Episode 22.0 - Devil at the Crossroads
Episode Credits:
Episode 22.0 - Devil at the Crossroads: Morgan catches up to the Great Zombie Horde and it's Tyrant leader, Rictor, in hopes of hatching a deal. All the while Ashley, Billy and Mel 'enjoy' weaving between Killzones on their road trip together to Zombieville!
While you're in the wasteland, follow us on Twitter for news and updates! Better yet, if you're on Bluesky you can find us there! Join us in hitchhiking on the Red Fathom discord to hang out with cast and crew! Want to support the show? Please check out our Patreon to find our new Red Fathom Entertainment subscription model that gives you access to EVERYTHING we make!
Hannahpocalypse is intended for mature audiences on account of mature language, theme and violence and horror elements. Please be advised.
Episode Credits:
Amanda Hufford as Hannah
Abigail Turner as Cali
Jordan Rudolph as Mel
Will Handford as Jameson, Bogart, Ol' Blind Pete
Tom Schalk as Rictor, Charles
Ryan Hoyle as Reggie
Yenni Ann as Ashley
James Holyoake as Billy
Leslie Gideon as Morgan
Writing and Sound Design by Damian Szydlo
Sensitivity and Script Reading by Mak Shepard (where required)
Special thanks to Velvet Moon & Argle Bargle Studios for providing music for Hannahpocalypse! Listen to Velvet Moon on Spotify and find Argle Bargle Studios on Instagram.
Intro Song: A Florentine Story by Michele Nobler & Luis Berra
Outro Song: If it Matters (Instrumental) by Velvet Moon
Special Thanks to Russ More & Beth Crane for assorted zombie sounds!
TRANSCRIPT
[FADE IN]
[SCENE SETUP: Rictor is walking, shambling through the countryside ahead of his zombie horde.]
RICTOR
“Oh. It’s you. Not sure I’m enjoying all the attention you’re ‘lavishing’ on me these days. Figure there’s got to be some reason you’re back, haunting my shadow. ‘Fraid there’s not much to see right now. To tell you the truth, this existence, or whatever you call it, is one hell of a bore. My kids and I spend our days shambling from place to place, hoping we stumble onto some poor, pulse-having son of a bitch. Like that family back there in Virginia. Speaking of, they joined the pack, too. Not that they had much of a choice. Poor, unfortunate souls.
[RICTOR’s zombie body continues to walk along]
Fuck. You know, I’d kill for a cigarette. That might not be all that surprising seeing as I’d kill for just about any reason these days. There’s a fire in me for it. Some black coffee fueled, everwaking, unwavering nihilistic spirit. That zombie blood’s still burnin’ hot- so, when I say I’d murder a motherfucker for a taste of that good smokey death in my lungs, I want you to know… that I’d kill God to get it. And if you’re him. If you’re ‘He’, that is… then I’d probably watch my step.
Hold up now. Is that a-”
[RICTOR doesn’t realise he’s being watched until almost stumbling over MORGAN as she waits. The sound of a zippo being flicked open and closed draws his attention. She’s lounging playfully in the driver's seat of her car.]
MORGAN
“That static cloud up there? I think you’re giving it too much credit. If I were to guess, and I will, I suppose I’d wager it’s a gambler.”
RICTOR
[surprised]
“Well hot damn! Just who in the fancy flying fuck are you?”
MORGAN
[idly]
“Someone who knows how to make an entrance. Drove all night to make it here, if I’m being honest. Ran out of fuel. Seems I got as far as I needed to go, though.”
RICTOR
“Is that right?”
MORGAN
“Mmhmm. Thought I’d catch up with your horde, cut you off before you wandered too far. Planned on following you around awhile. Didn’t expect much, so you can colour me surprised! Hearing a bunch of self-important rambling at the head of this lot! Drifting in on the mornin’ breeze. Didn’t think you zombies had leaders. Handsome ones, no less. Seems I’ve been missing out.”
RICTOR
“I… Well, shucks, ain’t this a pleasant surprise? You know, truth be told, I haven't had a proper conversation in an age! They all usually begin and end with the same tired-old screaming! I’m sure we’ll get to that in a bit, but for the meantime this is a treat!
So, why don’t you tell me, before I go ahead and rip you out of that car- get to pulling out your pretty pink intestines… how the hell are you hearing me? Cause I’m dyin’ to know.”
MORGAN
“It’s a mutant thing. [realises he doesn’t understand] Half-zombie? [rolls her eyes as he still doesn’t get her] You’d probably know about us if you weren’t so quick to tear into people. No sense of timing or artistry. Oh well, if you must know, it’s the reason why your family back there isn’t salivating at the sight of me. Bad blood, as far as I can tell.”
[MORGAN gets out of the car and closes the door behind her]
RICTOR
“Right. Right! You know, I met a couple of you freaks back in the old days. When I was still raiding. Still breathing air. Feels like a lifetime ago. Suppose it was.”
MORGAN
[not enjoying being called a freak, barely swallowing it, her response is strained]
“Besides… like I was going to say… you don’t want to kill me, Rambling Man.”
RICTOR
“Oh yeah? Seems to me like that’s a hell of an assumption to make- so, how about you go ahead and enlighten me as to exactly why I don’t want to kill you, Grey Lady.”
MORGAN
“It’d be a waste. You’re not stupid, or at least you don’t seem to be. I mean, we could be friends. With benefits. Big… benefits. Care for a cigarette?”
RICTOR
“I… OH hell yeah, I do. More than anything.”
MORGAN
“Yeah, me too.”
[MORGAN lights her cigarette and takes a puff, pacing around Rictor.]
RICTOR
“Don’t you play with me now, girl.”
MORGAN
[smiling]
“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”
[MORGAN leans in to put the cigarette in Rictors mouth, holding it there for him, a purring seductive tone.]
“Go ahead. Take as long as you like.”
RICTOR
[Enjoying the smoke]
“Aren’t you just an angel?”
[RICTOR waits a moment, savouring the pleasure before making small talk. MORGAN knows she’s got him now.]
“You said back there that you think that thing floatin’ around, listening… you called it a gambler?”
MORGAN
“Making wagers. Weighing us. Watching our crimes and placing bets, yeah.”
RICTOR
“Against what odds, do you think?”
MORGAN
“You tell me, darling.”
RICTOR
“Guess we’ll find out. That is, as long as you’re offering me more than a little cigarette.”
MORGAN
“Are we negotiating?”
RICTOR
“I think we might be.”
MORGAN
“I like that. If I was to place a bet of my own. Assess a need… I’d say that you need a compass.”
RICTOR
“And what makes you think that?”
MORGAN
“Wasteland rumours say your horde travels in straight lines. Backtracks randomly. No rhyme, no reason. Level with me: You don’t have the slightest idea what way you’re going, do you?”
RICTOR
[Stews on that a moment, not enjoying admitting she’s right]
“I only knew we were in Virginia because I saw a damn sign. Overgrown, toppled down in a bush. Walked over the damn thing. No idea if there were any settlements back there. If I missed any fun. Do you know how fucking infuriating that is? Not being able to properly control your body. Just doing your best to steer yourself in a direction. Like a ship without a bearing.”
MORGAN
“You need a map. I could be that for you.”
RICTOR
“Could you? Our guide! Our benevolent, good intentioned Sherpa! Taking us through the wilderness, on a grand ol’ tour of the apocalypse! One last, great trip for everyone, is that it? Is that about the jist of it?”
MORGAN
“Something like that.”
RICTOR
“And what do you get for it? I’m thinking it’s not for the pleasure of our unwashed company. My family back there’s a little too ill-mannered for a lady like you. Besides, I see something in your eyes. I know a predator when I see one. ‘Cept you’re no wolf, are you? No… no. You’re some kind of snake. Or a spider. [sees she’s uncomfortable at that reference and presses his advantage] Go on and tell me. What’s in it for you, Grey Lady? What’s Mama Spider want most?”
MORGAN
[Her emotions, her resentment of people who have hurt her, gets the better of her previously cool demeanour.]
“Everything else- everything I’m owed. [takes the cigarette back and takes an anxious drag] I’ll show you how to get there. Where you want to go. Give you your targets on a fucking platter. You can do whatever you want with them as long as I get their shit. All of it. I want to roll around in it- I… I want to feel gold on my skin, and I’m willing to make a deal with the devil to get it.”
RICTOR
“Well then, you’ve come to the right crossroad. I do say, you play a damn fine fiddle too. Now, be a dear and share that little death stick again, would you? I need a second to think this over.”
[takes a drag]
“My thanks. Now let me see if I’ve got the right of all this. You drag us along with you. Point us towards a good party and all you want for it is what’s left behind?”
MORGAN
“No. I don’t just want it. I want to enjoy it. Only when I’m done… only when I’ve sucked every bit of marrow from the bone… only then, we move on to find the next kingdom to conquer.
Oh, and one more thing. Don’t call me a spider again. Ever.”
RICTOR
[letting it all sink in, terribly amused]
“Something got in that head of yours once, didn’t it? Twisted you all up inside. [if he could smile one would have grown high on his face] Alright. Alright! I like it. Sounds like one hell of a time! You’ve got yourself a deal. I’d shake your hand if I had proper control over my appendages, so I’ll settle for your name.”
MORGAN
“Morgan. Morgan Sosa.”
RICTOR
“Pleased to meet you, Morgan Sosa. I’m Rictor. It’s good to have you aboard. Now, go on and get your shit together. We’ve got some big misery to visit on this shithole of a wasteland together! [laughs to himself] God damn! I haven’t been this excited in years! Years, you hear?”
[SCENE FADE OUT]
[SCENE FADE IN]
[MEL, ASHLEY and BILLY are in the truck together, driving]
ASHLEY
[bad jaws theme, Clerks homage/Easter Egg Clerks: Salsa shark - Jaws]
“Da-dum… Da-dum… Da-dum da-dum da-dum-da-dum-da-dum. Salsa shark! We’re gonna need a bigger boat!
Man goes into cage. Cage goes into salsa. Shark’s in the salsa…”
MEL
“Clerks.”
ASHLEY
“What?”
MEL
“You lifted that from Clerks. Remember, I’m old, hun. Was old even before the apocalypse happened.”
BILLY
“She does it every time she eats anything she dips in that blasted salsa, Ms. Melony. Which is, to my witness, six-hundred and twenty-two times during the span of my servitude. Without fail. Every. Time.
This is my life now.”
ASHLEY
“Billy! Have… I really did the Salsa Shark routine that many times? I mean, that’s got to be an exaggeration, right?”
BILLY
“My calculation is accurate. To the number, I’m afraid.”
MEL
[amused, but kind of thinks it’s cute]
“Brutal.
Not to incriminate myself, but I think that Salsa Shark might actually be my fault.”
BILLY
“Oh? [unamused] Do tell.”
MEL
[talking while keeping her eyes on the road]
“Not much of a story there. Years ago, before Goldengate fell, they were offloading a bunch of shit from the ‘cultural’ archives. Most of it was either junk or material that was deemed ‘unsuitable’ for their audience. Which was pretty rich for anyone who saw through the whole ‘Americana’ fetish their founders infected the wasteland with. Most people who lived there were alright. The ones that didn’t drink the kool-aid, that is. Just trying to get by under a weirdly oppressive culture. As long as they took what the council was pushing, they got to dabble in all kinds of late-stage, before-times stuff.
Anyway, they drew the line at Kevin Smith, I guess. Couldn’t bring themselves to destroy perfectly serviceable old world relics, though. Even if those tapes killed brain cells. Their words, not mine. So, like most things with nowhere to go… those flicks ended up in Junktown.”
ASHLEY
“Wow. Everyones a critic. Whatever. I liked it.”
BILLY
“No accounting for taste, I suppose.”
MEL
“Come on, Bill! She can afford to kill a few brain cells! Seriously though, I didn't think those old tapes were still around these days. If you would have told someone that DVDs and even VHSs were still around in 2232… I don’t know, I’m sure it defies scientific explanation.”
ASHLEY
[pouting]
“Yeah. Whatever. Laugh it up you two. Ashley sucks and does the same joke six hundred and something times. ‘Wasting away’ watching dumb movies with her big ol’ brain. I’m just gonna eat my salsa in silence then. You’re no-fun-having asses don’t even deserve the Salsa Shark.”
BILLY
“We’ll find a way to go on, I assure you. Thankfully, I have the passing of the Arizona landscape to keep me company. I must say, this new view is preferable to being face down in the seat cushion.”
ASHLEY
[Still pouting]
“You’re welcome.”
BILLY
“Ms. Melony, if you’d indulge my idle curiosity for a moment… is this the same route you used to take? When you facilitated trade relations between Junktown and Goldengate?”
MEL
“The same. Had to be careful to thread the needle between Kill Zones. Used to have markers everywhere. Fortunately, I did it enough times that I know the trip by heart, even after all these years. It’s a good thing Kill Zones don’t change.
You know, I think I mentioned it before, but I used to meet this guy out here. Council lackey type, liked to sound important and made damn sure you knew it, too. What a real pair of dickshoes, he was. Not to mention, to add insult to injury, he also did that weird Goldengate voice they all did. You know the one. Some people still do it-”
[MEL gives her best/bad transatlantic Bogart accent while concentrating on driving]
“Oh, dear! You’re so very, very wrong! You would have received a long-sounding of the big red buzzer for an answer like that, mutant scum! I’m a doctor, by the way!”
[back to normal]
“Fucking intolerable. I mean, imagine being such an actual asshole. Day in, day out. A real all-year-round kind of cockhead. Dealing with that dude never got any better, either. Or any easier. Was worth putting up with, though. For everyone’s sake.
Hard truth is… things were a lot better for Junktown when Goldengate was still there. Good food was a lot easier to get, for one. If I’ve learned anything from living through an apocalypse, it’s that any neighbour is better than no neighbour at all. Even if they’re bad ones. It’s easier to trade with a bunch of bigots than it is to see a family starving.
Can’t imagine living life on that side of the fence, though. For all their freedom talk, they had a lot of really dumb-assed rules. Better than living like a raider though, I guess.”
BILLY
“Those raiders being one of the few exceptions to the bad neighbour rule, I imagine.”
ASHLEY
“I’m not too sure if people that kill each other for fun and profit are actually people anymore, Billy. Don’t imagine they’re all that keen on trading anything but bullets.”
MEL
“Ain’t that the truth. This stretch is lousy with their kind, too. You’d think they would have moved on over the last fifty years. Unfortunately if you figured that, then you figured wrong. Dead wrong.”
ASHLEY
“Why didn’t they? Move on, I mean.”
MEL
“Slim pickin’s are also better than none at all. California is full of what I call ‘Mardi Gras’ communities. Little spots that pop up for a flash before disappearing in a puff of smoke, trying to make the best of things. Most of ‘em are farmers that set up until they get big enough to rob. Raiders out here are desperate enough these days that they’ll eat the little fish that are better off thrown back.
It’s another one of those things I miss about the city on the bridge. Goldengate used to keep at least a chunk of California safe. Now it’s a fuckin’ free-for-all.”
ASHLEY
“Depressing. Maybe… maybe if we find a way to talk to the zombies… well, maybe we could ask them to move out? Let some new people live there? Bring Goldengate back. I mean, it’s so weird anyway, isn’t it? Who ever heard of a zombie horde that stayed put? There’s gotta be a reason, right?”
MEL
“I don’t know. Maybe they got stuck up there or something. It’s really creepy shit. Some traders tell stories about them walking around up there like regular people but… so not regular, you know? Can’t believe we’re actually going there.”
ASHLEY
“Yeah…”
BILLY
“Ms. Ashley, Ms. Melony. I believe we might have a problem.”
MEL
“You got eyes on something, Billy?”
BILLY
“I’m not certain. Does that look like a moving dust cloud? There, behind us. In the distance.”
ASHLEY
“I can’t… I can’t make it out. One second…
[Sounds of ASHLEY rolling down the window before unbuckling and squeezing out to sit on it’s edge, legs still in the truck as she tries to get eyes on what BILLY sees - Need ASHLEY efforts as she gets into place. Truck is still moving.]
BILLY
“Oh do be careful, Ms. Ashley.”
MEL
“Don’t worry. She’s got this. She’s wire-y.
[pause a moment before calling out]
See anything?”
ASHLEY
[calling back]
“Not sure! There’s a lot of wind. Lots of dust in the air. Pretty hard to tell!”
BILLY
“To the West-ish. Nearly Three O’ Clock!”
ASHLEY
“Shit, he’s right! He’s right, Mel! Looks like multiple bandits, incoming fast. Does this thing go any faster?”
MEL
“Not by much. Alright, Hotshot. Get back in here, already!
[waits for ASHLEY to get back into her seat as MEL speeds up.]
Good eyes, you two. I’d say you just saved our asses but we’re not out of the frying pan yet.”
BILLY
“What do you propose?”
MEL
“Well, we’re not gonna outrun ‘em. Raiders ride junk… but usually it’s pretty loud, fast junk. A lot faster than my old girl here. If Ash takes the wheel, I can probably take out a few of ‘em before they’re on us. If they’re running lean that might be enough, but I’m not counting on it. Not that lucky.”
BILLY
“Well now, that doesn’t sound encouraging, does it?”
MEL
“My thoughts exactly.”
ASHLEY
“What about the Kill Zone?”
MEL
“Ex-fuckin-cuse me?”
ASHLEY
“Hear me out. You said they were loud, right? If they follow us in, then we’re going to see some Red-Tail’s come out to meet us. They’ll be on their asses in no time!”
MEL
“And ours. We’re not exactly low profile, Ash.”
ASHLEY
“Maybe not! When we were breaking down the code we got from the Flamingo, Billy was able to do some basic communication with them.”
BILLY
“True. Unfortunately, as you well know, it didn’t translate to any sort of control that might help us here. Mostly queries, red light-green light level communication.”
ASHLEY
“To communicate you had to pretend you were one of them though, right?”
BILLY
“It was… more crude than that, but… yes, I suppose. Enough that we were able to get away with a passing acknowledgement, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny.”
ASHLEY
“I don’t think it has to! We’re not looking to trick them into thinking we’re a robot or something but… maybe we can help them pick targets?”
MEL
“You can do that?”
BILLY
[thinking hard on it]
“Yes… I believe I might. The Red-Tail is an evolution of the traditional ‘Hunter/Killer’. Humans used these units to identify key strategic parties on a battlefield and eliminate priority targets. We won’t be able to obfuscate ourselves, but we just might be able to spoof them into targeting the raiders before us.
MEL
And just maybe give us enough time to loop around and get the hell out of the Kill Zone before they start looking for secondary targets. You’re a fucking genius. Both of you. Genius-i.”
BILLY
“The plural of the word genius is absolutely not ‘Geniusi’.”
ASHLEY
“Oh, is this a good time for a lecture? Please, Billy, correct us more. What I really love before a life-or-death situation is to argue semantics about a stupid word!”
BILLY
“I’m just saying-”
MEL
“Ugh. I take it back. You two ready?
ASHLEY
“Would it make any difference if we weren’t?”
MEL
“Not at all. Buckle up, Ash. This is gonna suck. Big time.”
[The truck speeds off into the distance]
[FADE OUT]