Mary Newman stars as Tess.
In the dim, flickering light of the cheap hotel room, Tess stands as a figure of raw, unfiltered humanity. The room itself is a chaotic mess, an echo of the turmoil within her. The television lies shattered on the floor, its broken glass shimmering like a pool of fragmented dreams. The bed, once a symbol of transient comfort, is now marred by a dark red stain—a grotesque reminder of the life violently taken. Tess, a woman in her twenties, embodies the stark contrast of vulnerability and hardened resilience. Her short black miniskirt, heels, and revealing blouse paint a picture of a life lived on the edge, yet her pale, frantic complexion speaks volumes of the terror she is barely keeping at bay.
As she digs through her small bag, her movements are frenetic, each gesture laden with desperation. The moment she retrieves her phone, her voice cuts through the silence, raw and impatient, a plea for connection and salvation. But when the call goes unanswered, her frustration boils over, and she hurls the phone away, the sound of its impact reverberating through the room like a death knell. The realization of where the phone has landed brings a new wave of horror. The sight of the blood-covered cowboy boots, partially obscured by the room’s debris, sends her into a paroxysm of fear, curling into a ball, her mind teetering on the edge of sanity.
The ringing phone jolts her back to the present, its shrill tone a cruel reminder of her dire situation. As she inches toward it, the camera follows her point of view, revealing the ghastly tableau of Bud’s corpse—a grotesque testament to the brutality he suffered. The blood still oozing from his neck tells a story of violence and despair, the stark contrast to Tess’s whispered prayers and frantic sobs as she answers the call.
In her interaction with Jessica, Tess’s fear and confusion are palpable. Her voice cracks under the weight of her grief, her words tumbling out in a torrent of panic. The story she relays is one of sudden, inexplicable violence, a nightmare that has torn through the fragile fabric of her reality. Bud, once her lover and protector, is now a lifeless shell, his final moments a blend of agony and delirium.
As Jessica reassures her and promises to come, a flicker of hope ignites in Tess’s eyes. But it is a fragile thing, easily snuffed out by the relentless encroachment of despair. She retreats back to her spot beside the bed, her mind unraveling as she rocks back and forth, her whispers a futile attempt to summon some semblance of peace.
The flashbacks to earlier in the night provide a stark contrast to the present horror. The room, once in order, now stands as a stark reminder of the transience of Tess’s brief moments of happiness. Her joyful counting of money, the cigarette smoke curling lazily around her, are now memories tainted by the bloodstains of the present.
Bud’s arrival, his body battered and bloodied, transforms Tess from a confident, if weary, survivor into a figure of raw panic. His incoherent explanations of the attack, the frenzied attempts to stem the bleeding, all unfold with a grim inevitability. The tenderness with which Tess cares for him, her desperate attempts to make sense of the chaos, underscore the depth of her love and the magnitude of her loss.
As Bud’s life ebbs away, Tess’s world collapses. The moment of his death is not just a physical loss but the shattering of her last bastion of safety and hope. Her monologue to his lifeless body, tinged with nostalgia and undying love, is a heart-wrenching testament to her grief. The ring he gave her, a symbol of their unspoken vows, glistens with a cruel irony against the backdrop of his death.
Jessica’s arrival brings a brief respite, a flicker of practicality in the midst of chaos. But even as they plan to move Bud’s body, Tess’s mind remains a tempest of fear and sorrow. The emergency broadcast they hear in the car serves as a grim backdrop to their journey, a reminder that the world outside is just as perilous as the one they are fleeing.
Newman portrays Tess as a figure of tragic resilience. Her journey from panic to tentative hope, from despair to a grim determination to survive, paints a vivid portrait of a woman caught in the throes of unimaginable horror. Her love for Bud, her desperate attempts to navigate the chaos, and her ultimate resolve to keep moving forward, mark her as a true survivor, a testament to the indomitable human spirit in the face of an impending attack of the undead.
“Here Lies Bud” is available on the DEATH WISHES DVD. To purchase, click below:
