Mercy Read online

  MERCY:

  Pray with me Randy.

  NARRATOR:

  So they prayed. And Randy asked for forgiveness and he got right with God, and soon their kneeling position became prone and Mercy made the sacrifice. She enjoyed it. It was like old sinful times, but for a good cause. Randy fell asleep there in front of the fire place, and Mercy – still naked as God had made her – slipped into the kitchen and found the biggest butcher knife she’d ever seen. She was raising it in two hands, clutched in her prayer-like grasp, when Randy awoke and looked up at the blade pointing at his bare chest.

  RANDY:

  Mercy! What the hell!

  MERCY:

  Randy, you’re right with God now. But what if you slipped? What if you slipped?

  RANDY:

  No!

  SOUND:

  The knife stabs deep.

  RANDY:

  No. . . (gurgling). . .muh-mer-see. . .

  SOUND:

  Stabbing. Again and again and again.

  MUSIC:

  Fangoria theme comes up.

  ANNOUNCER:

  We’ll return to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories – after these few words.

  ANNOUNCER:

  Now back to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories and “Mercy.”

  NARRATOR:

  Living alone as she did, Mercy performed the clean-up herself, at her leisure. That she and Randy had both been nude had been helpful. But disposing of him was problematic.

  MERCY:

  (to herself) Can’t go dragging Randy off and just dropping him somewhere. Might be seen. . .God would understand, but would the police?

  NARRATOR:

  So she went to the body of the boy she’d saved from hell, took him by the ankles, and dragged him to the old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub. Somehow she got him up and over and in. Her father had been in the grocery business and she’d seen sides of beef cut up often enough as a child; and she was just about the least squeamish person in Biology class. So cutting Randy into pieces was difficult work but less disturbing then you might think. She sang “Amazing Grace” as she worked, and had two epiphanies: one, she had nice enough a voice to join Pastor Strickland’s choir; and two, saving Randy from Hell by offering herself to him. . .by using the perfect body God had given her as a sort of offering. . .suggested that path to redemption the Pastor had spoken of. Mercy had found her calling. . .

  MERCY:

  (to herself) Okay. . .now what?. . .Of course, tonight is garbage night. . .

  ANNOUNCER:

  And so Mercy tidied up – the parts that had been Randy fit nicely in three triple-bagged garbage bags, taking up two of her grandmother’s garbage cans. . .with room for another bag from the kitchen on top. Hauling the trash cans out to the curb took only minimal effort. And cleaning the tub and the hard wood flooring was a breeze. . .

  SOUND:

  Morning sounds – birds chirping, cars starting. A garbage truck rumbles toward mic, stops down the street. Throughout next dialogue sequence, garbage truck keeps moving and stopping, as cans at the curb are emptied in back of the truck. Phone rings.

  MERCY:

  (sleepy) Hello?

  PASTOR:

  (telephone) Sorry to call so early, child. But I wanted to remind you about Bible studies this evening.

  MERCY:

  Thank you, Pastor. I hadn’t forgotten.

  PASTOR:

  (telephone) You’re still in bed, aren’t you child?

  MERCY:

  Afraid so.

  PASTOR:

  (telephone) Well, go to the window and look at the beautiful Fall day the Lord has provided, and get your pretty little bottom off to school.

  MERCY:

  Yes, Pastor. Thanks for calling. . .

  SOUND:

  Bed springs. Feet pad on floor, then window opens, letting morning sounds in, including garbage truck, about a door away now.

  MERCY:

  (to herself) What a lovely day. Thank you, God. Thank you.

  SOUND:

  Garbage truck louder, stopping nearby. Garbage can being emptied into back of truck. Out front of Mercy’s house. Another can, its contents thudding noisily into back of truck.

  MERCY:

  (sincere – no irony) You’re welcome, Randy.

  NARRATOR:

  The absence of Randy Johnson at school the next day went unnoticed – neither his failing to return home the night before, nor his failure to be in class today, were at all out of the ordinary. Today was like any other day at Clarion High, except for an appointment Mercy had been putting off, with Mr. Dickey, the guidance counselor. After school, in his third-floor office.

  DICKEY:

  Come in, Mercy! Come in. Sit right there on the couch.

  MERCY:

  All right, Mr. Dickey.

  DICKEY:

  Please, Mercy. We don’t stand on ceremony, remember? Not old friends like us. Call me Dan.

  NARRATOR:

  Mr. Dickey – Dan – wasn’t just a counselor. He also taught a few classes of algebra. For a teacher, Mercy supposed, he was pretty young – late twenties? He had a wife and a little baby at home. And last year, in this office, she had earned an A from Mr. Dickey in a subject that up till then she’d been failing. . .until her oral exam. . .

  DICKEY:

  You don’t mind if I sit next to you, here on the couch?

  MERCY:

  No, Mr. Dickey.

  DICKEY:

  Dan. Make it Dan. We’re overdue for a talk about this terrible tragedy.

  NARRATOR:

  And for half an hour, with hardly a word from Mercy, the counselor counseled her – assuring her that she need feel no guilt for making this one small mistake. . .”One small mistake,” Mercy thought, that had cost Clarion High most of its first-string footballers!

  DICKEY:

  Oh, I’m afraid I’ve gone on and on. . .do you have anywhere you need to be?

  MERCY:

  No, I’m living alone now.

  DICKEY:

  That’s right! That’s right, I heard that. . .do you mind if I shut the door?

  MERCY:

  I don’t mind, but I think all the office staff is gone already.

  SOUND:

  Dickey getting up off couch. A few footsteps.

  DICKEY:

  Everyone does seem to have skedaddled. But still, better we preserve your privacy. Delicate subject.

  SOUND:

  Door closes. Lock click. Quick footsteps. Dickey sits down again.

  DICKEY:

  I understand you’ve had something of a. . .religious conversion.

  MERCY:

  Well, Grandma went to Pastor Strickland’s church regularly. Sometimes I went, too. But I never took it seriously till now.

  DICKEY:

  You’re, uh. . .born again?

  MERCY:

  I’m right with God.

  DICKEY:

  So you, uh. . .your sins are forgiven?

  MERCY:

  Oh yes.

  DICKEY:

  Well, that’s wonderful. Mercy, uh. . .about last year. . .our little relationship. . .

  MERCY:

  It wasn’t a relationship exactly.

  DICKEY:

  No, but you were very warm to me, and I hope I was, uh, understanding in return, and, well. . .now that you have this new- found faith, I’m wondering if you must, uh. . .are you compelled to. . .?

  MERCY:

  I’m not going to tell on you, Mr.

  Dickey. Dan.

  DICKEY:

  (very relieved) Good, I. . .well, that was inappropriate, last year, and I’m really sorry.

  MERCY:

  It was sinful. You’re a married man. You have a small child.

  DICKEY:

  I am. I only wish I could make amends to you, somehow.

  MERCY:

  You need to make amends with God.

  DICKEY:

  Yes! Yes. I’m a pretty religious person myself,
actually. That would a fine solution. Shall we. . .pray together?

  NARRATOR:

  And once again, Mercy got on her knees in Mr. Dickey’s office. But this time so did he. They knelt together. Prayed. And, with Mercy’s prompting, Mr. Dickey indeed got right with God. Just after he got right with God, however, Mr. Dickey put his hands on Mercy. . .in an inappropriate manner. . .

  MERCY:

  You see, Mr. Dickey! You’ve slipped already.

  DICKEY:

  You’re so lovely. . .such an angel. . . (out of breath) Air. . .I need some air. . .

  NARRATOR:

  Mr. Dickey got to his feet and went to the window.

  SOUND:

  Window raises. Night sounds.

  DICKEY:

  I’m not a nice person, Mercy. I’m really not.

  MERCY:

  We’ll pray again. You will be right with God, Mr. Dickey. You will be.

  NARRATOR:

  So they prayed there at the window, in the crisp fresh air, until dusk turned into a starry evening. When their prayers had ceased, Mr. Dickey took her in his arms.

  MR. DICKEY:

  You’re a special young woman, Mercy. Very special.

  NARRATOR:

  There wasn’t much time. Mr. Dickey was faltering. Before he could slip from grace, Mercy gave him a firm but loving shove. . .and he slipped from the window. . .

  SOUND:

  Dickey screaming, then SPLATTING.

  NARRATOR:

  . . .to the hard cement three stories below.

  MUSIC:

  Up.

  ANNOUNCER:

  We’ll return to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories – after this.

  ANNOUNCER:

  And now back to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories and the conclusion to “Mercy.”

  NARRATOR:

  The tragic “suicide” of guidance counselor Dan Dickey attracted no more attention than the disappearance of Randy Johnson, who had after all been threatening to “blow this pop stand” for years. So Mercy became convinced of the righteousness of her calling. As fall turned into winter, Mercy saved a number of troubled souls from perdition. Take that spoiled rich kid, Peter Bishop, who took advantage of his parents being away to invite Mercy over to try out his new hot tub.

  SOUND:

  Jacuzzi bubbling.

  PETER:

  Ah, it feels good to be right with God, you sweet thing. . .so gooood. . .

  NARRATOR:

  The hot tub provided Mercy with the chance to perform her first Baptism. Peter was a dissipated youth, but holding him under would have been a problem. When the opportunity to wrap her legs around his neck presented itself, that problem disappeared along with Peter’s sins. . .

  SOUND:

  Jacuzzi bubbling. Splashing, growing more and more frantic.

  PETER:

  No, Mercy! No, Mercy! (gurgling)

  SOUND:

  Bubbling and splashing, then bubbling, then easy waves. Click of Jacuzzi motor shutting off.

  NARRATOR:

  With the buds of May displaying themselves in colorful profusion, Mercy went on a picnic with gifted nerd Oscar Pike, whose computer skills were for sale to his fellow students.

  SOUND:

  Outdoors, birds, breeze, maybe a distant dog bark; running water of a nearby stream.

  OSCAR:

  Yeah, Mercy, you wouldn’t believe how much dough I got stashed away, L.O.L. Selling porn site codes to tweens, fixing grades in the school’s data base. Man, there’s nothing I can’t do online.

  MERCY:

  But Oscar, you can’t get right with God with a few key strokes.

  OSCAR:

  (disappointed) I thought you’d be impressed. . .D.F.I.!

  MERCY:

  Oh, I am by your skills. Your mind. But intellectual values pale next to spiritual growth. I could never be with a boy who wasn’t one with the Lord.

  OSCAR:

  Well, uh. . .B.T.W., I’m willing to learn!

  NARRATOR:

  And there, in the cool shade of a magnificent oak, with a babbling brook nearby, sharing a picnic lunch on a checkered tablecloth with not even an ant to disturb them, she schooled Oscar in the ways of righteousness, and he confessed his many (though to Mercy somewhat boring) sins.

  OSCAR:

  So, uh. . .I’m free of sin now, right? Now maybe we could, W.T.F.,. . .I dunno know. . .

  MERCY:

  How about a skinny dip?

  OSCAR:

  O.M.G., yeah!

  NARRATOR:

  And soon, swimming under the sun as God had made them, they splashed and kissed and she rewarded him.

  SOUND:

  Splashing, frolicking.

  OSCAR:

  I can’t believe this! Woot! This is frickin’ great! R.M.S.! The most beautiful girl in school. . .the most beautiful girl anywhere. . .and she’s mine, all mine! Nailed it!

  MERCY:

  (having fun) How long can you stay under? I’ll time you. . .

  OSCAR:

  Okay! W.T.F.N.?

  SOUND:

  Oscar goes underwater with a big splash. Then sounds of struggle, splashing, gurgling, gurgling, gurgling.

  OSCAR:

  (underwater) W.T.F.! W.T.F.!

  NARRATOR:

  And performing this second Baptism was much easier. Mercy barely needed both hands holding Oscar under. . .and, after, when he floated on his belly like a fish without a loaf, he seemed so peaceful. He had left these earthly woes behind, on his laptop hard drive. He was in a better place.

  SOUND:

  School hallway, bell rings, kids bustling, as before.

  CINDI:

  Mercy! Hey, wait up.

  MERCY:

  (sincere) Hi, Cindi. You look nice today.

  CINDI:

  Yeah, well. . .look, I wanna make amends.

  MERCY:

  (hopeful) Oh?

  CINDI:

  I was wrong about you. I thought this I-found-hay-zeus thing was just an act. Something you put on to try to make people think you were sorry for what happened last fall.

  MERCY:

  I am sorry.

  CINDI:

  (no irony) Yeah, I think you are. I know we’ll never be friends, but I just wanted you to know. . .no hard feelings.

  MERCY:

  Bless you for that.

  CINDI:

  I mean, with all these deaths lately, it makes you think. Sorta. . .re-evaluate. It’s almost like God has it in for poor little Clarion.

  MERCY:

  No! God loves everyone here and everywhere.

  CINDI:

  Sometimes He has a funny way of showing it. I mean, first Peter Bishop. . .I mean he was an awful person, but. . .to get boozed up and fall asleep and drown in your own hot tub. Ewww. Then Oscar Pike goes swimming by himself, like he could swim, and the poor nerd drowns, too? It’s an epidemic! And our guidance counselor kills himself? What kind of way to guide impressionable young minds is that?

  MERCY:

  The Lord moves in mysterious ways.

  CINDI:

  No shit!

  MERCY:

  Cin – if you ever want to talk, you can come over to my house. Sometimes it helps to just. . .unburden yourself.

  CINDI:

  Okay, maybe I will. (laughs) I been thinkin’ maybe it’s time to take the “sin” out of “Cindi.”

  MERC:

  Never too late.

  CINDI:

  Anyway, I was gonna mention. . .I signed up for that church retreat this weekend.

  MERCY:

  Awesome!

  SOUND:

  Bell rings.

  CINDI:

  (off-mic) I’ll see you there!

  SOUND:

  Narrator’s speech below, drop in some car engine noise and perhaps a car door slamming at appropriate points.

  NARRATOR:

  Mercy had already been looking forward to the Bible study retreat out at the church camp grounds. In
jeans and t-shirt, she drove out there late Friday afternoon, pulling up the gravel drive into the open space set within a cathedral of sun-shimmering trees. She was surprised that only one other car was there – Pastor Strickland’s. Was she early?

  SOUND:

  Outdoor sounds.

  PASTOR:

  (off-mic) Mercy! Mercy, come inside the lodge house!

  SOUND:

  Footsteps on gravel. Door opening, closing.

  MERCY:

  Where is everybody?

  PASTOR:

  The rest of the kids won’t be coming till tomorrow around noon. This is just my little surprise.

  MERCY:

  Oh?

  PASTOR:

  After meeting so often at my house for our Bible Study sessions? Figured this would make a nice change of setting. We can get a jump on this retreat.