I Walked with a Zombie Page #12

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VOODOO WORSHIPPERS

(shouting)

Damballa! Damballa!

The Sabreur dances forward, sword in his left hand and a

little plate with rice cakes, in his right. He kneels down

and places the plate near the door jamb. A line forms at the

door. Betsy leading Jessica by the hand takes her place with

the rest. She is third in the line of suppliants. She can

see the whole procedure. The suppliant places his forehead

against the forehead of the god painted on the door, and

speaks. The first suppliant is a weary-looking field hand

who shuffles to the door and speaks in such a low tone that

his words cannot be heard. The second suppliant is an old

woman, thin and work-worn. She speaks sincerely and humbly

and Betsy, directly behind her, hears her words.

OLD WOMAN:

Damballa -- my son don't take care

of me.

VOICE OF DAMBALLA

Tell him his own little son will

grow big. He, himself, will grow

old. The son learns from the

father. One day your son may stand

here to complain that his boy does

not take care of him.

The old woman turns away, comforted -- hopeful. Betsy looks

at her. She can see tears in the old woman's eyes. With

Jessica's hand in hers, Betsy takes her place at the door.

She puts her forehead against the crudely painted forehead of

the god. She talks to the door.

BETSY:

Damballa! This woman is sick.

The door swings open slowly. The feeble light of the outer

Houmfort does not penetrate the darkness of the inner temple.

A hand reaches out from the darkness and takes Betsy's hand

and draws her in. The Houngan follows Betsy into the temple.

The door shuts behind him. Jessica remains outside, standing

before the door.

INT. INNER HOUMFORT - NIGHT

A match flares and a hand brings it forward to light an oil

lamp which flares brightly, revealing a little room of

whitewashed boards, bare except for a table on which stands a

small iron tripod from which an iron pot is suspended.

Although there is no fire under the pot, the steam rises from

this receptacle and water boils and bubbles in it.

It is the Houngan who has lit the lamp and, on the other side

of the table is Mrs. Rand. Her face is serious and unsmiling.

BETSY:

(starting forward around

the table)

Mrs. Rand.

MRS. RAND

Wait. Don't draw any conclusions.

Let me explain.

BETSY:

But, Mrs. Rand --

MRS. RAND

I knew you'd come. And I knew I'd

have to come up here and talk to

you. I couldn't let you go back

without any word. I came to tell

you again -- Jessica cannot be

cured.

BETSY:

But how did you get here? What

are you doing here?

MRS. RAND

I asked you to let me explain. It's a

long story. And not an easy one --

EXT. THE HOUMFORT - NIGHT

Jessica stands patiently where Betsy had left her. The

Sabreur and two Mam-Lois stand near her looking at her and

talking. We cannot hear what they say. The drumming and the

song of joy for the coming of Damballa continue over the

scene. Suddenly, as if he had arrived at some decision, the

Sabreur, holding his sword stiffly in front of him, starts

toward Jessica with little mincing steps.

INT. INNER HOUMFORT -- NIGHT

Mrs. Rand, as if continuing with something she has been

talking about for a long time --

MRS. RAND

-- and when my husband died I felt

helpless. They disobeyed me --

things went from bad to worse. All

my husband's dreams of good health,

good sanitation, good morals for

these sweet and gentle people

seemed to die with him.

(pauses)

Then, almost accidentally, I

discovered the secret of how to

deal with them. There was a girl

with a baby -- again and again I

begged her to boil the drinking

water. She never would. Then I told

her the god, Shango, would be

pleased and kill the evil spirits

in the water if she boiled it. She

boiled the water from then on.

BETSY:

But you didn't have to come up

here.

MRS. RAND

Perhaps not. But I did come here

and I found it was so simple to let

the gods speak through me. Once

started, it seemed such an easy way

to do good. I should have known

there was no easy way to do good,

Betsy.

PAGE MISSING WHERE THE SABREUR CUTS JESSICA'S ARM AND SHE

DOES NOT BLEED. THE WORSHIPPERS REALIZE SHE IS A "ZOMBIE".

MRS. RAND (CONT'D)

Betsy! Get her away -- back to the

Fort! Do as I say -- they won't

hurt you.

ANOTHER ANGLE - SHOOTING TOWARD the inner Houmfort. Betsy

runs out from the doorway, takes hold of Jessica's arm and

starts running with her. There is a movement in the crowd as

if they were about to follow her. From the doorway of the

inner Houmfort, the Houngan calls out:

HOUNGAN:

Trouble. Bad trouble. Let her go.

The crowd subsides.

DISSOLVE:

EXT. THE BANYAN TREE -- NIGHT

Betsy and Jessica pass quickly under the dead goat, on their

way home.

EXT. GARDEN AT FORT HOLLAND -- NIGHT

Betsy comes out of the tower door, closing it behind her very

quietly and cautiously. She starts across the garden toward

her room. From the shadows, Holland steps out barring her

way.

HOLLAND:

Where have you been, Miss Connell?

There is a pause. Holland stands looking at her, taking in

her bedraggled appearance.

BETSY:

(wearily)

I wanted to help you.

HOLLAND:

Help me? How?

BETSY:

I took Mrs. Holland to the

Houmfort. I thought they might

cure her.

HOLLAND:

You have deliberately endangered

Mrs. Holland's life. There's no

telling what you may have started

with this insanity. Why did you do

it?

BETSY:

(in a low tone)

I told you.

HOLLAND:

Because you wanted to give my wife

back to me? Why should that mean

anything to you?

BETSY:

(not looking at him)

You know why. You saw it the other

night at the piano. You turned

away from me.

HOLLAND:

(putting his hand on her

shoulder, looking into

her face very closely)

What I saw the other night, I

didn't dare believe, Betsy --

Betsy tries to turn away from him. He grips her shoulders

tightly.

HOLLAND (cont'd)

I thought I was looking at a woman

who loved me and had compassion for

me. Yet you made that trip to the

Houmfort to bring Jessica back to

me --

BETSY:

Yes.

Holland pulls her close to him, looks down into her eyes.

HOLLAND:

You think I love Jessica and want

her back. It is like you to think

that -- clean, decent thinking.

BETSY:

(simply)

She was beautiful.

HOLLAND:

I hated her.

Betsy looks up at him, astounded by his words.

HOLLAND (cont'd)

Her selfishness made her empty and

dead. She was a possession, a

beautiful possession to own and

hold -- but I never had a moment's

peace or happiness with her.

They stand there, close together, looking at each other.

Suddenly Holland puts her arms around her.

HOLLAND (cont'd)

Betsy --

She lifts her face, with a smile of complete love and trust.

Holland studies her face longingly, but does not kiss her.

HOLLAND (cont'd)

I should never have brought you

here.

BETSY:

There's no happiness for me

anywhere else --

Holland shakes his head slowly, hopelessly.

BETSY (cont'd)

(pleading)

Paul, I don't want you to be alone,

unhappy --

Holland lets his arms drop from about her shoulders.

HOLLAND:

(coldly)

I may prefer it that way.

They stand looking at each other. The garden is still with

the dead, heavy stillness of their hopelessness. Then, from

the direction of the Houmfort, there is the sound of a single

conch blowing, loudly and insistent, a thinner, higher call

than we have heard before.

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