You get one call. How 'bout it? (Beat) Didn't think so. Then I want this filled. (Slips off rain-wet knapsack)
Dave: (Taking knapsack) This...?
Anne: We don't have money.
Damon: You got what I want. Fill it with the "D," kiddies. While you wet your pants, the CIA's learning to spell. Fill it! Dy–na–mite. (Jerking Anne's arm up)
Anne: Ahahhh!
Jack: All right! I'll get it.
Damon: We'll all get it. (Jerks gun at them, pulls Anne along) Go ahead. Mama and I after you.
(They move to kitchen where Jack lifts crate onto table)
Dave: Excuse me, have you got bullets in that thing?
Damon: Open it.
(Jack opens crate)
Damon: Think you're putting me on? Drop the round eyes, Honky; you recollect. Where's the rest?!
Jack: This is it.
(Damon jerks Anne's arm. She screams)
Jack: All right! I’ll show you.
Dave: Excuse me, because if that gun’s loaded…
Jack: (Moving to stairs) How did you know...
Damon: (Follows, dragging Anne) Your system's got as many leaks as your braincase.
Anne: He knew who I was. Called me by name. Asked for you, too, Dave.
(Jack starts down. Damon holds Anne at top of stairs, nodding Dave and Beth down ahead. As Damon starts down, Anne slumps, as though fainting. Damon holds on, but Anne knocks his wrist hard against the banister, and the gun flies out of his hand. All startled. Involuntary yells)
Dave: (Scrambling to catch the gun) Fucking hell!
Jack: You're out of your mind, Anne!
Dave: (Wiping his forehead) Well, all things considered...
Jack: It could have gone off!
(Dave hands gun to Beth. She swiftly unloads it, and pockets the bullets)
Anne: Damned if I let this fool carry a gun into the workshop.
(Damon shoves between them toward the workshop)
Jack: Get him!
(Beth and Dave follow Damon, pin him before he can touch dynamite. He struggles wildly, smashing them about, but they hang on)
Dave: Crazy probably has a lighter on him, too.
Jack: Find out right now. (Searches Damon's pockets) Knife. Keys. Matches.
Dave: I could tell he went in for self-immolation.
Anne: No ID? Who are you!
Jack: How do you know Anne?
Anne: Who sent you?
(Damon spits in her face. She jerks the stocking off his head)
Anne: (Stunned, trying to place Damon) Who…?
Damon: (Scrambling away) I’m outta here.
(But Jack and Dave tackle Damon, pin him again)
Anne: I know him.
Damon: Like hell.
Anne: I know I do.
Jack: (Remembering) Damon!
Anne: That’s it.
Dave: You’re kidding.
Damon: That’s not me.
Anne: Damon McIntyre. He’s a Panther – Hampton circle.
Jack: (Letting him go) What the hell's coming down! We offered you people in on this.
Damon: Nobody wants in with you!
Jack: Then why are you here? I heard you're not touching the “D," so what happened? You have a change of plans?
Damon: (Very strung out, breathing in gasps) Plans? Yeah... (Choked laugh) Got new plans.
Jack: You were gonna stuff it in... Your knapsack’s wet! You'd get home with nothing but duds!
Damon: Just let me out of here.
Jack: Damon, we’d give you the stuff.
Damon: Bullshit! Me prancing into a suburban garden shop: "Where’d you say you live, boy?"
Anne: That's what we're talking! We can get it for you.
Jack: Christ, we’d have delivered!
Damon: Partners, huh? (Short laugh) For how long? Till we both get nabbed. Because no matter what bail gets smacked on you: 20, 30, 50 K...there comes Daddy, and you're home with an ice cream on the way. You can’t pretend we’re in the same war.
Jack: We've been fighting your war since Little Rock.
Damon: (Spitting the words, gasping) Excuse me, I'm feeling sick. (Frenzied– ) How am I gonna say it so you understand? We want nothing to do with you. You are in. the. way!
Anne: Then what are you doing here? All we want is to help you.
Damon: (Jerks toward Anne, his eyes suddenly wild) Don’t tell me it's you the King touched?
Anne: (Takes the blow, then hard) Why not use us?
Damon: Because you're sick! Our revolution is real – education, food, jobs. We've mobilized the people. And yes, we expect war. But then we've always been gunned down and lynched. We're just arming against the inevitable. But quietly, so quietly. And what do you give us in Chicago? Hyenas – riling the white kid hoodlums, getting ‘em on the rampage, busting up stores and cars, begging the pigs to come bash in your head. What the fuck has that to do with your “cause?” What did you think you'd prove?!
Beth: (Pause. Then quietly) That we could take it.
Damon: (Incredulous) What?
Beth: That we could take what you take...all your life. That me, soft little rich girl, could face the beast, let his club smash down, spurt my blood, hoping, at last you'd let me be like you.
Jack: We unleashed their brutishness; hoping to draw more people into the fight. We were wrong.
Damon: (Drained, staring at him) You remember when I met you, man?
Jack: Yeah, just before the Days of Rage.
Damon: I was at the meeting you had with our leadership.
Anne: With Fred Hampton and...
Damon: (Quick, sharp) Fred Hampton. You remember him?
Anne: He's the best you’ve got, but not flamboyant.
Damon: Yeah, quiet. He's quiet.
Anne: Jack's known him longer. I been trying to reach him all day.
Jack: Fred’ll want us together. He's amazingly wise, never resents...
Damon: (Blurting) Just tell me what our wise Freddy... (Stops, choked) What did he say to you that night. When you met. Can you remember that?
Anne: (Beat) He asked us to call off the Days of Rage. Said he wouldn't be associated. Said the whole thing was...suicidal.
Damon: But you went on. Now you say it was a failure. Yes, you did draw the bestial fury of the local pig-pen. But that fury did not sate itself on your skulls. Oh no. That fury smothered itself until it could find some game that's in season, always in season. So today...in the barely dawn morning, when they in Chicago were all laid-me-down-to-rest, our Freddy, poet of our strength, who asked you, who begged you to take your dangerous game and go away...was wakened by bullets. Pig bullets flashed through him and into his bed. His bed.
(While all stare at Damon, his rage breaks and he weeps)
Anne: (Quietly) No.
Jack: My god. Fred’s...?
Anne: (Louder) No.
Jack: Is he...
Damon: You got it, white boy. Ain't you proud.
Anne: (Shouts) No! (Twisting, gasping, desperate for breath; others startled) Not now, not...again. I can't. Please don't... No! I won't again. I didn't... No!!
Dave: (Trying to calm her) Anne, come. Breathe. Anne...
(Anne breaks away, runs up stairs. Dave follows. Jack has collapsed on chair. Beth stricken, moves toward Damon, her hands outstretched)
Damon: (Glaring at Beth) Keep it. Freddy got no use for it now.
(Anne, at the landing, takes a handful of shells, takes rifle, begins to load. Others numb)
Jack: Anne. (Calling) Anne. (He starts up stairs) What are you...?
Anne: Don't worry, Jack. I’ll take care of it.
Jack: Give me that.
(Dave starts up stairs, Damon watching; Beth still numb)
Anne: Won’t take long.
(Dave gets to landing. Jac
k moves to cover the door)
Anne: (Ready to move) I'll kill...
Dave: (Grabbing her) Who? Who, Anne. It didn't happen here.
Anne: I have to.
Dave: You won't get anywhere.
Jack: (Moving in to her) Give me that.
Anne: (Clutching rifle, crouching, shouts) Damon. Damon!
(Damon moves up the stairs. Beth follows)
Anne: It's loaded, Damon. Take it. (Hands him rifle) Shoot me. Please. I'll stand here. It's my fault, what happened to Fred. Please do it. The King told me; I didn't listen. In the head. Do it for God's sake.
Damon: There's no way you can pay, lady.
(Anne, weeping, slides to floor. Beth comforts her)
Beth: Cry. That's right.
(All in tableau of mourning. Then Beth draws Anne to “bird room,” where they settle; Jack and Dave sink to sit, while Damon, unnoticed, will take the lantern, and move down stairs to cellar)
Anne: (Bleary from shock) You shouldn’t have come back. You knew the violence would…
Beth: Hush.
Anne: You wanted out. I should have let you go.
Beth: You did.
Anne: I pressured you because I couldn’t...
Beth: I’d follow you anywhere, Anne, but I didn’t come back for you.
Anne: You’re the strong one.
Beth: Maya’s everywhere.
Anne: Whatever I touch dies.
Beth: How could I tell her I quit?
Anne: Everytime they die. (Sobs)
Beth: (Rocking her) Shhhh, don’t think.
Anne: (Silence) Jack wasn’t supposed to be here.
Beth: Sleep.
Anne: And between him and me it was only…
Beth: (Can’t go there) Don’t.
(Dave has climbed to them, checks Anne for shock, covers her. Beth finds Damon's gun making a lump in her pocket. She looks at it; Jack is below)
Jack: (Shakes off shock, wonders– ) Damon?
(Damon in cellar, has packed sticks of dynamite in a plastic bag. Jack gropes down dark stairs. Hearing Jack, Damon sets lantern on a crate, and starts to open another)
Jack: (Stumbling, on his way to the cellar) Damon?
(Damon leans against stack of crates, his arms folded, waiting. Jack stops, frozen at the sight)
Damon: (Pause) You don't have the look of a man who wants to share.
Jack: (Frozen) The lamp.
Damon: (Sharp) What?
Jack: The lamp. Just...could you, carefully, pick it up. Move it away from the dynamite.
Damon: (Casually) Oh. Sure. (Damon reaches over, picks up the lantern easily)
Jack: . (Collapses, relieved) Jesus. If you’re not stuffing it into a wet knapsack, you're...
Damon: (Moving past Jack to stairs with plastic bag full and lantern) Yeah well, Stanford doesn’t give credits in bomb-making.
Jack: (Following him up) What are you...?
Damon: (Moving into kitchen) Cashing in, Honky.
(Damon sets the lamp down, grabs his knapsack, heads for the door. Jack lunges to reach him. His hand lands on Damon's shoulder)
Jack: It's ah...not so simple.
Damon: (Twisting fast) Putting prints on the skin?
Jack: Can't let you go, man.
Damon: What!?
(Damon tears away from Jack towards the door. Jack jumps on his back. They tumble, begin a fight that gets brutal. Above, Dave hears, creeps down stairs. Beth is staring out window. Damon is letting out his anguish in a frenzied pounding of Jack. Dave grabs Damon from behind)
Jack: (Gasping) Just pin him. Pin him! (They manage to hold onto Damon until he stops flailing)
Damon: Let me outta here!
Jack: (Catching breath) Can't.
Damon: You guys have lost it...
Jack: (Icy) How did you find us. You had the East Third address, but not this one, so how...
Damon: (Struggles, but they hold him) East Third stinks of pig.
Jack: (Shouts) That's what I'm talking! What do you know?!
Damon: (Slow grin) I know Dave.
Jack: (Spins on Dave) What?
Dave: I never...
Damon: Your wagon’s down the street, and Stafford's the name on the bell.
Jack: (Eyes them both, mistrustful, but releases Damon) If you smelled pig, you can guess the scene. East Third got hit this afternoon.
Damon: So why you still here?
Jack: They must not have this place figured. Yet.
Damon: (Beat) I got brothers to get to.
Jack: Just for the night, man. I'm asking. Till we get word on East Third.
(Damon hisses. Jack backs toward the stairs)
Jack: I can't do the smart thing. Can't tie you up. Cannot do it.
Damon: (Glaring at Jack as he climbs and disappears) That is why you lose, man. Every time.
Dave: (Watching Damon)