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by M Kalb (kalbmarie@yahoo.com)

Rated: PG-13   Genre: Drama   User Review: ***
This is just the Beginning.

This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.


It is evening in suburbia, the first stars poking out of an
ever-darker sky, the fluorescent yellow streetlights just
beginning to cast their unnatural hues on the world.
The streetlights turn on in perfect sequence along the
street. One light, then the next, then the next.
And then it flickers. The light in front of 36 Patterson
Drive sputters and buzzes for a moment, disrupting the
choreography of the street.
The yellow light finally shines steady, emitting a quiet,
insect-like hum.
A WOMAN in the dining room of 36 Patterson Drive stares out
the window at the streetlight.
The WOMAN doesn't seem to be looking at anything in
particular outside. She just stares straight ahead, worry
lines deepening by the minute.
Her HUSBAND enters behind her. Watches her stare for a
She'll be back.
The WOMAN turns to look at PHILLIP, forces a smile.
I know. It's the 'in one piece'
part that I'm worried about.
She's fine. She'll probably call
in five minutes, wondering if she
can sleep over at Jane's again.
He puts a hand on his wife's cheek. She covers it with her
own, smiling a little.
I know.
They stand there for a second.


On the other hand, Susan might be
dead in a ditch.
LINDA snorts. PHILLIP kisses her on the forehead.
She's upstairs.
All day? I haven't seen her since
she reared her head this morning.
She said she had homework to do.
LINDA rolls her eyes.
Go check on her if you want,
Mister Skeptical. I have dishes to
We'll trade. I'll do the dishes,
and you can go see if our daughter
is still alive and well.
I'm sensing an ulterior motive
Of course not. I've had this
craving to clean dishes all week.
It's been driving me insane.
LINDA gives him a look.
Or maybe I'm just being nice
because I love you?
She sighs sarcastically.
You're incorrigible.


The word you're searching for is
She smiles in spite of herself. Teasingly claps him on the
cheek as she heads upstairs.
Have fun with the dishes.
He smiles after her, watches her go as she climbs the
LINDA forces herself to stop smiling as she reaches the top
of the stairs. She clears her throat, smooths her face,
knocks on her older daughter's door.
Susan? Susan, are you in there?
No reply. LINDA knocks again.
Oh, Suzie Q! You there?
Still no reply. She frowns, makes to turn the doorknob.
She jumps a tiny bit as the door pushes forward, already
slightly ajar.
She pokes her head in.
She notices the girl, fast asleep on her desk, head on an
open textbook.
She rolls her eyes.
Susan, wake up, I've been calling
you for ages.
SUSAN doesn't move...or even visibly breathe, or let out a
snore for that matter. LINDA looks concerned, approaches


I'm serious. You haven't left your
room since ten this morning. Get
up and stretch. Chug some coffee.
Do something.
No response. Frustrated, LINDA shakes her daughter's
SUSAN'S hand flops limply off the desk. A look of
bewilderment crosses LINDA'S face, quickly replaced by shock
and then horror.
Susan? Susan, are you okay? Wake
up, honey, wake up.
Panicked, LINDA starts to turn to the doorway.
SUSAN SITS UP abruptly.
LINDA lets out a little shriek of terror. Claps a hand over
her heart.
Jesus Christ. Don't mess around
like that, Sue. You scared me.
She shakes her head, rubbing her eyes. Notices that SUSAN
hasn't moved.
For heavens sake, if you're
honestly that exhausted you should
just go to bed.
No response.
LINDA puts a hand on SUSAN'S shoulder.
Bed, Susan. That thing on the
other side of your...


SUSAN has been slowly turning her head to face LINDA since
the moment she felt contact on her shoulder.
LINDA trails off and gasps as she takes in SUSAN'S
Her skin is a mess of pale skin mixed with bruise-like
discolorations. But it is her eyes that are most startling:
the whites of her eyes are bloodshot and tinged with yellow,
her pupils are enormous, and her irises are a feral,
wolf-like color.
As if the name were some kind of cue, SUSAN finally
responds--but not in the way her mother had hoped.
Ever so slowly, she rises to her feet clumsily. We notice
her legs, thin and greenish in hue, bones jutting out at the
She struggles to find her balance on her newly destroyed
legs, but begins to limp towards her mother with the
intensity of a predator on a blood trail, her eyes burning
holes into her mother's forehead.
LINDA backs away frantically, unwilling to hurt her daughter
but terrified of what she has become.
Oh my God.
In her panic, she stumbles, barely catches herself an inch
from the ground, supporting herself on her daughter's
nightstand with one hand.
Phil! Phillip, call 911!
She scrabbles away from her daughter desperately, searching
for anything to use as a shield, something that won't hurt


A haunted look crosses her eyes as she realizes she is
cornered, her screams have gone unanswered, and the thing
that was her daughter is coming ever closer.
      (a whimper)
                                         CUT TO:
A scream echoes through the air.
The streetlight outside 36 Patterson Drive flickers and
                                         OPENING CREDITS.
HADRIAN GREY, a medical intern in his mid-twenties, takes a
sip of his morning coffee serenely.
As he raises the cup to his lips, he sees a MAN immersed in
a folder walk past the open door of the BREAK ROOM.
He coughs, accidentally spills some coffee down his front as
he makes to follow the MAN.

Cursing quietly, he blots up the coffee with a wad of
napkins, to the amusement of a pair of cute NURSES at an
adjacent table.
He hurries after the MAN, knocking some papers off the edge
of a table as he leaves.
DR. JAMES WARDEN, a physician in his late 50s, walks down
the hall with purpose, his nose buried in a folder. A pair
of reading glasses sits on the edge of his nose.


                       HADRIAN (O.S.)
Dr. Warden! Dr. Warden! Sir!
WARDEN stops, turns to survey HADRIAN over the tops of his
glasses just as the young man rounds the corner of the
HADRIAN, panting, comes to a halt next to WARDEN.

With HADRIAN caught up, WARDEN continues down the hallway on
his business. HADRIAN follows doggedly.
What can I do for you, Mr. Grey?
Is it true?
That depends on what you mean by
The autopsies on those murder
victims. Is it true? You're doing
Yes, I am. Dare I ask why it is of
any concern to you?
Well, I was just thinking, if you
needed an assistant, I'm
Available? If I'm not mistaken,
you have morgue duty on Tuesday
I can get Gordon to cover it.
No. Absolutely not. Gordon has
other duties tonight.
Such as?


WARDEN'S silence says it all. HADRIAN stops in his tracks.
You've got to be kidding me.
HADRIAN jogs to catch up with WARDEN, desperate.
C'mon, you know how badly I wanted
this job! Gordon doesn't care
about any of it...
They both come to an abrupt stop. HADRIAN crosses his arms
WARDEN removes his reading glasses and rubs his eyes.
I'm sorry. But Gordon has
He fixes his reading glasses. With a sympathetic pat to
HADRIAN'S shoulder, WARDEN leaves.
HADRIAN sighs in surrender.
ALICE LOOMS, 19, is eccentric but not unprofessional-looking
with dark, messy hair and light eyes that seem to constantly
be taking in information, planning.
LOOMS' CAR would make your average teenager's bedroom look
organized by comparison. There might be a passenger seat
somewhere under the mess of papers, folders, notebooks, and
magazines, but it's very well camouflaged.
LOOMS' driving is slightly erratic, and she remains slightly
above the speed limit throughout her commute.
Her phone rings.
She glances around the road, answers her cell phone.


                       MORGAN (O.S.)
      (over the phone)
Looms, is that you?
No, it's Benjamin Franklin. I'm
driving. What's up?
                       MORGAN (O.S.)
      (over the phone)
I wanted to check in. How'd the
interview go?
Do you have the number for St.
Lucy's psychiatric ward?
                       MORGAN (O.S.)
      (over the phone)
Speed-dial number five. Should I
make the reservation under
It's not for me, ass-hat. The
woman I interviewed was a lunatic.
There's no story here. She spent
two hours offering me tea and
telling me the government's been
tapping her phone.
A beat. LOOMS frowns at her cell phone.
                       MORGAN (O.S.)
      (over the phone)
I'm still waiting for the crazy
Oh please, not this again.
                       MORGAN (O.S.)
      (over the phone)
Think about it! I mean, why else
would they keep the Patriot Act
around if they didn't...


MORGAN goes off on a tangent, his voice fading into silence
as LOOMS' gaze is caught by something out her window.
She sees a SUBURBAN HOUSE, cordoned off with caution tape,
several cop cars parked in and around the driveway. Two
CORONERS exit the front door of the house, pulling a BODY
BAG on a stretcher under the direction of a COP.
                       MORGAN (O.S.)
      (abruptly audible)
LOOMS is jarred out of her reverie. She shakes her head,
pulls her car to the side of the road.
Morgan, I'll call you back later.
                       MORGAN (O.S.)
      (over the phone)
Wait! I have a story I---
LOOMS hangs up the phone and parks her car. She stuffs the
keys in her pocket, gets out of the car, and slams the door
behind her.
LOOMS across the road, approaches the house curiously. Her
eyes light up.
Glancing around, she slips under the 'caution' tape. The COP
and CORONERS, intent on packing up and loading the body into
the van, don't notice her sneak past.
She walks silently around the back of the house. She finds a
side door slight ajar. She glances behind her, and steps
through without a creak.
She has made it to apparent safety, with nobody around to
catch her. She exhales quietly.

She notices a WINDOW on the first floor with a gaping hole
in the middle, cracks radiating out from the impact.

She crosses the yard, examines the WINDOW. It is a little
too high for her to reach.


She casts her eyes around, they settle on a COOLER. Looking
around in case anyone hears her, she slides the COOLER a few
feet so it rests under the WINDOW.
She steps on top of it with a creak and shimmies
ungracefully inside.
The room is bare, all signs of life erased from it.

Puzzled, LOOMS looks around for evidence of a crime.

Her gaze settles on the corner of the room, and a horrified
expression crosses her face.

Wide-eyed, she inches closer to the corner.
There is blood everywhere--on the walls, on the floor;
stains shaped like puddles, stains in splatter
patterns...stains from human hands, fighting or scrabbling
to get away from some terrifying menace.
LOOMS reaches out to touch the wall to see if the blood is
A LARGE HAND plants itself on her shoulder.

LOOMS jumps, whirls around to find herself face to face with
What are you doing here? This is a
crime scene.
I'm a neighbor. I heard a struggle
last night and I...
He isn't buying it.
Out. Before I arrest you for
Reluctant but still shaking, LOOMS leaves the room, exiting
through the front door.

The COP watches suspiciously over his shoulder as she


LOOMS walks across the front lawn quickly, head down.

A couple of COPS give her curious looks; she ignores them.
LOOMS opens her car door, gets in with a last, fleeting
glance at the COPS.
She sits down, closes the door.

She stares out the window at the house thoughtfully for a

Her cell phone rings. She answers.
                       MORGAN (O.S.)
      (over the phone)
What the hell, Looms?! I had an
assignment for you and you just
hung up on...
She cuts him off.
I found a story, Morgan. A big
      (She starts up her
I'll be there as fast as I can. I
have some digging to do.
She drives away.
                                         CUT TO:
HADRIAN preps for his autopsy on the VICTIM with all the
enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows.

He pulls on a face mask, snaps his gloves irritably.


      (into a recorder)
Autopsy. September 7, 2012. 8:03
      (with particular
Doctor performing autopsy is
intern Hadrian Gray.
HADRIAN rolls the VICTIM onto his back, the head lolling
onto its side to face away from him.
Subject of autopsy is an adult
male, estimated between 45 and 55
years of age.
He sniffs the air.
      (with disgust)
Estimated time of death, hard to
say on a cursory examination. He
looks to be dead less than a day.
He smells like he's been dead for
a week.
He grimaces.
Cause of death, also unknown. The
victim has a fair bit of skin
discoloration, but it's hard to
say whether that is decay or the
result of contusions prior to
death. A pack of cigarettes on the
victim's person when found suggest
that he is a regular smoker, which
indicates that special care should
be taken to examine for heart or
lung problems.
Something on the VICTIM'S body catches his eye. HADRIAN
pulls the light closer to the VICTIM.
Note: the victim has a superficial
wound on the lower right arm,
which appears to be...


He does a double take. We see the VICTIM'S wound: a very
deep, but obviously human BITE MARK--scabbed over and
What the hell?
Out of HADRIAN'S line of sight: the VICTIM'S eyes snap
open--bloodshot and yellow, pupils dilated to extremity.
HADRIAN, prodding further at the VICTIM'S bite wound with a
surgical tool, finds that the VICTIM'S arm hair is coming
out in small patches and is caught on the tip of his
In a stroke of inspiration, he moves to examine the VICTIM'S
HADRIAN jumps back, gasps in surprise.
The VICTIM bursts into action, getting to its feet in jerky
HADRIAN lets out a noise of bewilderment and shock.
The VICTIM hears the noise, turns towards HADRIAN.
He freezes in terror.
The VICTIM moves towards HADRIAN, a predator fixated on its
prey, moving slowly but with single-minded ferocity.
Spurred by the VICTIM'S action, HADRIAN snaps out of his
paralysis. He rummages desperately for something to defend
himself with.
A scalpel slips from his grasp. It falls to the floor,
dragging a tray full of tools with it.
The VICTIM keeps approaching.
HADRIAN'S eyes dart towards the fallen tools.

He strikes for the tools as the VICTIM makes a clumsy pass
at him.

HADRIAN is flat on the ground, scrabbling for tools.

The VICTIM, unbalanced by its pass at HADRIAN, sprawls
against the counter-top, but rebounds efficiently.


HADRIAN'S sweaty fingers slip over the edge of a large
scalpel, find the edge of the tray.

The VICTIM prepares to strike at HADRIAN again.

The VICTIM dives...

HADRIAN swings...

The metal tray meets the VICTIM'S skull head-on with a
sickening noise of shattering bone, ripping flesh, and
twisting metal.

HADRIAN swings the tray again for good measure: another
crushing blow to the VICTIM'S head.

HADRIAN, panting and holding the dented tray aloft, stares
down at the VICTIM.

It is dead.

HADRIAN prods the VICTIM with his foot, to make sure it is
really dead this time: it is.

Relieved, HADRIAN crashes from his adrenaline rush.

He gets to his feet, panting and sweaty. He grips the edge
of the counter for support, staring down at the VICTIM in
DR WARDEN sits at his desk amid stacks of papers and manila
folders. He is immersed in one of the folders when he hears
a knock at the door. He looks up.
Come in!
HADRIAN enters, looking nervous.
Ah. Hadrian. I've been expecting
HADRIAN steps forward, at attention.

WARDEN smiles slightly.


Please, have a seat.
HADRIAN sits down tentatively on the edge of the seat
opposite DR WARDEN.
WARDEN puts on his reading glasses, leans back as he
continues reading the folder.
Well, Mr. Grey, I have seen a lot
of strange reports in my life, but
      (He waves the
       folder in the
This takes the cake.
He puts it down on his desk and laces his fingers together.
He leans forward and observes HADRIAN over his glasses.
Care to offer an explanation?
HADRIAN struggles for words, he opens and closes his mouth
several times, letting out a few strangled noises but no
      (He grimaces.)
I don't have one, sir.
None whatsoever?
HADRIAN starts to speak, but thinks better of it.
No sir.
Hm. Normally I would interpret
that to mean that you wish to
stand by your original assessment
of John Doe 26...
He gives HADRIAN a significant look, shows HADRIAN the
folder, revealing, among other forms, a piece of paper with
the writing getting messier as the page goes on.


      (barely disguising
       his amusement)
"Cause of death: blunt trauma to
head from cookie sheet."
HADRIAN doesn't reply. WARDEN closes the folder, surveys
Receiving no response, WARDEN sighs and takes off his
glasses, rubbing his eyes. He sets the glasses down on the
desk, and steeples his fingers.
Hadrian...the voice recorder you
borrowed was covered in blood. Now
unless I am sorely mistaken, it
was not issued to you in that
condition. What do you have to say
for yourself before I go jumping
to conclusions?
HADRIAN sighs, slumps, head in his hands.
This is going to sound crazy.
People thought Edward Jenner was
HADRIAN meets WARDEN'S gaze, and sees that his mentor is not
angry, merely concerned and somewhat curious.
He steels himself, and speaks, somewhat quickly.
It attacked me.
DR. WARDEN gives HADRIAN a slightly stunned look...with a
note of fear in his eyes.
It what?
As HADRIAN explains, WARDEN'S face becomes serious.
I know, it sounds crazy but...I
began the autopsy according to
procedure. Almost immediately I
started noticing that something
was very...very wrong with the


                       HADRIAN (cont'd)
WARDEN stands up abruptly, clasping his hands behind his
What specifically?
HADRIAN is surprised by the intensity in his mentor's voice.
WARDEN begins pacing.
I couldn't figure out how long he
had been dead. The way he looked
and the way he smelled...they
didn't match up.
What else?
HADRIAN is baffled. He was expecting to be fired or yelled
at, not taken seriously.
His skin looked strange. It looked
like he was covered in bruises,
all different shades. And the hair
on his arm came out without
tugging. I just disturbed it a
little when I looked at the bite
and it--
The bite?! You didn't say anything
about a bite in the autopsy
I'm sorry, sir. I was a little
preoccupied by the fact that a
dead man got up and attacked me.
He shudders.
WARDEN resumes pacing, more intently this time.
Those eyes...I don't know if I'll
ever forget them. I've never seen
anything like it, except for
pictures of Ebola victims...but
they were angry. Like he was a


                       HADRIAN (cont'd)
predator and I was his prey.
He looks up at WARDEN tentatively.
What happened to that man, sir?
What does this mean?
WARDEN looks at HADRIAN, seemingly snapping out of a
reverie, remembering that someone else was in the room.
It means, Hadrian, that somebody
else will be looking into this
case. The autopsy is out of your
You believe me?
It would seem, Hadrian, that you
are not the first doctor this week
to come up with, shall we say,
peculiar findings.
HADRIAN'S face darkens in a stroke of inspiration.
The murders!
WARDEN doesn't reply, but his face says it all.
Sir, I can't just drop this case.
It's out of my hands, Hadrian. The
fact that you received that
particular autopsy was...a fluke.
You were not supposed to be
wrapped up in this investigation.
Plan or not, I'm involved in this,
sir. I want to find out what
happened to that man.
WARDEN sighs.


Hadrian, if it were up to me, I
would wholeheartedly permit you to
assist me. But I'm afraid I cannot
have any help on this one. Even
Gordon is being left behind.
What do you mean left behind?
You're not leaving the hospital,
are you?
Only temporarily. The bodies are
being transported to a
better-equipped quarantine
facility in Washington.
Quarantine. It's contagious then?
What happened to this man?
DR WARDEN gives HADRIAN a severe look.
I think it would be best for
everyone involved if you forget
what happened to you last night,
Mr. Grey.
      (After a beat.)
You're excused.
HADRIAN reluctantly starts to leave.
Oh, and, Hadrian...
HADRIAN turns to look at DR WARDEN glumly, expecting another
WARDEN puts on his reading glasses, looks at HADRIAN over
the tops of them.
Did you hear about that new
medical facility they're creating
outside of Christmas Village in
Washington? In the middle of
nowhere. Can you imagine?


Yes. Yes, I can. Thank you, sir.
He leaves quickly.
LOOMS is intent on the road ahead of her car, squinting to
see into the distance beyond trees and...trees.
MORGAN flops his head against the window.
You know, women are always
kvetching about men and
directions, but I think you're the
worst offender I have ever met.
She glares at him.
I have directions.
Off the internet.
It came with a map.
Look, how do you even know this
thing is real? I mean, who would
build a hospital in the middle of
Washington. We crossed the border
half an hour ago. And it's not a
hospital. It's a quarantined
medical facility. Like a storage
unit for danger.
Remind me again how you came
across this U-Haul of death.
I tailed one of the cop cars away
from the crime scene, figuring
they'd head to St. Lucy's to find
out more about the victims. But
they didn't. They went to the
police station for a few minutes


                       LOOMS (cont'd)
with some paperwork. They came
back out with the papers, they
left. Obviously, I wasn't going to
tail them any sort of long
distance without getting caught,
not to mention without dragging
you along. So I went into the
station, said I had witnessed a
crime that I wanted to report.
Secretary told me to sit in the
waiting room while she took care
of someone else. While she was
out, I peeked at the papers she
had on her desk. Among other
things, they contained photocopies
of the identification cards of the
cops I tailed. Stapled to those
photocopies were official papers
to allow entry to a top secret
facility. I memorized the address
and left before the secretary came
MORGAN is astonished.
A top secret facility?
Yeah, that's what the stamp said.
Looms, do you realize what that
She looks blank.
What else has the government built
that's top secret?
She groans, rolls her eyes.
Morgan, not every secret
government facility has aliens.
So you acknowledge that there are
aliens in Area 51?


Whatever. The only reason I care
about the top secret part is
logistics. How the hell are we
going to get into this place?
Got any military-grade weapons?
LOOMS gives him a look. He turns serious.
Well, I will say this: no matter
what we do, it's going to end up
being illegal.
We should try to come up with the
most discreet, least criminal
method possible. I've almost
gotten arrested once this week,
I'd rather not have a repeat
performance. Oh, and Morgan?
He looks at her.
If there is a single illegal
substance on your person if slash
when we get arrested, I will kick
your ass.
He grins.
The CAR zooms along through the empty road.

The camera pans upwards and we see in the distance a
building surrounded by barbed wire and bright lights with a
toll-booth entrance.
LOOMS crawls up a small hill in the trees around the
FACILITY, military-style. She peers through a small pair of
binoculars hanging around her neck towards the compound.
Upon inspection through LOOMS' binoculars, the compound is
revealed to be very secure: two layers of barbed wire fence,
a toll booth to get in the front entrance, a couple of


towers on the perimeter complete with armed guards and
LOOMS frowns as she continues to inspect her target.
A twig snaps loudly behind her. She jumps a foot in the air
and whirls around, pointing a small pocket knife at her
It's JACK MORGAN, 24, a young man with longish blond hair
and a short beard. He looks surprised, puts his hands up in
a gesture of surrender.
      (quietly annoyed)
Morgan! Could you please try to be
Excuse me, Sergeant. I'm a little
out of practice at being a ninja.
LOOMS rolls her eyes, resumes checking out the compound.
What are we looking at?
Conspiracy. Government cover-up.
The usual suspects.
Looms, I'm touched. You've finally
come to the Dark Side!
I still don't 'want to believe,'
you moron! I don't think this has
anything to do with aliens.
MORGAN opens his mouth.
      (cutting him off)


What about Pearl Harbor?
She rolls her eyes again, ignores him. She turns a knob to
look closer at something about the facility.
A beat, then LOOMS exhales sharply, not pleased with what
she sees.
It's not looking good. There's two
towers on this side. Probably not
much better around the other end,
plus five bucks says the fence is
She shakes her head, looks again through the binoculars
      (to herself)
Damn, I wish I knew what they were
keeping in there.
MORGAN'S eyes light up with mischief.
One way to find out.
He stands up and runs to the top of the hill, flapping his

LOOMS panics.
Morgan! Morgan, what the hell do
you think you're doing?!
MORGAN ignores her, flaps his arms even more broadly, starts
Hey! G-men! Yoohoo!
Exasperated, LOOMS frantically tries to force MORGAN to duck
down the hill with her.


MORGAN breaks free of her, keeps waving his arms and
grinning like an idiot.
Two of the spotlights pinpoint LOOMS and MORGAN'S position.
LOOMS stops struggling with MORGAN, puts her hands up in
surrender. MORGAN keeps waving.
We hear shouting from the compound, a military truck starts
driving towards the duo with armed troops hanging out the
back and passenger seat.
LOOMS gives MORGAN her best death glare.
Way to go, 3PO.
The TRUCK arrives at the bottom of their hill, quickly
followed by a second TRUCK. Armed troops pour out of both
vehicles, filing into order and aiming their weapons at
A MAN in OFFICER'S UNIFORM gets out of the second truck,
approaches the duo. He is flanked by two of the SOLDIERS.
MORGAN stops waving, but his grin doesn't fade as he puts
his hands over his head.
The SOLDIERS and OFFICER come to a stop in front of LOOMS
and MORGAN, the OFFICER looking at them severely.
MORGAN'S smile widens.
      (in a weird voice)
Take me to your leader.
LOOMS "ughs" quietly, rolling her eyes at the sky.
The OFFICER signals discreetly to the two SOLDIERS.

They step forward, one to LOOMS, one to MORGAN. They
retrieve rags from their pockets and move as if to smother
the pair.
Oh, brother.
We see her eyes covered by the rag, her field of vision
quickly warping and fading to black.


When LOOMS comes to, she finds herself in a strange room:
bare, cold cement in an uneven gray color.
She smacks her mouth quietly as though trying to get a bad
taste out, grimaces.

She tries to sit up slowly, but realizes that her hands are
bound with plastic cuffs.
Angered, she starts to wake up from her drug-induced haze.
She stands up, shaky.
      (shouting groggily)
Hey! Hey, soldier guys! You can't
keep me cooped up in here! I'm a
citizen of the United States and I
have rights! I want my lawyer!
                       HADRIAN (O.S.)
They can't hear you.
LOOMS turns around, sees a visibly exhausted stranger
(HADRIAN) slouched against one of the walls. He has a small
cut on his lip that wasn't there in his previous scenes.
He grimaces, groans slightly as he sits up straighter.
Well, maybe they can. You've got
some pretty obnoxious vocal cords.
But they're not going to listen.
Where's Morgan?
Your friend?
      (He shrugs.)
He came to a while ago. They took
him out, probably asking him the
same stupid questions they asked
He sniffs quietly, probably the result of a seeping


My name's Hadrian, by the way.
What's yours?
LOOMS glares at the door, decides to sit down, apparently
realizing this could take a while.
Good one.
LOOMS gives him a strange look. He is quick to explain.
That's a creative fake name.
Usually girls tell me they're
named Jane Doe or Ann Onimus or
something like that.
You're a fine one to make fun of
my name, Hadrian. What, your
parents named you after a wall?
Close. The emperor who built it.
He doesn't seem the least bit flustered by LOOMS' biting
tone--probably because girls always talk to him like that.
He seems bizarrely good-natured despite being in a cement
cell with a rude girl and several recent injuries. But
that's just HADRIAN: always mild-mannered.
Seriously, though, cool name. What
does it mean?
      (ignoring him)
I need to get out of here before
they decide to 'dispose of' me and
      (to HADRIAN)
What're the escape routes like?
Which ones have you tried?
He seems somewhat surprised and flustered by this question.


W-what do you mean, escape routes?
Vents, tunnels, lazy guards,
hidden doors. Ways to get out of
      (catching on)
Hold on, there, I'm not trying to
escape. I'm here on legitimate
LOOMS eyes the cut on his lip skeptically.
"Legitimate business?"
HADRIAN sighs, flusters some more.
Okay, semi-legitimate. But this is
all just a mix-up. Once Dr. Warden
shows up, I'll be out of here in
no time.
LOOMS, lost in thought, only heard one part of that
Dr. Warden? You've got an inside
HADRIAN is visibly taken aback by her word choice and
Um, yeah, h-he's my supervisor at
St. Lucy's. You're making it sound
like we're in a gulag or
Did you see the outside of this
place? It's like San Quentin on
crack. You're the insider, if this
isn't a prison camp, what the hell
are they doing in this place?
HADRIAN hesitates.


I don't know if I should tell you.
That sets off LOOMS' journalist alarm bells.
Why, is there something to hide
here? Some sort of government
operation? You mentioned a Dr.
Warden. Is there some sort of
medical experimentation going on
Yes...no....I don't know!
He snaps into panic-HADRIAN mode.
I was just minding my own business
doing an autopsy, a-and this guy
gets up and a-attacks me, and then
I'm being told--
Slow down, let me get a...
She reaches for her bag instinctively, realizes where she
Dammit! They even confiscated my
pen! How the hell am I supposed to
take notes without--
The door opens.
A GUARD in military garb appears. LOOMS and HADRIAN have to
squint to see him against the light spilling in from the

The GUARD steps aside as another SOLDIER enters the
cell...pulling a weary MORGAN by the arm.

The SOLDIER pushes MORGAN off, moves to LOOMS and grabs her
upper arm.
Oy! Get your paws off me!
The SOLDIER ignores her, keeps pulling her along. The GUARD
steps aside again, makes to close the door.


LOOMS fights the SOLDIER, calling over her shoulder.
Morgan! What's going on?
The SOLDIER reorients LOOMS so she faces forward. The GUARD
slams the door behind them before LOOMS can get another word
out, or hear a reply from MORGAN.
LOOMS is taken to another, larger cement room, cold and
sparsely furnished with a bare light-bulb hanging from the
ceiling, a straight-backed wooden chair, and a wooden table.
The SOLDIER forces LOOMS to sit down in the chair. He and a
second SOLDIER promptly retrieve a coil of twine from their
belts and tie LOOMS' hands and back to the chair.

She struggles, but resistance is futile.
As the SECOND SOLDIER leans over LOOMS to tighten a knot,
LOOMS notices an infected-looking bite mark on the woman's
That's one hell of a hickey.
The SECOND SOLDIER elbows LOOMS in the stomach as she
straightens up and follows the FIRST SOLDIER from the room,
giving LOOMS a parting glare as she exits.
LOOMS winces from the blow, but quickly recovers as the
doors close behind the two SOLDIERS and a female military
OFFICER steps into the light shining in LOOMS' face.
We see the OFFICER'S face harshly lit from above as she
sneers down at LOOMS: she is not ugly, her face is cruel and
hard with deep frown lines and a long, straight nose.
LOOMS fakes a smile at the OFFICER belligerently.
I gotta say, I love what you guys
have done with the place. Your
interior designer's taste is
The OFFICER is having none of it.


Your friend had quite the sense of
humor too. He is your friend,
isn't he? He didn't strike me as
being your type.
Him? Nah, he's not a friend. Just
some crazy homeless guy I picked
up at the bus stop.
The OFFICER returns LOOMS' falsely pleasant smile.

LOOMS doesn't see it coming when the OFFICER pulls her arm
back and smacks her.
LOOMS blinks, but doesn't respond besides a slight grimace.
You know, normally I would
complain about that sort of thing,
but you guys have violated so many
of my civil rights tonight that
I'm not going to push this one.
The OFFICER'S face has returned to coldness once again as
she snaps her fingers sharply. The door opens with a
clatter, and one of the SOLDIERS comes in carrying a second
chair. The SOLDIER sets the chair down and leaves.

The door closes with a loud, ominous clatter.

The OFFICER sits down in the chair slowly and steeples her
fingers on the table.

LOOMS, uncooperative as always, exaggeratedly puts her
Doc-Marten-ed feet up onto the table.
What's your name?
Is there a last name with that?
Wright. Like the airplane guys.
You know...


LOOMS puts her feet down, makes airplane "wings" with her
elbows. She does a plane impression for a moment, complete
with sound effects and moving side to side to indicate

The OFFICER forces a smile.
"Miranda Wright?"
      (After a beat.)
That's very interesting. Your,
ahem, friend told me you went
She checks a FOLDER with notes in it.
      (defining each
"Shirley Jo King."
LOOMS tries not to laugh.
The OFFICER stares LOOMS down.
You think this is funny?
LOOMS shrugs.
What you are laughing at is a
matter of national and potentially
international security.
LOOMS sobers a little bit.
Oh, is that all? See, I though we
were laughing about the
multi-million dollar lawsuit I
could pull over on you guys the
second I'm out of here if I want
The OFFICER looks dead serious, doesn't respond to LOOMS'
LOOMS catches on.
Assuming, of course, that I do get
out of here.


That's up in the air at the
moment. Pending your cooperation
with this investigation.
LOOMS considers, then turns serious, slouches in her seat.
Cards on the table, then. What do
you want to know?
Two times two is four. Two times
Everything to do with this
investigation. Starting with your
legal name.
A pause. LOOMS relents on this one.
Looms. Alice Looms.
The OFFICER stands up, enters real interrogation mode now
that LOOMS has gotten some of the sarcasm out of her system.
Good girl. Now what information do
you have that would be useful to
my investigation?
LOOMS' journalistic interest has been piqued.
I don't know. That depends on what
you're investigating.
What do you know about the recent
outbreak in Sunnydale, California?
The "outbreak." Score one for reverse psychology.

LOOMS pretends to strain her memory, searching for
information that she knows nothing about.


I know where it happened, but your
police buddies already seem to
have figured that out.
Anything that "my police buddies"
wouldn't have noticed?
LOOMS feigns distress at being unable to 'remember'
I might have spotted a couple of
symptoms within the local
population, but I'm not sure.
Discoloration? Acute hair loss?
Pupil dilation? Bite marks?
Something clicks in LOOMS' mind in a very real way. Her
front of nonchalance is shaken as she figures something out.
Bite marks!
The OFFICER seems intrigued by LOOMS' sudden change in
      (more intensely)
You witnessed a civilian besides
the previously mentioned victims
with a bite wound?
LOOMS realizes she is playing one of the only cards she has.
She pretends to remember something.
Yes, but it was a dog's bite. It
wasn't human. It wasn't...linked
to this infection.
I'm afraid that's all I know.
The OFFICER is visibly disappointed by this. She has learned
nothing new from this interview.


Can I go back to the cell now?
Whatever you knocked me out with
is giving me a headache.
The OFFICER sighs irritably, but snaps her fingers for the
SOLDIERS to come and take LOOMS away.

The door opens. The same SOLDIERS as before enter and untie
LOOMS from her chair.

LOOMS stares transfixed at the bite mark on the SECOND

The SECOND SHOULDER gives LOOMS an annoyed look, jerks her
upward by the arm, and drags her from the room with the
assistance of the first SOLDIER.
The OFFICER stares after LOOMS' retreating figure, deep in
The door OPENS.

HADRIAN looks up at the noise, rising from a crouched
position to greet LOOMS.
The SOLDIERS push LOOMS in roughly. She stumbles, falls to
her knees.
HADRIAN makes to help her up as the door SLAMS behind her.
You okay?
LOOMS brushes him off. She has bigger things on her mind.
Peachy. Now you really need to
tell me what the deal is with this
She crouches down beside MORGAN, taking over for HADRIAN in
keeping an eye on his unconscious body.
I...I already told you. It's
classified. You're not allowed to


Really? Because they seem to be
laboring under the impression that
me and Morgan know something, and
they're going to beat the crap out
of us until we spill the beans. So
why don't you give us some beans
to spill?
HADRIAN hesitates, but he can't argue with her logic.
Keep in mind, this is pretty new
to me as well. I probably don't
know much more than you.
Cut to the chase, Hadrian. There's
an outbreak of some sort. What's
the disease?
That's what I'm trying to tell
you. I don't know for sure. This
is all speculation. A hypothesis.
LOOMS makes a face, gestures for him to go into more detail.
He sighs.
Two nights ago, I performed an
autopsy on an unidentified victim.
A man, probably on the upper end
of middle age. When I began the
operation, I didn't think much of
the bite mark. I assumed he was
just a run of the mill homeless
man. They get brought in all the
      (His eyes glaze
       over grimly.)
And then...he attacked me.
"He" attacked you? You mean the
homeless man?
HADRIAN'S lips form a thin line, he nods slightly.
I thought you said he was dead?


He was. They admitted him to the
morgue upon arrival at the
hospital. He looked like he'd been
dead for at least a day, probably
more from the smell of him. But
when I went in to check his
pupils, he got up and attacked me.
LOOMS is stunned. She wasn't expecting this.
Jesus. You think the bite mark was
how he got the disease?
It would certainly be a valid
LOOMS is deep in thought.
Would it be jumping to
assume that someone who had a bite
mark like the one you described
would also display the same
Despite her stumblings on some of the more science-related
terms, HADRIAN is impressed.
You mean, coming back from the
dead and attacking whoever
approaches? Perhaps. I would need
to see more cases before I felt
comfortable classifying this as an
actual disease rather than a
series of flukes.
Probably smart. Wait, what do you
mean 'a series of flukes?' How
many autopsies did you do?
I did one. Dr. Warden, my mentor--
Your 'inside man?'


Exactly. He did three other
autopsies on a group of murder
victims in the same area of the
city where my Patient Zero was
found. All of them displayed the
same symptoms, albeit at different
Symptoms like discoloration, acute
hair loss, pupil dilation, and
bite marks?
HADRIAN is astonished.
Yes, that's...that's exactly what
I said on my report. How did you
know that?
      (ignoring his
We have to get out of here. Now.
Because one of our lovely guards
has hours, maybe minutes, before
she becomes the next victim.
He opens his mouth dumbly, closes it, struggling for words
as he considers the ramifications of what LOOMS has said.
      (rattling off the
The woman. Brunette, dark brown
eyes, about the same height as me,
late-twenties. She had a bite mark
on her neck. It looked like it was
HADRIAN shakes his head.


This is...this is...
Terrible! If what you're saying is
true, she's going to succumb to
this disease and there's nothing
we can do about it! We don't even
know what it is!
I thought you wanted more cases to
Yes, but lab trials, rats. Not
He leans against the wall, devastated.
LOOMS sighs.
We'll have time to deal with your
misplaced guilt later. What we
need to do right now is figure out
a way to prevent the disease from
You mean like a more localized
That sounds doable, given that
this is a quarantine facility.
Okay. What do we need to do?
First? We wake up Morgan.
She crouches down over MORGAN again, shakes his shoulder
Morgan! Jack, it's me! Wake up!
He groans, scrunches his face.


Morgan, wake up. C'mon, buddy, we
got work to do. Morgan!
She shakes him a little more firmly. He winces, swats his
hands around blindly.
I don't want to go to school.
No one's taking you to school, you
dork, you dropped out years ago.
Come on, we've got a government
conspiracy to unravel.
That gets his attention. He wakes up abruptly.
Eh? What?
LOOMS smiles wanly.
Atta boy.
She pats his cheek condescendingly, stands up.

MORGAN sits up, rubs his eyes blearily.
What's going on?
      (to HADRIAN)
You're the one with the inside
know-how. How are we going to get
out of this place?
Get out?
Yes, 'get out.' I thought it
sounded marginally less juvenile
than 'blow this popsicle stand.'
HADRIAN is visibly flustered by LOOMS' blunt sarcasm.


      (blushing slightly)
No, I mean, you never said
anything about escaping.
What, you thought we were just
going to ask the guards real
nicely and they'd let us do
whatever needs to be done?
HADRIAN opens his mouth, realizes that it would be a bad
idea to say "yes," and decides to just smile awkwardly.
LOOMS sighs, rolls her eyes.
Oh, brother.
      (to MORGAN)
Jack, what's our status?
MORGAN paces the room, scoping out the security.
Seems pretty airtight. I don't see
any cameras or electric barriers
stopping us, but we're in a cement
room and the door is locked. Plus,
we're in handcuffs.
I can fix that.
She reaches to her hair--or tries to. With her hands cuffed,
she can't reach all the way around to get to the back of her
She winces in pain, drops her hands quickly.
Ah! I can't reach it. Hadrian,
help me get this stupid bobby pin
out of my hair.
She turns around, tilts her head to allow better access to
the nape of her neck under her ponytail.
HADRIAN cautiously steps up behind her, peers at her hair to
see it. He reaches out gingerly, hesitates.
Under the elastic. A little off to
one side.


I see it. I just don't know if I
can get it out without ruining
your hair.
She shoots him a disparaging look.
Oh, well, that would be
problematic if this were a BEAUTY
PAGEANT. Just take the stinkin'
elastic out, will you?
HADRIAN jerks his hand out, pulls the bobby pin out, making
the whole ponytail messy. Going into surgery mode, he works
the rubber band out of LOOMS' hair.
He hands rubber band and bobby pin to LOOMS.
      (in an accent)
You look fabulous, darling.
Ha ha.
She begins bending the bobby pin into a more
lock-pick-worthy shape. Satisfied, she starts to poke around
at the lock on her handcuffs.
She finds the inner workings.
She frees her left hand, gets to work on the right one.
HADRIAN looks uncomfortable.
Whatever you're doing, it looks
very illegal.
Yeah, but what are they going to
do? Press charges? Good luck. The
amount of material I have, I could
live comfortably for the rest of
my life on reparation money if I
wanted to.
She gets her other hand free.


      (to MORGAN)
Your turn.
He holds his hands out. LOOMS begins working at his
How's the interior of the
compound? I was doped up when they
took me through the hallway.
Security's minimal, at least in
this part of the building. Around
the actual points of entry,
though, it's anybody's guess.
She gets MORGAN loose. He rubs his wrists.
She turns to HADRIAN. He puts his hands up in the closest
thing to a "surrender" gesture he can manage with cuffs.
Hold the phone, I never said I was
in on this!
Do you want to prevent a pandemic
apocalypse or not?
A beat.
He extends his hands feebly.
LOOMS takes them firmly, starts working at the locks.
HADRIAN stares down at his feet, but his eyes dart up to
LOOMS' face every so often. He seems to be surreptitiously
studying her intensity.
She doesn't notice his glances. She looks up when she's
The handcuffs clatter to the ground.
HADRIAN rubs his wrists, although whether that is from the
chafing of the handcuffs or the fact that LOOMS' fingers
brushed his knuckles a few times is unclear.


Great. What's the rest of your
LOOMS smiles widely.
Her face suddenly turns melodramatically upset.
      (at the top of her
HADRIAN clamps his hands over his ears.
Ah! What the hell--
Play along.
MORGAN closes his eyes, breathes deeply, stretches his neck,
makes an actor "focus" gesture with one hand.
His eyes snap open. His face contorts.
MORGAN and LOOMS are having way to much fun with this.
HADRIAN just looks baffled.
LOOMS drops "character," glares at him.
He gets the message, makes a feeble attempt at his own
He flops his arms around weakly.
LOOMS gives him a look.


She rolls her eyes.
Give the man an Oscar. Could you
at least try to play along?
Pardon me for being a little
hesitant to participate in a
Good! That's more like it! Try to
channel a little more of that
anger, and react when I pretend to
punch you.
LOOMS pulls her arm back and PUNCHES HADRIAN.
HADRIAN gasps, staggers back in pain.
Oh, come on, I TOLD you that was
HADRIAN gasps again, clutching his nose.
      (voice cracking)
Jeezum Crow, where did you learn
Sh! They're coming.
She knocks him over, pretends to punch him as if in a
serious fistfight just as the door opens and two of the
SOLDIERS come in to break up the fight.
Help! He's gone psycho!
LOOMS winks at HADRIAN, starts yelling as one of the
SOLDIERS grabs her arms and picks her up from behind.
Get your paws off me!
      (to HADRIAN)


Now--oh, for Christ's sake.
MORGAN jumps into action. He breaks loose from the SOLDIER
holding him. PUNCHES him in the nose.
The SOLDIER holding LOOMS turns to look.
LOOMS seizes the moment--she kicks back into the SOLDIER'S
The SOLDIER doubles over. LOOMS pushes him aside, whacking
him on the head for good measure.
She glances around the room to check out the damage.
Her SOLDIER is down for the count.
MORGAN has taken out two SOLDIERS.
The FOURTH SOLDIER holds HADRIAN in headlock.
Oh, for cryin' out loud.
MORGAN grabs the SOLDIERS arms, pries them apart.
HADRIAN falls to the floor with a gasp.
LOOMS pulls her arm back and PUNCHES the FOURTH SOLDIER
square in the stomach.
The SOLDIER curls in on himself in pain, falls to his knees.
MORGAN fishes in the SECOND SOLDIER'S pockets. He finds what
he's looking for: a rag.
He tosses it to LOOMS.
You do the honors.
LOOMS smiles crookedly.
      (to the SOLDIER)
Apologies, et cetera.
She covers the SOLDIER'S nose and mouth with the rag.


He struggles for a minute...his eyes unfocus...
He goes limp, falls onto his face and hands.
What did you do to him?
No idea. It worked on us earlier,
though. Morgan, what should we do
with the evidence?
Got a meatgrinder?
HADRIAN gives him a horrified look.
Joking. It was a joke.
      (to LOOMS)
I don't think it matters. They'll
know it was us regardless.
We'll leave them here, then. Let's
No idea. I'm improvising.
She stoops over one of the fallen soldiers, retrieves a
pistol from his belt.
She gets a second gun from another soldier, offers it to
No. Absolutely not. Guns are where
I draw the line.
Suit yourself.
She tosses it to MORGAN. He catches it and puts it away with
a RoboCop twirl.


Relax. I turned the safety on. For
Morgan's gun, at least.
She heads for the door, leaving a stunned and terrified
HADRIAN in her wake.
LOOMS peers out the doorway, looks up and down the hall.
MORGAN comes up behind her, looks over her head to double
check that their path is clear.
He gives her a look.
She NODS. All clear.
They walk quickly but quietly out the door, guns held ready
in SWAT team fashion.
LOOMS eyes their options.
She makes eye contact with MORGAN and gestures: RIGHT.
He nods, begins walking in the appropriate direction.
LOOMS follows shortly after.
Realizes HADRIAN is missing.
      (in a low voice)
Hold up...
MORGAN stops, raises his gun, prepared to fire.
LOOMS shakes her head, backs up to look inside the room they
just left.
      (in a low voice)
She squints into the room, not seeing him.
      (a hiss)


She turns. MORGAN points frantically to the other end of the
LOOMS turns just in time to see HADRIAN rounding the
corner...going the opposite direction of what she indicated.
She sighs, exasperated, lowers her gun.
She NODS at MORGAN, they proceed after HADRIAN, guns in the
ready position.
LOOMS holds her gun a little higher as she rounds the
HADRIAN is nowhere in sight.
MORGAN is right behind her.
      (in a low voice)
Well, you two've got one thing in
common, at least. Neither of you
take directions.
LOOMS rolls her eyes.
We'll have plenty of time to play
matchmaker later. Right now we
have to figure out where--
Looking for someone?
MORGAN and LOOMS spin around sharply, guns held aloft.
The OFFICER and two male SOLDIERS are standing down a third
hall that MORGAN and LOOMS had overlooked--holding HADRIAN
captive and all bearing sizable firearms.
LOOMS grimaces, lowers her gun. MORGAN calmly follows suit.
The OFFICER holds her gun within easy range of HADRIAN'S
Drop your weapons.


I think that might damage them,
officer. They're rather fragile.
Put them down. On the ground, now.
I'm afraid I can't do that.
Really? That's interesting,
because we seem to be pointing
guns at your head.
It may have escaped your notice,
but so are we.
I don't have time for this.
She GRABS HADRIAN roughly by the arm, pulls him towards her,
lifts her gun to his temple.
Put down your weapons.
What happened to your other
bodyguard? The woman.
She is on a break. I fail to see
what concern it is to you.
Really? Let me guess: she wasn't
feeling too good. Said she wanted
to lie down for a bit.
The OFFICER doesn't reply. Her eyes tell the whole story.
You're wasting your time with us.
She's the one you should be
I don't know what you're talking


      (in a steady voice)
You're lying. You know exactly
what I'm talking about. You have
it too.
The two SOLDIERS look at the OFFICER in unison, equally
confused and scared--paying no attention to LOOMS or MORGAN.
MORGAN aims high and fires two shots into the light fixture
on the ceiling.
He hits the light bulb. SPARKS FLY in all directions.
The SOLDIERS and OFFICER flinch and cover their faces.
LOOMS turns around, makes a run for it.
MORGAN is right on her tail, firing random, intentionally
off-target shots over his shoulder.
As the SOLDIERS and OFFICER take cover from the fresh
bullets, HADRIAN breaks free and sprints across the hall
intersection after LOOMS and MORGAN.
LOOMS at the head of the pack turns a corner. The others
      (to SOLDIERS)
Stop them. Capture them. I want to
see them alive.
The SOLDIERS hurry after the rogue trio.
We see the OFFICER pull a palm-sized pistol from her
We see a DOOR open on one side of the interrogation room.
LOOMS bursts through it, racing across the room. Her
footsteps echo off the cement walls.
MORGAN pushes through right after her.
The door starts to close...until HADRIAN enters, panicked.


He looks around, frantic. Sees LOOMS and MORGAN already
exiting across the room through another door.
He sprints to catch up with them.
HADRIAN finally reaches LOOMS and MORGAN, keeps pace with
them as they make their way through the labyrinthine halls.
How...how did you know that?
GUNSHOTS ring out behind the trio.
They duck.
They round a corner.
LOOMS pauses, fires off two shots around the corner, keeps
      (to HADRIAN)
How did you know that she was
I don't.
MORGAN barrels through another door.
HADRIAN and LOOMS follow in close pursuit.
A bullet glances the door as it closes behind them.
HADRIAN stops, gasping for air as he leans against the
doorway to rest.


You were bluffing?!
LOOMS and MORGAN push waiting area CHAIRS against the door.
She runs off, leaving a bewildered HADRIAN and unimpressed
      (to HADRIAN)
Word to the wise, don't ever play
poker with her.
He follows LOOMS.
HADRIAN waits a little longer, trying to catch his breath.
A bullet HITS the door he is leaning against, creates a dent
right next to his head.
He yelps, sprints after LOOMS and MORGAN.
HADRIAN staggers to a stop in the middle of a four-way hall
He looks around, trying to find LOOMS or MORGAN.
A DOOR CREAKS down one of the hallways.
He sighs, relieved.
Thank God.
He runs towards the source of the noise, comes to a stop
outside the door in question.
He pushes the door open.
Looms, Morgan it's...
HADRIAN opens the door, finds himself face to face with the
female SOLDIER. She is a ZOMBIE.


LOOMS and MORGAN jog back through the hallways, searching
LOOMS rounds a corner.
She stops up short, about to bump into DR. WARDEN.
WARDEN opens his mouth to question LOOMS...
A distinctly male CRY for help rings through the air.
WARDEN gives them a knowing smile.
Long story?
You have no idea.
HADRIAN backs away from the ZOMBIE slowly.
Reaches for his belt for a gun...
...only to realize he doesn't have one!
He makes a little noise of terror.
The ZOMBIE looks up, sees him: prey.
She throws her head back, lets out THE MOAN, the wailing
funeral dirge of the undead.
LOOMS bursts through the door, followed closely by MORGAN.
They SPRINT across the room as quickly as they can, exiting
the opposite door before the first has fully closed itself.


HADRIAN, weaponless, pushes the ZOMBIE away with his leg
It swipes at him, keeps attacking.
HADRIAN overbalances from his attempted kick, falls down.
LOOMS looks panicked. What if she and MORGAN don't make it?
HADRIAN stares up at the ZOMBIE, prepared to meet his death.
The ZOMBIE stops mid-attack, a clean hole shot straight
through its skull.
It falls to the ground.
The OFFICER stands a few feet behind the ZOMBIE, holding a
smoking pistol.
LOOMS and MORGAN stumble through a door into the hallway,
take in the scene.
The OFFICER turns around instinctively, points her gun at
This never happened. You never saw
me, this facility does not
She turns to HADRIAN sternly, points her gun at him.
And there is no virus.
She turns back to LOOMS and MORGAN, glares at them for a
Now leave. Before I change my
She gestures with her gun towards the exit.


MORGAN, LOOMS, and HADRIAN hurry off in the direction she is
WARDEN enters the hallway through the same door LOOMS and
MORGAN took.
He sees the ZOMBIE on the ground.
He looks at the OFFICER questioningly.
Long story.
He nods knowingly.
I'm sure it is.
LOOMS paces thoughtfully. MORGAN leans back in his desk
chair dejectedly, feet up on the table.
Well, this is just great. The
biggest story of our lives, and we
have no proof. I mean, we don't
even have a blurry Roswell shot.
How are we going to turn this into
a headline? We have zilch.
Not quite. We have Hadrian.
MORGAN does not look comforted by this fact.
I'll talk to him. Maybe we can
talk to his inside man or see some
paperwork. I'll weasel some
medical jargon out of him at the
very least.
MORGAN rolls his eyes, gestures at the door.
LOOMS grimaces, gets her jacket, leaves.
MORGAN rubs his temples in her wake, sighing heavily.


It is business as usual at St. Lucy's.
HADRIAN, amongst piles of lab results and petrie dishes,
presses his eye to a microscope intently.
He doesn't look up at a knock on the door.
Come in.
The door opens. HADRIAN turns to greet the newcomer.
His eyes widen; it's LOOMS.
Your inside man let me in.
She brushes past a wordless HADRIAN without so much as an
"excuse me."
She squints at the microscope lens.
What am I looking at?
A virus of some kind, but I can't
identify it. It's like nothing
I've ever seen before.
HADRIAN clears his throat. LOOMS steps away, lets HADRIAN
take his place back.
What did you expect? This is the
same thing that made a dead
homeless man rise up and attack
That? That was nothing. That's
just the tip of the iceberg of
what this virus can do. If this
infection has gotten out into the
world...if someone, somewhere,
right now is carrying it...one
homeless man is small potatoes.
This is just the beginning.


The beginning of what?
I don't know.
He looks at LOOMS seriously. She stops joking, stoops over
to take another look at the virus.
We see it for the first time.
It is like a fearsome, mutated snowflake with spindling
fingers reaching out across the petrie dish and growing by
the second, fragments of the disease breaking off as the
fingers grow, forming new buds of the virus.


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From Nick Hanks Date 6/18/2016 ***
remember a feature length series episode of anything runs about 42 minutes actual air time at 1 minute air time per page so you're looking at roughly 42 to 50 pages in length minimum. but you came close just remember to stick to the rules. really loved the concept, didn't read well enough to hold me though, great effort

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