his talk to Graham as he smiles broadly upon
seeing Brydon waiting for him; “ -- I will have the only
known antidote!” With one hand resting on a bench and
the other on his hip, he turns and regards Graham, who looks
as pleased as Arcane as he looks at Brydon. Brydon, on the
other hand, doesn’t look too thrilled to be in
Arcane’s presence; “Just give me my money so I can
get out of here as soon as possible.” he tells the
Doctor icily. “Is there any particular reason
you’re in such a hurry?” Arcane asks pleasantly.
“My deal was the orchid for the money. I don’t have
to give you any details!” Brydon snaps angrily.
“Oh, what a pity,” Arcane flashes a shark’s
smile at Graham and Brydon, “I find the process of
deceit almost as much fun as the culmination.” Brydon
gives an ironic, wistful little laugh before looking back at
the scientist; “Well... let’s just say you and I
come from different worlds, Arcane.” Brydon says
disapprovingly. “oh no --” Arcane whispers softly,
patronising Brydon and savouring the interplay, giving his
best cold smile; “ -- We’re neighbours, you and
I... ethically speaking.” Brydon just looks at Arcane
harshly, unable to truly counter this;
Little did Arcane
realise that he was two seconds away
from the most embarassing
moment of his life, as Graham
accidentally reached into the
pocket with the family
pack of Trojans rather than
the one with the money envelope
“Just give me the money!” he
snarls. Arcane nods to Graham, who reaches into his overall
pocket and produces a white envelope, which he hands to
Brydon, who takes it, almost reluctantly, and examines it,
fingering through the dollar bills contained therein. Arcane
and Graham watch him with rapt attention. Satisfied, Brydon
lowers the envelope and reaches for the sack with the White
Moss Orchid in, which he puts into Arcane’s hand as he
walk out hurriedly, without saying another word. Graham goes
with him, leaving Arcane alone with the Orchid. He holds the
bag, carefully opening it and gazing at the contents as
though it’s his baby. As he stares in total
satisfaction, his image fades and superimposes itself over an
interior shot of Abigail’s bedroom. We hear his voice
whispering sibilantly; “Some nights... it’s just
good to be alive...”
As the shot pans across the room, Abigail is sleeping
restlessly, coughing and feverish. Beside her, the Scarlet
Moss Orchid is emitting it’s defoliant. Abigail is
growing sicker, her coughing growing louder and more
frequent; and she’s perspiring heavily. The flower
continues to emit it’s poison.
In the glass of a painting above Abigail’s bed, we see
the reflection of a large shadow appear, climbing in through
the window: It’s Alec. He moves across the room and
stands over Abigail, before picking up the Scarlet Moss
Orchid and removing it from the nightstand. However, as he
gets near the window, the orchid emits another dose of
defoliant, which Alec falls foul of himself, and almost
collapses in shock. Groaning weakly, now down on his knees,
he quickly grasps the flower in his huge hand, and throws the
pot out of the window, before climbing out himself. Back in
the room, Abigail is still weak and coughing, but through her
fever, she becomes conscious, opening her eyes. As she looks
ahead to where Alec is, a serene smile crosses her face,
before she sinks back into the pillow again, asleep.
Outside, on the porch roof, Alec is weak and staggering
around, finally falling down on all fours, before rolling
over and crashing to the ground below.
Alec didn't know if
it was all those funny little
plants he'd binged on last
night that were doing
this... or just 2 minutes in
Abigail's company!
“I figured you’d be long gone by
now!” Will says angrily as he walks by Brydon’s
parked jeep. “Yeah, well let’s put some distance
between me and this dirty backwater sluice of yours,”
Brydon counters as he packs his jeep up, ready to go;
“Gonna say goodbye to Tressa -- ” he tells Will,
putting a large bedroll in the back of the jeep, ‘ --
then I got a job to do over in Aravim.” Will just looks
at him in confusion and disgust; “Aravim? What side of
the mountain is that on?” A thought comes to him;
“Oh, what side of the truth!?” he adds in a
moralistic tone worthy of Alec. Brydon just looks at him;
“Look, I don’t have time for your third degree
--” he tosses another bag into the jeep; “ --
we’ll get caught up on old times some day when you grow
up, OK?” he quips. “What’s the matter, pop?
All work, no play!?... No time to smell the weeds?” Will
comments sarcastically to him. Brydon turns to him angrily,
leaning on the jeep; “Look! I know I haven’t been a
very good father...” “Good father!?!? You
haven’t been a mediocre memory!!” Will counters
angrily. “ALL RIGHT, WILL!! GET IT OFF YOUR CHEST!!
--” Brydon shouts at him; “ -- GO AHEAD. TAKE YOUR
BEST SHOT!!” He gestures to himself, inviting Will to
hit him; but Will just stares in contempt; “Be just like
you? --” he says quietly, shaking his head, “ --
Never!... Just the thought of having the same blood in my
veins is enough to handle.” This is too much for
Brydon’s guilt to take, and with a snarl, he makes to
hit Will, but he’s not fast enough and Will grabs his
hand before it makes contact. Calmly, he just looks Brydon in
the eyes; “I’ve said my goodbyes... now I have to
go and help a friend who needs me.” he whispers, before
walking away from Brydon, who’s left alone to vent his
impotent fury at the truth in Will’s words by slamming
his fist into the jeep.
Will hurries along to get back to Abigail, and finally
arrives back at the Langford house, but as he ascends the
porch steps and approaches the front door, a voice makes him
stop; “Will!” It’s Alec, calling his name. He
turns to see Alec staggering weakly out of the swamp, and
immediately rushes to see what’s wrong. “I need
your help!” Alec gasps, but Will remains silent,
“... the White Moss Orchid is at Arcane’s
greenhouse... It can save Abigail’s life!” Will is
still staring at him silently, and Alec looks at him, and his
tone becomes harsher; “In case you’re interested...
*this* plant is going to pay a visit there!” He seems to
falter, and Will finally finds his voice; “What..
what’s the matter with you?” he asks with concern.
“I’ve tasted Arcane’s madness... It’s
made me weak.” he replies. Just then, they are
interrupted by some car headlights approaching, and they turn
to look. It’s Brydon’s jeep pulling up by the
house. “Maybe it’s time we all made peace?”
Alec suggests; “... we’ve been fighting the wrong
enemy,” he mutters, as he turns to walk away before
he’s seen.
Brydon parks the jeep and gets out, and he and Will approach
each other. “So, d’you visit your friend?” He
asks will bitterly. “One of them,” Will replies
softly. “Oh, you have more than one... you’re a
lucky man!” Brydon quips, still with a hint of
bitterness. “It’s not just luck,” Will says
with a resolute shake of his head. Brydon thinks on this and
nods; “All right, kid. I understand.” he turns from
Will and steps up onto the porch. “Dad?” Will calls
after him, and Brydon stops and turns back; “Yeah?”
he says to Will, standing hand on hip. “I need your
help.” are Will’s simple words. Brydon
contemplates; “With what?” he asks. “Helping a
friend,” Will tells him, putting out his hand;
“you’re with me?” he asks his father. Brydon
pauses and sighs, coming down from the porch and taking
Will’s hand; “I’d like to be, Will,” he
admits; “... in more ways than you’ll ever
know,” he says sadly; “come here,” he says
softly, and they hug each other closely, the pent up emotions
from all the past years finally finding catharsis.
"So how long
did the personal therapist suggest
doing this for to get over the
residual resentment?"
"Oh, I'd give it another
30 seconds at least, Will."
"Then can I hit
you!?"
"Sure, Kid!"
“Pick a country, Graham -- “ Behind a bench, Arcane beams as he tends the White Moss Orchid, patting down the soil around it in it’s new pot, as he turns to his assistant with another broad beaming smile; “ -- You’re *least* favourite country -- “ Graham reciprocates with a broad smile of his own as Arcane continues; “ -- We’ll send our little orchid there for a visit,” he continues to tend the plant in his care. Graham gives a little chuckle, and Arcane turns to regard him with an approving smile.
GRAHAM: *He loves
me, he loves me not, he loves me...Woo Hoo!!!*
ARCANE: *He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me... Oh
bugger!!!*
Just then, two figures approach the plastic
curtain of the nursery. It’s Brydon, followed by Will,
and he’s carrying the white envelope from earlier;
“I’m sorry to bother you so late at night --”
he says in a casually, mocking tone, pushing through the
curtain; “ -- but I saw your light was on, and I heard
you were a specialist with orchids, and, well, my son over
here --” he gestures back to Will behind him; “ --
needs a corsage for his lady friend... she’s sick in
bed...” Arcane just ignores him contemptuously;
“... I’ll pay cash...” he disdainfully tosses
the envelope onto the bench by Arcane, who just looks at
Brydon and gives a derisory sneer, before continuing to tend
the orchid; “... how about fifty thousand dollars?”
Brydon comments cheerfully.
“I’m afraid there’s only one orchid here
--” Arcane looks up at him with a huge smile, handing
the plant to Graham; “ -- and it’s not for
sale.” He looks around at two guards standing behind him
and Graham; “Let’s show these gentlemen something a
little less... delicate, shall we?” he whispers
menacingly to each guard in turn, and they nod, taking the
hint. Brydon and Will back off slightly as the guards
advance, one grabbing a pot to use as a weapon. “Take
them!” Arcane drops the pleasantries entirely and orders
the guards, as he slowly backs away from the fight
that’s about to ensue.
And ensue it does. On one side of the bench, Will stands off
against one of the guards, while on the other, Brydon faces
the second one. Both sides begin to exchange blows.
There’s a furious fist fight going on between Brydon and
his opponent, while Will is doing the same, shortly before
his opponent picks him up bodily, throws him over his
shoulder and with a scream of rage, slams him down into a
bench of plants and glass, breaking it in two. The place
looks like it’s being wrecked, and Arcane has decided
that discretion is the better part of valour, and is making
for safety. As he looks back at the fight, he sees poor
Graham standing helpless in the middle, and Brydon moving in
towards him... and what’s more to the point, Graham is
still holding the flower! “THE ORCHID!!” Arcane
shrieks desperately to his assistant, who turns and throws
the plant to him, scant moments before Brydon lands a vicious
punch to Graham’s face, knocking the man out. Arcane
skilfully catches the plant without damaging it;
“Ooh...!” Arcane winces in empathy at the rather
nasty blow Graham’s just taken from Brydon,
“...good show, Graham!” he then quips, in a sort of
‘rather you than me’ sort of way, before turning
and getting the hell out of there fast before *he’s*
hurt.
"Oh my! This
dialogue's getting worse. I have *got*
to get back to the National
Theatre somehow!"
“WILL!!!” Back in the midst of the
chaos, Brydon cries a warning, moments before one of the
guards gets to his feet and charges him, headbutting, and
sending both him and Brydon crashing through a wood and glass
frame. Brydon’s on the floor, but the guard gets up and
picks up a heavy metal pole, raising it to hit Brydon.
He’s not quick enough though, and Will gets to him
first, knocking the man down with a series of punches. He
then turns back to the other guard who’s joined in
again. Meanwhile, Brydon’s back on his feet and joining
the melee, but it’s too late: Will’s rendered both
guards unconscious. They take a few moments to get their
breath and survey the carnage of the wrecked area of the
nursery; “Not bad, kid...” Brydon surveys his son;
“... where the hell d’you learn how to fight like
that!?” Will’s still panting for breath, leaning
over and resting his hands on his thighs; “I’m your
son... what d’you expect?” He retorts. Still
recovering and gasping, they make their way out.
Meanwhile, outside, Arcane is hurrying away from the scene,
past a dumpster. Thinking he’s safe, he gives a wry
smile as he clutches the Orchid and backs off round a corner,
and turns round... running straight into Alec, who’s
waiting for him! His eyes widening in shock and fear, he
barely has time to give a surprised cry before he’s
grabbed roughly by the throat and dragged along, backwards,
by Alec.
"No, No!! I
didn't forget your birthday, I
swear!! Look! I've even bought
a prezzie
... and it isn't one of the
Taiwanese ones!"
“You have impeccably bad timing... d’you know that!?” Arcane is clearly afraid, but manages to regain some composure as he’s forced backwards. Alec says nothing, but merely regards Arcane as he backs him off as far as possible, against the dumpster. He then proceeds to remove the Orchid from Arcane’s hand, for safety; and the scientist sees his only protection being removed. With a cry of discomfort and fear, Arcane’s then roughly hoisted clear off his feet and high into the air by the throat, where he looks down with fear into Alec’s angry eyes.
"Look, Holland,
if you're going to start getting bloody personal
about how much nostril hair I
have from this angle, I could
go on about your personal
hygiene problem at this distance!"
“You’re never going to learn, Arcane --” Alec growls menacingly, his face close to the frightened doctor’s; “ -- there are some plants you just can’t push around!” With contempt, he throws Arcane backwards into the dumpster. The scientist gives another cry of shock, before landing with a painfully heavy metallic thud. Alec then turns to the White Moss Orchid in his hand, and looks at it lovingly; “Come on, old friend... Let’s save a life!” he smiles, before setting off with the flower.
"Oh, how
thoughtful!...Wait a minute!? What's this on
the pot... 'Made in Taiwan'!?..... ARCANE!!!"
It’s next day at the Langford house, and the sun is shining. Inside, in Abigail’s bedroom, the White Moss Orchid is on the nightstand by Abigail, and Dr. Hollister is looking at his watch, taking Abigail’s pulse. She begins to stir dreamily and looks up at him with a gentle smile on her face. She’s looking a lot better.
"So, Abigail.
You say you've been poisoned by a
mutant flower and have seen
little green men, yes?"
"That's right, Doc."
"It's OK, Tressa. She's
fully recovered now and back to normal."
“Hi, Doc,” she smiles at him.
“Welcome back,” he replies; “You’re going
to be all right; you just need some more sleep,” he
tells her calmly. Behind him, Tressa is smiling broadly.
“I had the strangest dream...” Abigail begins to
think back. “Oh, Abigail, the fever you had, I
wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t see little
green men outside your window there,” he comments to
her, inclining his head to the window, to where she follows
his gaze, wide eyed in recognition. “I did!” she
says softly; yawning; “...how ::::another lazy yawn:::
how d’you know?” she sighs, before snuggling back
into the bed and going back to sleep. “Sshhh...”
Dr. Hollister whispers gently to her, giving her a little pat
on the shoulder before standing up and smiling at Tressa, who
silently mouths a ‘thank you’ to him, before he
quietly leaves. Tressa then approaches Abigail’s bed and
stands over her, adjusting her blanket and tucking her in.
Behind her, Brydon arrives and stands in the doorway.
“How’s she doing?” he asks with concern. With
none of the reticence from earlier, Tressa merely smiles,
looks back, then back at Abigail to make sure she’s all
right, before straightening and walking over to the doorway
where Brydon is. “She’ll be fine,” she nods to
Brydon, who just acknowledges with a smile. They spend a few
moments looking at one another. “er, Are you
leaving?” she finally asks him, perhaps a slight,
hopeful look in her eyes. “Never said I’d
stay,” he answers honestly. The disappointment shows in
her eyes, but she nods her head resignedly; “I never
expected you to,” she counters, and pauses for a moment;
“I just thought, maybe, this time... “ she shrugs;
“... you might stay longer.” “It’s got
nothing to do with you,” he answers in a subdued voice
and a slight shake of the head. She gives hers a slight shake
of irony; “Usually never does...” she whispers,
before giving a little sigh and collecting herself; “...
still doesn’t make it any easier.” He looks
embarrassed; “Look...er...” he gives a downwards
glance, “... for what it’s worth, it’s not
easy for me either,” they gaze at each other, and she
just nods again before looking downwards, perhaps at the
futility of the situation, perhaps because she doesn’t
believe him; perhaps because she does... “I’ll
write,” he finally tells her, softly; and she looks back
up at him, strength appearing in her eyes and a knowing
smile; “No you won’t,” she tells him, without
animosity, only cynical realism. He says nothing, unable to
deny it, but puts a hand to her face gently. “So long,
Tressa,” he looks into her eyes and strokes her face.
“Take care of yourself, Brydon,” she says softly,
fighting back tears and giving a little smile. He turns and
leaves, and she watches him go, only now letting her face
harden and showing more of the pain she’s feeling.
“Take care of yourself!” she repeats to nobody in
particular, as she feels part of her soul has left.
Back in the swamp, as Alec submerges into the waters, he
utters the words;
“Arcane continues to hunt for a way to
control other men, while I hunt... just to become a man
again.”