Bounty

by Amy Martin

This story orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 17.

 

BOUNTY

A rural road some­where in the Amer­i­can South or Midwest in a not-too-distant future.

From BLACK, sound of a SIREN, then cop cher­ries flash.

A teenage girl in a field hockey uniform appears in pinspot. Her name is SLONE.

SLONE

Worst birth­day ever. A Sweet Sixteen is sup­posed to be some­thing. Going to the In-N-Out with my mom blows. Jackson couldn’t even make it. He had Bible study or some­thing. Of course I was gonna sneak out later to see him. He said he had some­thing to give me, and he gave me this. See? This charm? It’s a field hockey stick. I’m never going to take it off. I… well, I didn’t know we were going to… It just sort of hap­pened. His parents watch their shows really loud. His dad can’t hear out of one ear. It didn’t suck, not exactly. Just… I cried a little. Went home. Didn’t say any­thing. My mom would’ve killed me. Nothing to do about it anyway. No more Plan B at the Wal­greens. No more condoms any­where either. Doctor wouldn’t have given me birth control pills, even if I’d asked for them. My Mom has some black market IUD, I think. Now there are just racks and racks of those promise and purity rings. And wedding mag­a­zines. Girl in twelfth grade died last year trying to… Nobody said any­thing. Just didn’t show up one morning. SROs cleaned out her locker… Guess Mom was right. Every­thing she said. No choice, no excep­tions. No con­tra­cep­tion. Rape isn’t rape. You can go to jail for a mis­car­riage. A fetus is a person. She says it’s worse now than before Roe. I’m just a uterus with legs.

LIGHTS FADE up on a “car” as Slone turns upstage and sits shotgun beside DAPHNE, 40s, her mother, who sits in the driver’s seat. 

The car is center-stage and facing the audi­ence. On the back seat rests a suit­case, back­pack, and field hockey stick.

Cop cher­ries flash as Daphne sits tensely, glanc­ing in the rearview and side mirrors to check the approach of the POLICE OFFICER who pulled her over. 

DAPHNE

Here he comes.

SLONE

Is it a cop?

DAPHNE

Hard to tell these days. They all look the same. 

SLONE

(pan­ick­ing)

Mom–

DAPHNE

I do all the talking.

WAYNE JOHNSON walks along­side the car on Daphne’s side. He wears a uniform shirt, but he doesn’t have a badge. He carries a gun, but it doesn’t look “reg­u­la­tion.” He also has a flashlight.

Daphne looks up at him.

DAPHNE

Was I speed­ing, Officer…

WAYNE

No, ma’am. 

DAPHNE

Oh, is my tail­light out?

WAYNE

No, ma’am.

DAPHNE

Oh. Then… Are you a police officer? I thought–

WAYNE

I’ve been dep­u­tized. Remem­ber that “Adopt-a-Road” program back in the day? For litter and such? Well, this here’s my road. County should put up a sign on the shoul­der with my name on it. License and registration.

DAPHNE

Oh, so you’re not a police officer… But you still want my–

WAYNE

I just like saying it, all offi­cial-like… “License and registration.”

DAPHNE

You have the light on your car. Why did you–?

WAYNE

This road’s mine. And every­thing on it.

DAPHNE

I’m sorry. Am I not sup­posed to be driving here? I can go another way.

Wayne takes a step back, leans down to look in at both Daphne and Slone. He shines a FLASHLIGHT into their eyes.

As his face nears, Daphne starts.

DAPHNE

Wait, do I know you?

WAYNE

This your daughter?

DAPHNE

Yes. We’re just going to visit my sister. 

WAYNE

That a fact.

DAPHNE

Yes, she’s… well, she won’t be with us long. My sister, I mean. She lives up in Vermont. That’s why we’re leaving in the middle of the night. It’s an emer­gency. We need to see her before she–

WAYNE

What’s she got?

DAPHNE

Cancer.

WAYNE

My mother had cancer. Died when I was twelve.

DAPHNE

I’m sorry to hear that.

WAYNE

Not good for a boy to lose his mother that young.

DAPHNE

No, no, it isn’t. Not good for a girl either.

WAYNE

Your daugh­ter twelve?

DAPHNE

She’s… sixteen.

WAYNE

Yeah, she looks older.

Wayne might shine his light into Slone’s eyes again.

WAYNE

(to Slone)

What’s your name?

DAPHNE

We really have to be on our way now–

SLONE

Slone.

WAYNE

You look about the same age as one of my daughters.

He swings the flash­light into the back seat.

WAYNE

That a field hockey stick? You play field hockey, Slone?

Wayne reaches into the back of the car and pulls her field hockey stick out.

SLONE

Yeah. For my high school.

DAPHNE

She’s an All-American.

WAYNe

They don’t have field hockey at my kids’ school. Only boys play sports. Football.

DAPHNE

(to Wayne)

Is your last name Johnson? I think we went to high school togeth­er. I’m Daphne. Maybe you remem­ber me.

WAYNE

Yeah, I remem­ber a Daphne. I called her Dee-Dee. Sat up front. Goody-two-shoes. Teacher’s pet.

DAPHNE

Yes. Well. We had some classes togeth­er. Wayne, right? You hated algebra. Played bas­ket­ball at lunch.

WAYNE

You were pretty smart as I recall. Let every­one know it, too. My wife’s pretty smart.

DAPHNE

That’s good. What’s your wife do?

WAYNE

Do? She’s a real good mother.

DAPHNE

That’s good. Family is important.

WAYNE

Family is every­thing. Nothing else matters.

DAPHNE

How many chil­dren do you–

WAYNE

Sixth is coming.

DAPHNE

Six! Wow. Six. I’ve got my hands full with one.

WAYNE

One is nothing. You married?

DAPHNE

No. No. I was. Things didn’t work out.

WAYNE

Just the two of you then.

DAPHNE

Not that that’s–

WAYNE

Here’s my problem, Dee-Dee.

He stands up with the field hockey stick, mimes playing with it. 

 

Got tons of girls and women driving up and down this road at all hours of the day and night.

DAPHNE

That a fact.

WAYNE

Up there about a mile and a half is the state line. And about thirty-five miles past that is a clinic.

DAPHNE

I don’t see what that has to do with us. We’re turning north to go to my sister’s before we get to any clinic.

WAYNE

We’ve got laws in our great state. It’s a great state, isn’t it, Slone?

SLONE

Sure.

WAYNE

And those laws say you can’t take a minor across state lines to do what they do at places like that clinic. And I get to wor­ry­ing. I worry a lot, because I’m a husband and a father, you know. I worry. I worry that the ladies on this road, my road, aren’t choos­ing life. 

DAPHNE

We’re just going to visit–

WAYNE

Just today I caught one trying to take her minor daugh­ter across that state line. For what, I ask you? To kill a baby. An unborn child. And I said not on my watch. Chil­dren are the future.

DAPHNE

You’re a real crusader.

WAYNE

The one who pursues right­eous­ness and love finds life, bounty, and honor.

DAPHNE

Can’t say I know that one. Like I said, we’re not–

WAYNE

None of this has any­thing to do with you. Right, Dee-Dee? You two are going to visit a dying rel­a­tive, and that’s right and proper.

DAPHNE

That’s right.

WAYNE

Okay, then. Sit tight. Got some­thing for you. Then… you can get on your way.

He walks away toward the back of the car, pre­sum­ably heads to his car parked behind.

SLONE

Dee-Dee?

DAPHNE

Don’t.

SLONE

You know him. That’s good, right?

DAPHNE

No, I don’t think so.

SLONE

Are we in trouble?

DAPHNE

You remem­bered to bring it, didn’t you?

SLONE

I think so…

Slone rifles around at her feet, looking for something…

DAPHNE

I set it aside for just this–

SLONE

Yes, yes, it’s here somewhere–

DAPHNE

It better be. Look for it. Make sure. I have to know where it is. Before he comes back.

SLONE

I am!

DAPHNE

Look for it, but don’t make it look like you’re looking for it. He might see you–

SLONE

It’s here somewhere!

DAPHNE

Don’t look des­per­ate. He might get suspicious.

SLONE

Okay! I get it!

Slone keeps looking, but more deliberately.

DAPHNE

I don’t get it. Why he stopped us. He had no reason to. This is what I warned you about, Slone. It’s all about con­trol­ling the women. Do you get it now? We can’t get our names on the list. He knows our names.

SLONE

List?

DAPHNE

The data­base! I told you about the database.

SLONE

(crying a little)

Oh, yeah, I forgot, but how would he find out–

DAPHNE

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to be sharp–

SLONE

Can he sep­a­rate us? Can he take me away? Force me–

DAPHNE

He’s just a vig­i­lante. A snitch. He wants money. Bounty is fifteen grand.

SLONE

Will we have to give him some?

DAPHNE

We can’t. We need it for you.

SLONE

I’m so sorry–

DAPHNE

We’ve kept our heads down. All this time, we’ve kept our heads down.

SLONE

But what if he tries to take me–

DAPHNE

He’ll take you away from me over my dead fucking body.

Wayne returns. Field hockey stick still in hand. A small BOX in the other.

DAPHNE

So, Wayne, is it all right for us to get going now? It’s getting late, and my sister–

WAYNE

Sure, sure. Just one thing.

He hands Daphne the box.

 

Got two preg­nan­cy tests right here. One for each of you. Over in those bushes you can pee. Pee on the stick. My guess is you know how these tests work. When they turn up neg­a­tive, you’re good to go. Easy as pie.

DAPHNE

You want us to take a preg­nan­cy test?

WAYNE

You got it, Dee-Dee. I knew you were smart.

DAPHNE

Is this even legal? You’re not a– What if I refuse?

WAYNE

You’re just going to see your sister, right? If you refuse, we have to go some­where, all three of us, and that takes time, and it can get real unpleasant.

DAPHNE

Wayne. Listen. This isn’t right. This isn’t fair. I don’t want to take this test. I don’t want to trau­ma­tize my daugh­ter. We have nothing. No money. Nothing. We just want to go see my sister. She’s dying. Let this go. Let us go. For old times’ sake. Go home to your preg­nant wife and chil­dren. Family is every­thing. You said that. Family is everything.

Wayne looks bored, tired of this traffic stop. Considers.

DAPHNE

We’re just going to see my sister. 

WAYNE

That right, Slone?

SLONE

We’re going to my aunt’s house.

DAPHNE

(to Wayne)

Go home to your family. They’re waiting for you. You’re a good father. Go hug your chil­dren. Your beau­ti­ful chil­dren. Chil­dren are the future.

Wayne takes the box back from Daphne.

WAYNE

All right then. Dee-Dee. For old times’ sake. 

(beat)

But since you won’t pee on a stick, I’m keeping your daughter’s.

Wayne flour­ish­es the field hockey stick. Laughs.

SLONE

(quietly)

What?

WAYNE

(to Slone)

I’m taking your hockey stick. This is my road.

SLONE

That a fact.

WAYNE

This is my road. Con­sid­er it a toll. Have a nice day, ladies.

Wayne turns to walk away. His back to the car.

Slone lifts up her arm in front of her mother and pulls the trigger on the GUN in her hand.

A SHOT rings out. Daphne screams. 

Wayne stum­bles forward a few steps away from the car, totters, and col­laps­es onto his stomach. Strug­gles, then lies still.

Daphne turns to her daugh­ter, takes the gun from her. Exits the car. 

She stands over Wayne’s body. Then leans down to pick up the field hockey stick. Returns to the car. Puts the stick in the back seat.

Daphne and Slone embrace. Then pull apart. Daphne pats her daughter’s hair. Smiles. Slone smiles back.

DAPHNE

We’ll be back in time for your game Friday.

Image by Josh Redd.