The Question
Eternal
Most of you got to read this in novelization format in the ezine. This is a slightly earlier version, written in feature film screenplay format. This earlier version has a little more material, some of which is no longer in the current novelization version, but I thought I'd let you all have a read, anyway. It may take a handful of posts to get the whole thing in here.
STORMFRONT
AN ORIGINAL MOTION PICTURE
Daniel Scott
FADE IN:
on a wasteland of ice and snow. We pull in on a shape, an OLD MAN half©buried in a drift. His face is framed by long white hair, and one of his eyes is covered by a rough black patch.
We watch as he stirs, comes to, and leaps up, fighting enemies that exist only in his memories. The howling wind subsides, and we hear him screaming.
Suddenly, there is a
VOICE (O.S.)
Be still, Father. We are with you.
The old man looks around, startled. Then anger darkens his face.
OLD MAN
Show yourself, Demon. Show me your face.
VOICE (O.S.)
Hold your ire, Father. We are *of* you.
The old man shivers against fear and the cold.
OLD MAN
(impatient)
Enough!
He looks around him again, spots a low stone wall, smoke rising up from chimneys beyond it. Running to strangers for help isn’t his way, but it’s better than freezing to death. He starts to run for the wall.
VOICE (O.S.)
That way lies Death, Father. Approach it not.
The old man utters a sharp, mirthless laugh, still moving.
OLD MAN
Death surrounds me, Demon, and I *fear* it not.
(wind picks up, wild and biting)
But I would be out of this damned wind!
He is almost at the wall now; spotting a gate, he moves toward it.
VOICE (O.S.)
(resigned)
We can warn you, Father, but we cannot bend your will.
CUT TO:
a crow, gliding serenely over the wall toward the old man. The wind that buffets the old man doesn’t even touch it.
CROW (V.O.)
See this golgotha, then.
But see it through *our* eyes, that you may see the truth.
The old man shivers.
OLD MAN
If this world is in disguise, Demon,
I don’t think I want to see the face beneath.
CROW (V.O.)
That is a choice best not left to you, Father.
It is too late for argument; the crow is upon him. The old man staggers under the combined impact of the bird and the battering wind. Its beak caresses his throat, his ear, and his face is sheathed in terror. Then the crow begins to chant:
CROW (V.O.)
We set our hearts to burning
We set our eyes aflame
We set our path on learning
Our enemy’s true name
The hour of our destruction
Draws near, quickens our pace
Make plain the source of chaos
Make plain our Enemy’s face
There is a FLASH of lightning, and we
CUT TO:
another view of the city. Harsh and arid, the wind still carries the debris of the world through which it dances; but what stirs on the air here is not snow but finely ground ash.
CROW (V.O.)
Welcome home, Father.
If he has heard what the crow said, the old man gives no sign. Instead, he steps toward the gate, through which he can see the broken houses of the village casting shattered shadows into the rubble©strewn streets. He begins to walk toward them ³
The crow reaches behind the old man’s ear, pinches the soft flesh there.
CROW (V.O.)
The old man opens his mouth to curse it, but the crow’s voice cuts his words down³
Look *closer!*
He does ³ and sees tiny, filthy talonned things scurrying through the trash, up and down walls, things whose fiery eyes leave searing tracers in the growing darkness.
OLD MAN
What are those ³
(impatient)
Quiet! Watch.
As the old man watches, the things race up the side of a pedestal, up the foot of a STATUE. It is a statue of a woman, regal in dress and bearing.
The old man focuses on her face, and we
CUT TO:
an earlier time. The old man walks into a grandly furnished bedroom. The woman is sitting there pretending to sew. We can see by her face that she is inwardly fuming.
OLD MAN
How goes it, Vena?
(coldly)
What is it to you?
The old man hangs his cloak on a peg carved upon the door.
OLD MAN
I know it troubles you... that I sent them away.
Understand me: it *is* for the best.
Vena stands, her arms at her sides, her face a mask of defiance.
The *best*! Best for whom? Them?
Sent away from their family to be raised by DAMNED DUST-MONKEYS?
Denied their heritage to protect them from some
ludicrous "catastrophe" that only *you* have foreseen?
OLD MAN
(wearily)
(shouting)
No! Your way is *not* the right way! Not this time!
*Damn* you!
She screams ³ and at the sound, everything in the room explodes. Shards of furniture, glass and porcelain become a whirlwind of destruction.
The old man takes his sobbing wife in his arms. He lifts a hand, and the destruction freezes in midair. With a gesture, the debris returns to its assigned forms and places.
CUT TO:
the present. Vena’s statue stands oblivious as the chittering things race up its leg. The old man blinks, stares, then shouts:
OLD MAN
You! Fucking bastard rats! Get off ³
Ssshh!
OLD MAN
(steps forward)
No! I’ve got to ³
(deafening)
*Silence!* If those things swarm you now,
*none* of this matters!
The old man watches as the chittering things race up te side of the statue, swarm over its head... and bore through the stone as if it were warm flesh.
And in the diseased half©light of this burned down world, the stone *screams*.
Then the crow is chanting again, a rhythmic cadence that lulls the old man’s eyes closed:
We dream of Time and Memory
We dream the Past awake
We dream us there to show this one
The future that’s at stake
We dream us back to Asgeyr’s fall
We dream the battle through
And all of this we pray we dream
To make the dream untrue
CUT TO:
the city in flames. The old man stumbles, his eyes tearing against the stench of ionization and the smoke of a raging battle.
He looks up as someone or something roars not two feet from him. Before him stands a gigantic proto©human animal wielding a massive warhammer. The old man steps aside barely in time as the hammer falls.
The giant is killed by the crow. The old man barely notices, for on the horizon he can *almost* see Things flailing, thrashing about in sunlight that denies them, Things that dance to the music of murder.
He has had enough of this madness. He turns to run ³ but his path is blocked by a man on horseback, a man whose face is framed by wild white hair whipping in the wind. (REVISE PARAGRAPHS I AND II, ADD DESCRIPTION OF OLD MAN)
Time stretches as the old man and the figure on horseback stare into identical faces, one the face of a weary and confused old man... the other the face of a terrified god.
OLD MAN ON HORSE
(stern)
Worldstorm.
Realization dawns on the old man’s face, then anguish.
OLD MAN
FADE TO:
the icy wasteland. The old man falls to his knees in the snow, the crow standing serenely a few feet away.
OLD MAN
Help me! I *can’t* be the highest power in this place!
If there is someone else, someone greater than I am, *help* me!
The wind howls its defiance.
There can be no help for you, Father.
You have looked on the First Ones, and you are damned for it.
There is only one road for you now.
OLD MAN
(looks up)
Tell me.
You must sacrifice, as you have done before.
Remember.
Thunder cracks again, and we
CUT TO:
An image of the old man hanging by his neck from a tree.
CUT TO:
the old man, light dawning in his good eye. He knows what he must do. He stands, begins to walk, throwing off his cloak and beginning to haltingly unfasten the leather thong that holds his shirt closed against the chill wind.
OLD MAN
Where is Death, Demon? How will I find my way?
The crow is silent a moment... then offers all the wisdom it has:
It is a dark road, Father, and swift.
Keep your eye upon the Way.
The old man looks up at the crow, respect and admiration in his eye. He offers it a weak smile against the cold.
OLD MAN
What is your name, Demon?
If you are to be my guide through Helle, tell me your name.
(quietly)
We are Legion.
The old man nods, then stumbles, falls... his chest rises, falls... and does not rise again.
CUT TO:
darkness. Deep and penetrating, the darkness surrounds the old man and fills him. In the darkness he can sense a presence.
OLD MAN
Who’s there?
Out of the darkness, many voices speak as one, angelic.
VOICES (V.O.)
You have made sacrifice, yourself unto yourself,
and it is good to us.
Now speak your will, that we may see it done.
OLD MAN
Who are you?
VOICES (V.O.)
We are what was. We are what is. We are what will be.
We are Stormangel.
The darkness is flooded, burnt away by a light so intense the old man cringes against it.
OLD MAN
What do you want from me?
STORMANGEL (V.O.)
You were called Lord of the Wild Hunt once.
Ride, for the Hunt is on.
OLD MAN
(shivers)
Kill those Things, you mean. But how ³
STORMANGEL
The First Ones mean to use
your traitor brother, Loki, as their vessel.
They hope that by sending him to Midgeyr,
they can possess the Mortals. From there, they mean to
become one with the Stormcore itself.
OLD MAN
The Core! But that’s ³
Stormangel laughs; it is a terrifying sound.
STORMANGEL (V.O.)
Impossible? You forgot, Odin... *we* are impossible.
Regardless of notions of possibility or impossibility,
they mean to try.
Your brother wears your Aspect. Stopping him may be
more challenge than you can hold.
OLD MAN
And if I can’t stop him?
STORMANGEL (V.O.)
Rally your children in Midgeyr. It is their time.
This is why you sent them.
The old man has one last question for the being who calls itself Stormangel; the question nearly catches in his throat, but then:
OLD MAN
(timidly)
Who am I? Who am I *now?*
The old man shivers against a sudden chill
STORMANGEL (V.O.)
You are your world.
Your world is ash now... and so are you.
A sudden wave of force throws the old man, shrieking, back into the darkness.
CUT TO:
Legion, perched atop the old man’s chest. A thin layer of ice has formed, but still the bird stands vigil, waiting.
Footsteps approach, crunching through the hardened snow. We
CUT TO:
a tall man in a black duster and broad©brimmed black hat. It is ASH. Legion looks up.
I’ll need wheels, and a weapon.
LEGION
Follow.
Legion flies from the body in a blast of black wings.
Ash has had enough of the ice and cold. He concentrates, and in a flash of lightning, the illusion of winter is gone.
Legion leads him to a door set in the wall. Ash opens it and walks a ramp down into a subterranean room, his eyes burning through the darkness within.
Inside he finds a motorcycle. He looks on it and smiles. His smile fades as he looks to a rack on the wall and sees a pistol©gripped shotgun there.
LEGION
(nods at shotgun)
The Hammer.
Ash takes it down, inspects it, then drops it into a scabbard on the motorcycle.
These are all Ash needs. He swings a leg over the saddle of the bike, kicks it into roaring life,
LEGION
The Storm is coming, Father.
Ash revs the bike, letting its roar echo across a dead landscape. He looks at the crow.
Then we go to meet it!
With that, he blasts up the ramp and toward a horizon on fire with sunrise.
And in his wake, thunder rolls.
FADE TO:
OPENING CREDITS
CUT TO:
EXT. HIGHWAY 101
just outside the small town of North Point, Washington. We see a car, a grey 1990 Honda CIVIC, just flying down the highway.
CUT TO:
INT. CIVIC
as the driver, BRANDON COLE, 22 years old, reaches over and turns down the radio. From the passenger side, his friend KEVIN BARRINGER shoots him an annoyed glance.
Hey man, what the fuck? It was just getting to the good part!
BRANDON
I gotta ask you guys something.
(looks around, passengers get nervous)
BARRINGER
Uh... you want a cigarette man?
BRANDON
(takes one)
Thanks. So what do I get Brigette for Christmas?
In the back seat, another of Brandon’s friends, MIKE SCANLON, speaks up.
Why don’t you get her what you got her last year?
Brandon’s friends laugh.
BRANDON
Ha. Ha. Ha. Fuck you.
That was pure accident.
BARRINGER
Yeah. So what’d your Uncle Joe think when he
opened his box?
BRANDON
He said... he said the negligee was very cute.
(looking into rearview mirror)
But he… what the fuck is this guy’s problem?
In the rearview mirror, we see a semi truck coming up much too fast. The personalized license plate reads "XODUS".
The semi pulls alongside Brandon’s car, cruising in the wrong lane of the two-lane highway. Brandon looks over.
BRANDON
Brandon does a double-take as his passengers look, too. The man driving the semi turns and grins at them. His eyes are gone, trails of dried blood still on his cheeks.
EVERYONE
*Shit!*
The driver of the semi laughs ³ a shrill, lunatic cackle and wrenches the wheel hard toward Brandon’s car. No match for the semi’s power or mass, the Civic is thrown off the road.
Brandon sees the drainage ditch a fraction of a second before his car hits it and rolls. When they finally come to a stop, the car is overturned. Kevin Barringer is dead, rather obviously so.
Brandon, barely conscious, looks out, notices raindrops falling. Heavy clouds are gathering.
BRANDON
(whispers)
Storm coming...
Brandon loses consciousness as we
FADE TO BLACK
CUT TO:
EXT. PINE VALLEY MALL
where we see KATRINA REILLY, 19 years old, sitting alone at an open©air cafe, drinking coffee and checking off names on a piece of paper. Two large bags full of Christmas presents sit in the chair beside her.
She looks up at a young man making his way through the crowd toward her, and her eyes widen. She recognizes him; it is MARK KELLEY, her ex©boyfriend.
KATRINA
Oh, *no.*
She gets up quickly, taking her bags. Stepping through the doors to the mall, she takes out her cell phone.
KATRINA
Becky?
On the other end of the line, her friend Becky picks up.
Kat? Girl, what’s wrong?
Katrina looks behind her. Mark is still following her.
KATRINA
Becky, where are you? Mark ³
(angry)
Psycho boy is here? I’m at Lady Foot Locker,
get your ass up here.
KATRINA
(looking over her shoulder)
Hope you’ve got a plan, Becks.
I’ll be there in a click, and I’m sure
I’ll have company.
Katrina slips the phone back into her pocket and begins to walk more quickly.
From behind her, she can hear Mark bulling his way through the crowds of shoppers. She picks up the pace, genuinely scared now.
CUT TO:
Katrina exiting the mall at a run. Mark is not far behind. She dodges into a crowd of shoppers. Mark pauses, looking for her. A beat later, he spots her out in the parking lot.
Katrina jumps into her car, slams the door, and peels out of the parking lot. Several blocks down the street, just as she’s beginning to feel safe, she spots Mark’s white Jeep Wrangler a few cars behind her.
She begins to speed. A police cruiser flashes her, and she reluctantly pulls over. A STATE TROOPER steps out of the cruiser, his six©foot©five©plus frame looming over her car. He strides up to her door, moving with the certainty of a steam engine.
He puts his anvil©sized fist out in front of him like a man reading his watch, then cranks it slowly counterclockwise, indicating she should roll down the window.
She complies, dread written on her face. The cop hunkers down; it seems to take an hour. Under his mirrored shades and Smokey the Bear trooper’s hat, his face is stony, expressionless.
TROOPER
(conversationally)
Aft’noon, ma’am. May I see your
license and regerstration, please?
Katrina reaches for the glove box.
TROOPER
(hand goes to his gun)
Slowly.
(smiles)
If y’all don’t mind.
Katrina hands over her paperwork, trembling.
KATRINA
(smiles weakly)
Are you from Texas by any chance, sir?
My family and I lived there for awhile.
TROOPER
(coldly)
Well, now. Ain’t that nice.
Terrified and spellbound, Katrina jumps when she hears the sound of tires on the gravel shoulder behind them. The cop straightens up fast, much faster than Katrina would have believed possible for a man of his size, and snaps his head in that direction.
It is Mark’s jeep. Mark steps out.
TROOPER
(stern)
Get back in the vehicle, sir. Keep moving.
Mark throws up his hands, a dumb grin on his face.
Aw, c’mon, man! I’m just a concerned ³
TROOPER
(going for his gun)
I ain’t gonna tell you again, boy!
The Trooper is within arm’s reach. He moves to turn Mark bodily around. Mark somehow slips out of his grasp, taking the Trooper’s gun hand in his own. They scuffle.
Panicked, Katrina guns her engine and throws gravel as she speeds away from the scene. She is shaking, breathing fast. Then she hears gunshots and, after a moment, begins to sob.
CUT TO:
EXT. ALLEY
JOHN MERCHANT, a boy of 16, runs through the dripping dark, barely staying on his feet. From behind him comes the voice of his foster©father, JAMES MERCHANT.
(voice slurred)
John! Oh, John©boy! Come to Daddy! C’mere, ya little narc!
The sound of a trash can falling over follows the man’s slurred shout.
John, having instinctively paused, takes off running again.
John! *You get your ass back here, you little fuck!*
John’s foot catches the edge of something; he falls. His foster©father’s footsteps are coming up fast. Panicked, he gets up; but it’s too late to try running ³ it’s time to hide. John’s lip curls in contempt at the idea, but he has no choice.
CUT TO:
James Merchant running into small courtyard where John is hiding.
(infuriated)
*GOD DAMN YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!*
James reaches into a coat pocket, pulls out a straight razor. With a demented grin on his face, he begins to search the alley.
Where are you, boy?
(slashes at a cardboard box)
I know your lyin little ass is here!
I can *smell* you.
James comes within inches of John, and the boy’s nerve snaps. He pounces, a wild animal. They tangle and go down. When it’s all over, John staggers to his feet, bleeding but not seriously hurt. His foster©father is not so lucky.
(dying)
He’s coming, you little (cough) shit.
Coming ©
(coughs up blood) ³ coming for you...
John doesn’t wait to see who the dying junkie is talking about. Before the wail of sirens reaches the alley, he’s gone, off and running again.
We PULL IN on James Merchant’s eyes... eyes as black and bottomless ³ as terrifyingly inhuman ³ as the deepest pits of Hell. The corpse smiles, and we
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN:
INT. ST. MARCUS REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER
Doctors, nurses and orderlies rush down the hospital corridors, some wheeling gurneys with groggy patients, some jotting notes on clipboards.
We follow a nurse into Room 134, where we see BRANDON lying comatose on a bed, the monitor above his head chirping busily.
The nurse leans over him, making notes. Brandon is oblivious, dreaming.
We
CUT TO:
BRANDON’S DREAM
Brandon is sitting at a desk, blinded by an overhead floodlamp. Across from him sits a PALE MAN, his bottomless black eyes boring into the back of Brandon’s head.
PALE MAN
All right, Mr. Cole.
I want you to start from the beginning.
(takes a sip of coffee)
I want you to tell me again exactly what you saw.
BRANDON
(sighs)
I don’
t think so.
The pale man’
s face contorts in fury.
little
The pale man stands, knocking over his chair. He looms threateningly over Brandon.
PALE MAN
The telephone on the pale man’
s desk rings.
He stiffens, then looks down at it. His face is etched in shock and surprise.
The phone continues to ring. Reluctantly, the pale man picks it up. He listens for a moment. His face, impossibly, grows whiter.
He looks up at Brandon.
PALE MAN
(whispers)
It’
s for you.
Brandon takes the phone from the pale man.
BRANDON
Hello?
The dream shifts around Brandon, and we
CUT TO:
Brandon, now standing at a payphone in a cavernous cathedral.
Brandon barely notices; the voice at the other end of the phone has his complete attention. It is the voice of Legion.
LEGION
Brandon Cole.
BRANDON
Who are you?
LEGION
We are the messenger.
Would you hear the message?
Brandon looks up from the phone, looks around him. His eyes widen.
BRANDON
fuckin’
dream!
(beat)
Yeah, what the hell. Play me the message.
SHIFT TO:
Brandon, standing at the mouth of a forbidding cavern. He drops his empty hand to his side and looks into the darkness beyond a pair of guttering torches.
Legion flies out of the cave toward Brandon, golden eyes gleaming.
SHIFT TO:
INT. CAVERN
Brandon sits on the blanket on the floor of the cavern. Ash sits gazing placidly at him across a small fire.
ASH
Vidar.
(smiles grimly)
It’
s time. The Storm is here.
Brandon’
s face pales. He shakes his head.
BRANDON
What storm? What are you talking about?
Who are you?
ASH
You already know. Remember.
Ash reaches out over the fire, passes his hand over Brandon’
s eyes, and we
SHIFT TO:
a courtyard in Valhalla. Sunlight streams across the face of a boy barely out of infancy. Odin holds him wrapped in a thick blanket. Vena looks lovingly at her son, kisses the father. The baby looks up at the darkening sky, cries, and we
SHIFT TO:
lightning ripping through swiftly rolling storm clouds. The image darkens as we
SHIFT TO:
Brandon, Katrina and John walking down the white line of a highway at high noon, their faces set with determination, their eyes brightening, turning to gold as we
FADE TO:
Brandon, back in the cave. He looks up.
BRANDON
What do I do?
ASH
Find your sister and brother.
(holds up a finger at Brandon’
s questioning look)
Your heart will lead you to them.
You will take them to Times Square. There we will
meet again.
BRANDON
And him.
ASH
My brother, the Trickster.
He is called Exodus now.
If I cannot stop him...
(looks down)
It falls to you three.
Brandon listens intently... then smiles.
BRANDON
Well, this has been fun... daddy.
Say goodnight, Gracie, I’
m outta here.
Legion lands on Brandon’
s shoulder, caws loudly. Brandon turns to see the bird melt, stretch and take the shape of a tall man in priest’
s clothing.
LEGION
Pass not your hour.
Do as you are bidden;
find your soul and follow your road.
Brandon looks up at Legion, and his expression is grim. Sunlight begins to filter into the dream from the waking world, and Brandon disappears in it. Ash looks up from the fire, looks into Legion’
s carved
face.
ASH
(quietly)
Will the boy listen?
LEGION
We cannot say.
FADE TO SUNLIGHT
then
BLACKOUT
FADE IN:
KATRINA’
S BEDROOM
Katrina is in bed, twitching slightly as a dream seizes her.
SHIFT TO:
HIGHWAY 101
Katrina looks around at the empty highway, then sees a car overturned in the nearby field. She walks toward it, looking for signs of life.
KATRINA
(concerned)
Hello? Hello! Does anyone need help?
There is no answer. As she reaches the car, Katrina sees the blood that drenches the interior and turns away, trying not to gag.
After composing herself, she looks back, and sees the face of the driver staring back at her with empty eyes. His neck is twisted at an obscene angle.
Her face drains of color; she knows him somehow. She looks away out into the field.
She sees a cross, and a man upon it, nailed there with jagged shards of stained glass. Quicksilver flows from his pierced wrists, his ankles, a gash in his side. His golden eyes stare lifeless back at her. A crow, also golden©eyed, lights upon his broad black hat.
KATRINA
(mumbles)
F©father?
(shakes her head to clear it)
Wait...
She closes her eyes, tilts her head back; she looks as if she is being filled with something.
Suddenly, there is a voice from behind her.
BRANDON
Katrina.
She whirls in terror. The driver of the overturned car, whole and unharmed, his eyes gleaming, faces her.
KATRINA
You ³
BRANDON
Listen to me.
KATRINA
(holds up a hand)
I know... I
almost
know. Wait...
(beat)
Worldstorm.
BRANDON
(nods)
That’
s right.
I didn’
t believe it, not until just now.
But I think the old man was telling the truth.
(beat)
It’
s coming.
coming.
Union, Arizona. Go there.
And watch your ³
CUT TO:
KATRINA’
S BEDROOM
The sound of broken glass echoes. Instinctively, Katrina rolls away from the the empty frame where the sliding glass door was only seconds earlier.
A dark man©shape towers over her bed, something glints in the moonlight; Katrina picks up her alarm clock and hurls it at the silhouette.
Gunshots roar in the small space, chewing holes in the nightstand next to Katrina, shattering the lamp on the nightstand, thudding into the wall.
Shrapnel flies, and blood wells up on Katrina’
s arm, her chest, her face.
From down the hall, running footsteps, shouts and screams.
The man©shape steps back for a better aim. Moonlight drapes itself across his face ³ it’
s Mark. He levels the gun.
Behind him, the door flies open. Katrina’
s foster©father Travis charges into the room, a baseball bat in his hand. He takes a swing.
But Mark is supernaturally fast. He turns, steps into Travis Reilly, and fires a single shot.
The report of the gun is muffled, sickeningly dull. Reilly crumples to his knees and begins to cough and retch.
Mark turns back to Katrina, a twisted grin on his face.
In the darkness, he begins to whistle as he ejects the spent clip from the gun, reaches into his pocket, and inserts another.
Katrina stops trembling; a look of perfect calm smooths her face. Her eyes lose focus and drift shut. She begins to hum.
As her hum builds, the room fills with a soft violet radiance.
Mark stops whistling; his eyes shift left to right, right to left. His jaw goes slack.
The hum builds finally to a scream. The deep radiance that fills the room focusses into a point of light that bores into Mark’
s skull.
Mark begins to tremble as Katrina’
s scream continues to build. Blood begins to flow from his ears and eyes. He shakes violently, then lifts completely off the floor.
Bones crack as Mark’
s shaking increases further still. Finally, Katrina’
s scream dies ³ and Mark’
s lifeless body collapses to the floor.
Katrina shakes her head, her eyes clenched shut. When she opens her eyes, tears run down her cheeks. She goes to her foster©father.
Hoping that whatever power helped her stop Mark is still with her, she puts her hand against Reilly’
s wound, and begins to sing softly.
Nothing happens. She closes her eyes, concentrates... and still nothing.
Sirens rise in the distance.
Katrina’
s foster©mother, Kelly, steps through the doorway, sees her husband, fallen and dying, and collapses beside him in tears.
KELLY
(glares at Katrina)
Get out.
(screams)
CUT TO:
REILLY HOUSE
Katrina’
s Nissan Sentra backs out of the driveway, fast.
CUT TO:
SENTRA
Katrina stares out into the darkness.
KATRINA
(to herself)
Union, Arizona...
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN:
INT. GREYHOUND #1742, EASTBOUND
John Merchant slumps in Seat 42©A. He stopped noticing the growl of the engine four hours ago.
He yawns, stares wearily out the window they roll east through the night, through a darkness that seems, unending, unstoppable.
John’
s eyes drift shut; his chin drops, and he dreams.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE CITY
John is running ³ again, a voice runs faster, catches his ear. Again, it is the voice of James Merchant.
JAMES
(slurred)
Get’
cha boy! I’
m gonna ³
John turns a corner, and Merchant is there. A spectre of rags and ruin, James Merchant is more moving meat than man. His face hangs in folds and flaps. A lipless grin stretches the ghoul’
s tortured face.
JAMES
(continuing)
³get’
John is caught in the inhuman grip of the twisted thing; he struggles, but there’
s no breaking away from those icy fingers. Then there is another voice; soft, soothing, she calls ³
VOICE (O.S.)
John. Let go, John.
John laughs, but there is only terror in the sound.
t let go of
VOICE (O.S.)
Let go of that thing, John.
Let go of your guilt, and come home to us.
John glares at the animated carcass that grips him, looks into its empty eyes...
JOHN
You’
re not my fault.
(snarls)
fault!
John shoves the rotting thing away; it hits the wall behind it and shatters in a cloud of fine white dust.
The dust hangs in the air... and begins to move. Lazily at first, it swirls in an unseen vortex.
Before John can back away, the dust envelops him in a small but powerful cyclone. He shields his face against it.
When he opens his eyes, he is standing at the side of a highway. A crescent moon leers down at him with a demoniac Cheshire©cat grin.
The road. And beyond the road a tree rises, stretches toward a sky moving much too fast, clouds racing from dawn’
s cradle to dusk’
s grave.
The tree cradles a woman; she stretches an arm toward him, beckoning. Her limbs are ice©pale, long and supple like the limbs of the tree that seems almost to cradle her like a child.
Then he stops, looks up at the tree, at the leaves: they’
re glowing, mild hues radiating from them... and each of them is singing; some in anger, some in joy, fear, love, compassion. The leaves form a chorus of worlds.
JOHN
(after a beat, still barely there)
What is this place? Who are you?
He looks down at the woman sitting serenely against the tree.
Her face, beneath a cascade of ruby curls, is carved of ivory ³ her golden eyes are shining, her pale, perfect lips curve in a playful smile.
WOMAN
This is Everywhere.
(beat)
And I am Not Yet.
JOHN
Hey ³
s gone. John turns, disappointed, when she grabs his head from behind. Her eyes are blazing with white light.
WOMAN
Look!
(a leaf falls from the tree)
Watch a world die...
(the leaf touches the ground, fades to ashes; screams echo)
s face pales. He shakes his head, barely able to comprehend, much less cope.
JOHN
(choking out the words)
Was that ³
WOMAN
Your world?
(shakes her head)
No. A world, yes. But not yours. Not yet.
(turns him, looks into his eyes.)
There isn’
t much time... look!
She reaches out to the tree. Her nails, sharp and silver, dig into the bark; her fingers tense, rip the bark aside.
Beneath the bark of the tree, a sort of black jelly writhes is horrible rhythms. Through this mad ooze squirm small, multi©limbed insects, clicking horribly to themselves in some accursed language of decay.
WOMAN
The disease is spreading. The Core is growing sick.
John reaches out, his expression one of curiosity mingling with disgust. The woman makes no move to stop him, simply smiles enigmatically.
STORMFRONT
AN ORIGINAL MOTION PICTURE
Daniel Scott
FADE IN:
on a wasteland of ice and snow. We pull in on a shape, an OLD MAN half©buried in a drift. His face is framed by long white hair, and one of his eyes is covered by a rough black patch.
We watch as he stirs, comes to, and leaps up, fighting enemies that exist only in his memories. The howling wind subsides, and we hear him screaming.
Suddenly, there is a
VOICE (O.S.)
Be still, Father. We are with you.
The old man looks around, startled. Then anger darkens his face.
OLD MAN
Show yourself, Demon. Show me your face.
VOICE (O.S.)
Hold your ire, Father. We are *of* you.
The old man shivers against fear and the cold.
OLD MAN
(impatient)
Enough!
He looks around him again, spots a low stone wall, smoke rising up from chimneys beyond it. Running to strangers for help isn’t his way, but it’s better than freezing to death. He starts to run for the wall.
VOICE (O.S.)
That way lies Death, Father. Approach it not.
The old man utters a sharp, mirthless laugh, still moving.
OLD MAN
Death surrounds me, Demon, and I *fear* it not.
(wind picks up, wild and biting)
But I would be out of this damned wind!
He is almost at the wall now; spotting a gate, he moves toward it.
VOICE (O.S.)
(resigned)
We can warn you, Father, but we cannot bend your will.
CUT TO:
a crow, gliding serenely over the wall toward the old man. The wind that buffets the old man doesn’t even touch it.
CROW (V.O.)
See this golgotha, then.
But see it through *our* eyes, that you may see the truth.
The old man shivers.
OLD MAN
If this world is in disguise, Demon,
I don’t think I want to see the face beneath.
CROW (V.O.)
That is a choice best not left to you, Father.
It is too late for argument; the crow is upon him. The old man staggers under the combined impact of the bird and the battering wind. Its beak caresses his throat, his ear, and his face is sheathed in terror. Then the crow begins to chant:
CROW (V.O.)
We set our hearts to burning
We set our eyes aflame
We set our path on learning
Our enemy’s true name
The hour of our destruction
Draws near, quickens our pace
Make plain the source of chaos
Make plain our Enemy’s face
There is a FLASH of lightning, and we
CUT TO:
another view of the city. Harsh and arid, the wind still carries the debris of the world through which it dances; but what stirs on the air here is not snow but finely ground ash.
CROW (V.O.)
Welcome home, Father.
If he has heard what the crow said, the old man gives no sign. Instead, he steps toward the gate, through which he can see the broken houses of the village casting shattered shadows into the rubble©strewn streets. He begins to walk toward them ³
The crow reaches behind the old man’s ear, pinches the soft flesh there.
CROW (V.O.)
The old man opens his mouth to curse it, but the crow’s voice cuts his words down³
Look *closer!*
He does ³ and sees tiny, filthy talonned things scurrying through the trash, up and down walls, things whose fiery eyes leave searing tracers in the growing darkness.
OLD MAN
What are those ³
(impatient)
Quiet! Watch.
As the old man watches, the things race up the side of a pedestal, up the foot of a STATUE. It is a statue of a woman, regal in dress and bearing.
The old man focuses on her face, and we
CUT TO:
an earlier time. The old man walks into a grandly furnished bedroom. The woman is sitting there pretending to sew. We can see by her face that she is inwardly fuming.
OLD MAN
How goes it, Vena?
(coldly)
What is it to you?
The old man hangs his cloak on a peg carved upon the door.
OLD MAN
I know it troubles you... that I sent them away.
Understand me: it *is* for the best.
Vena stands, her arms at her sides, her face a mask of defiance.
The *best*! Best for whom? Them?
Sent away from their family to be raised by DAMNED DUST-MONKEYS?
Denied their heritage to protect them from some
ludicrous "catastrophe" that only *you* have foreseen?
OLD MAN
(wearily)
(shouting)
No! Your way is *not* the right way! Not this time!
*Damn* you!
She screams ³ and at the sound, everything in the room explodes. Shards of furniture, glass and porcelain become a whirlwind of destruction.
The old man takes his sobbing wife in his arms. He lifts a hand, and the destruction freezes in midair. With a gesture, the debris returns to its assigned forms and places.
CUT TO:
the present. Vena’s statue stands oblivious as the chittering things race up its leg. The old man blinks, stares, then shouts:
OLD MAN
You! Fucking bastard rats! Get off ³
Ssshh!
OLD MAN
(steps forward)
No! I’ve got to ³
(deafening)
*Silence!* If those things swarm you now,
*none* of this matters!
The old man watches as the chittering things race up te side of the statue, swarm over its head... and bore through the stone as if it were warm flesh.
And in the diseased half©light of this burned down world, the stone *screams*.
Then the crow is chanting again, a rhythmic cadence that lulls the old man’s eyes closed:
We dream of Time and Memory
We dream the Past awake
We dream us there to show this one
The future that’s at stake
We dream us back to Asgeyr’s fall
We dream the battle through
And all of this we pray we dream
To make the dream untrue
CUT TO:
the city in flames. The old man stumbles, his eyes tearing against the stench of ionization and the smoke of a raging battle.
He looks up as someone or something roars not two feet from him. Before him stands a gigantic proto©human animal wielding a massive warhammer. The old man steps aside barely in time as the hammer falls.
The giant is killed by the crow. The old man barely notices, for on the horizon he can *almost* see Things flailing, thrashing about in sunlight that denies them, Things that dance to the music of murder.
He has had enough of this madness. He turns to run ³ but his path is blocked by a man on horseback, a man whose face is framed by wild white hair whipping in the wind. (REVISE PARAGRAPHS I AND II, ADD DESCRIPTION OF OLD MAN)
Time stretches as the old man and the figure on horseback stare into identical faces, one the face of a weary and confused old man... the other the face of a terrified god.
OLD MAN ON HORSE
(stern)
Worldstorm.
Realization dawns on the old man’s face, then anguish.
OLD MAN
FADE TO:
the icy wasteland. The old man falls to his knees in the snow, the crow standing serenely a few feet away.
OLD MAN
Help me! I *can’t* be the highest power in this place!
If there is someone else, someone greater than I am, *help* me!
The wind howls its defiance.
There can be no help for you, Father.
You have looked on the First Ones, and you are damned for it.
There is only one road for you now.
OLD MAN
(looks up)
Tell me.
You must sacrifice, as you have done before.
Remember.
Thunder cracks again, and we
CUT TO:
An image of the old man hanging by his neck from a tree.
CUT TO:
the old man, light dawning in his good eye. He knows what he must do. He stands, begins to walk, throwing off his cloak and beginning to haltingly unfasten the leather thong that holds his shirt closed against the chill wind.
OLD MAN
Where is Death, Demon? How will I find my way?
The crow is silent a moment... then offers all the wisdom it has:
It is a dark road, Father, and swift.
Keep your eye upon the Way.
The old man looks up at the crow, respect and admiration in his eye. He offers it a weak smile against the cold.
OLD MAN
What is your name, Demon?
If you are to be my guide through Helle, tell me your name.
(quietly)
We are Legion.
The old man nods, then stumbles, falls... his chest rises, falls... and does not rise again.
CUT TO:
darkness. Deep and penetrating, the darkness surrounds the old man and fills him. In the darkness he can sense a presence.
OLD MAN
Who’s there?
Out of the darkness, many voices speak as one, angelic.
VOICES (V.O.)
You have made sacrifice, yourself unto yourself,
and it is good to us.
Now speak your will, that we may see it done.
OLD MAN
Who are you?
VOICES (V.O.)
We are what was. We are what is. We are what will be.
We are Stormangel.
The darkness is flooded, burnt away by a light so intense the old man cringes against it.
OLD MAN
What do you want from me?
STORMANGEL (V.O.)
You were called Lord of the Wild Hunt once.
Ride, for the Hunt is on.
OLD MAN
(shivers)
Kill those Things, you mean. But how ³
STORMANGEL
The First Ones mean to use
your traitor brother, Loki, as their vessel.
They hope that by sending him to Midgeyr,
they can possess the Mortals. From there, they mean to
become one with the Stormcore itself.
OLD MAN
The Core! But that’s ³
Stormangel laughs; it is a terrifying sound.
STORMANGEL (V.O.)
Impossible? You forgot, Odin... *we* are impossible.
Regardless of notions of possibility or impossibility,
they mean to try.
Your brother wears your Aspect. Stopping him may be
more challenge than you can hold.
OLD MAN
And if I can’t stop him?
STORMANGEL (V.O.)
Rally your children in Midgeyr. It is their time.
This is why you sent them.
The old man has one last question for the being who calls itself Stormangel; the question nearly catches in his throat, but then:
OLD MAN
(timidly)
Who am I? Who am I *now?*
The old man shivers against a sudden chill
STORMANGEL (V.O.)
You are your world.
Your world is ash now... and so are you.
A sudden wave of force throws the old man, shrieking, back into the darkness.
CUT TO:
Legion, perched atop the old man’s chest. A thin layer of ice has formed, but still the bird stands vigil, waiting.
Footsteps approach, crunching through the hardened snow. We
CUT TO:
a tall man in a black duster and broad©brimmed black hat. It is ASH. Legion looks up.
I’ll need wheels, and a weapon.
LEGION
Follow.
Legion flies from the body in a blast of black wings.
Ash has had enough of the ice and cold. He concentrates, and in a flash of lightning, the illusion of winter is gone.
Legion leads him to a door set in the wall. Ash opens it and walks a ramp down into a subterranean room, his eyes burning through the darkness within.
Inside he finds a motorcycle. He looks on it and smiles. His smile fades as he looks to a rack on the wall and sees a pistol©gripped shotgun there.
LEGION
(nods at shotgun)
The Hammer.
Ash takes it down, inspects it, then drops it into a scabbard on the motorcycle.
These are all Ash needs. He swings a leg over the saddle of the bike, kicks it into roaring life,
LEGION
The Storm is coming, Father.
Ash revs the bike, letting its roar echo across a dead landscape. He looks at the crow.
Then we go to meet it!
With that, he blasts up the ramp and toward a horizon on fire with sunrise.
And in his wake, thunder rolls.
FADE TO:
OPENING CREDITS
CUT TO:
EXT. HIGHWAY 101
just outside the small town of North Point, Washington. We see a car, a grey 1990 Honda CIVIC, just flying down the highway.
CUT TO:
INT. CIVIC
as the driver, BRANDON COLE, 22 years old, reaches over and turns down the radio. From the passenger side, his friend KEVIN BARRINGER shoots him an annoyed glance.
Hey man, what the fuck? It was just getting to the good part!
BRANDON
I gotta ask you guys something.
(looks around, passengers get nervous)
BARRINGER
Uh... you want a cigarette man?
BRANDON
(takes one)
Thanks. So what do I get Brigette for Christmas?
In the back seat, another of Brandon’s friends, MIKE SCANLON, speaks up.
Why don’t you get her what you got her last year?
Brandon’s friends laugh.
BRANDON
Ha. Ha. Ha. Fuck you.
That was pure accident.
BARRINGER
Yeah. So what’d your Uncle Joe think when he
opened his box?
BRANDON
He said... he said the negligee was very cute.
(looking into rearview mirror)
But he… what the fuck is this guy’s problem?
In the rearview mirror, we see a semi truck coming up much too fast. The personalized license plate reads "XODUS".
The semi pulls alongside Brandon’s car, cruising in the wrong lane of the two-lane highway. Brandon looks over.
BRANDON
Brandon does a double-take as his passengers look, too. The man driving the semi turns and grins at them. His eyes are gone, trails of dried blood still on his cheeks.
EVERYONE
*Shit!*
The driver of the semi laughs ³ a shrill, lunatic cackle and wrenches the wheel hard toward Brandon’s car. No match for the semi’s power or mass, the Civic is thrown off the road.
Brandon sees the drainage ditch a fraction of a second before his car hits it and rolls. When they finally come to a stop, the car is overturned. Kevin Barringer is dead, rather obviously so.
Brandon, barely conscious, looks out, notices raindrops falling. Heavy clouds are gathering.
BRANDON
(whispers)
Storm coming...
Brandon loses consciousness as we
FADE TO BLACK
CUT TO:
EXT. PINE VALLEY MALL
where we see KATRINA REILLY, 19 years old, sitting alone at an open©air cafe, drinking coffee and checking off names on a piece of paper. Two large bags full of Christmas presents sit in the chair beside her.
She looks up at a young man making his way through the crowd toward her, and her eyes widen. She recognizes him; it is MARK KELLEY, her ex©boyfriend.
KATRINA
Oh, *no.*
She gets up quickly, taking her bags. Stepping through the doors to the mall, she takes out her cell phone.
KATRINA
Becky?
On the other end of the line, her friend Becky picks up.
Kat? Girl, what’s wrong?
Katrina looks behind her. Mark is still following her.
KATRINA
Becky, where are you? Mark ³
(angry)
Psycho boy is here? I’m at Lady Foot Locker,
get your ass up here.
KATRINA
(looking over her shoulder)
Hope you’ve got a plan, Becks.
I’ll be there in a click, and I’m sure
I’ll have company.
Katrina slips the phone back into her pocket and begins to walk more quickly.
From behind her, she can hear Mark bulling his way through the crowds of shoppers. She picks up the pace, genuinely scared now.
CUT TO:
Katrina exiting the mall at a run. Mark is not far behind. She dodges into a crowd of shoppers. Mark pauses, looking for her. A beat later, he spots her out in the parking lot.
Katrina jumps into her car, slams the door, and peels out of the parking lot. Several blocks down the street, just as she’s beginning to feel safe, she spots Mark’s white Jeep Wrangler a few cars behind her.
She begins to speed. A police cruiser flashes her, and she reluctantly pulls over. A STATE TROOPER steps out of the cruiser, his six©foot©five©plus frame looming over her car. He strides up to her door, moving with the certainty of a steam engine.
He puts his anvil©sized fist out in front of him like a man reading his watch, then cranks it slowly counterclockwise, indicating she should roll down the window.
She complies, dread written on her face. The cop hunkers down; it seems to take an hour. Under his mirrored shades and Smokey the Bear trooper’s hat, his face is stony, expressionless.
TROOPER
(conversationally)
Aft’noon, ma’am. May I see your
license and regerstration, please?
Katrina reaches for the glove box.
TROOPER
(hand goes to his gun)
Slowly.
(smiles)
If y’all don’t mind.
Katrina hands over her paperwork, trembling.
KATRINA
(smiles weakly)
Are you from Texas by any chance, sir?
My family and I lived there for awhile.
TROOPER
(coldly)
Well, now. Ain’t that nice.
Terrified and spellbound, Katrina jumps when she hears the sound of tires on the gravel shoulder behind them. The cop straightens up fast, much faster than Katrina would have believed possible for a man of his size, and snaps his head in that direction.
It is Mark’s jeep. Mark steps out.
TROOPER
(stern)
Get back in the vehicle, sir. Keep moving.
Mark throws up his hands, a dumb grin on his face.
Aw, c’mon, man! I’m just a concerned ³
TROOPER
(going for his gun)
I ain’t gonna tell you again, boy!
The Trooper is within arm’s reach. He moves to turn Mark bodily around. Mark somehow slips out of his grasp, taking the Trooper’s gun hand in his own. They scuffle.
Panicked, Katrina guns her engine and throws gravel as she speeds away from the scene. She is shaking, breathing fast. Then she hears gunshots and, after a moment, begins to sob.
CUT TO:
EXT. ALLEY
JOHN MERCHANT, a boy of 16, runs through the dripping dark, barely staying on his feet. From behind him comes the voice of his foster©father, JAMES MERCHANT.
(voice slurred)
John! Oh, John©boy! Come to Daddy! C’mere, ya little narc!
The sound of a trash can falling over follows the man’s slurred shout.
John, having instinctively paused, takes off running again.
John! *You get your ass back here, you little fuck!*
John’s foot catches the edge of something; he falls. His foster©father’s footsteps are coming up fast. Panicked, he gets up; but it’s too late to try running ³ it’s time to hide. John’s lip curls in contempt at the idea, but he has no choice.
CUT TO:
James Merchant running into small courtyard where John is hiding.
(infuriated)
*GOD DAMN YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!*
James reaches into a coat pocket, pulls out a straight razor. With a demented grin on his face, he begins to search the alley.
Where are you, boy?
(slashes at a cardboard box)
I know your lyin little ass is here!
I can *smell* you.
James comes within inches of John, and the boy’s nerve snaps. He pounces, a wild animal. They tangle and go down. When it’s all over, John staggers to his feet, bleeding but not seriously hurt. His foster©father is not so lucky.
(dying)
He’s coming, you little (cough) shit.
Coming ©
(coughs up blood) ³ coming for you...
John doesn’t wait to see who the dying junkie is talking about. Before the wail of sirens reaches the alley, he’s gone, off and running again.
We PULL IN on James Merchant’s eyes... eyes as black and bottomless ³ as terrifyingly inhuman ³ as the deepest pits of Hell. The corpse smiles, and we
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN:
INT. ST. MARCUS REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER
Doctors, nurses and orderlies rush down the hospital corridors, some wheeling gurneys with groggy patients, some jotting notes on clipboards.
We follow a nurse into Room 134, where we see BRANDON lying comatose on a bed, the monitor above his head chirping busily.
The nurse leans over him, making notes. Brandon is oblivious, dreaming.
We
CUT TO:
BRANDON’S DREAM
Brandon is sitting at a desk, blinded by an overhead floodlamp. Across from him sits a PALE MAN, his bottomless black eyes boring into the back of Brandon’s head.
PALE MAN
All right, Mr. Cole.
I want you to start from the beginning.
(takes a sip of coffee)
I want you to tell me again exactly what you saw.
BRANDON
(sighs)
I don’
t think so.
The pale man’
s face contorts in fury.
little
The pale man stands, knocking over his chair. He looms threateningly over Brandon.
PALE MAN
The telephone on the pale man’
s desk rings.
He stiffens, then looks down at it. His face is etched in shock and surprise.
The phone continues to ring. Reluctantly, the pale man picks it up. He listens for a moment. His face, impossibly, grows whiter.
He looks up at Brandon.
PALE MAN
(whispers)
It’
s for you.
Brandon takes the phone from the pale man.
BRANDON
Hello?
The dream shifts around Brandon, and we
CUT TO:
Brandon, now standing at a payphone in a cavernous cathedral.
Brandon barely notices; the voice at the other end of the phone has his complete attention. It is the voice of Legion.
LEGION
Brandon Cole.
BRANDON
Who are you?
LEGION
We are the messenger.
Would you hear the message?
Brandon looks up from the phone, looks around him. His eyes widen.
BRANDON
fuckin’
dream!
(beat)
Yeah, what the hell. Play me the message.
SHIFT TO:
Brandon, standing at the mouth of a forbidding cavern. He drops his empty hand to his side and looks into the darkness beyond a pair of guttering torches.
Legion flies out of the cave toward Brandon, golden eyes gleaming.
SHIFT TO:
INT. CAVERN
Brandon sits on the blanket on the floor of the cavern. Ash sits gazing placidly at him across a small fire.
ASH
Vidar.
(smiles grimly)
It’
s time. The Storm is here.
Brandon’
s face pales. He shakes his head.
BRANDON
What storm? What are you talking about?
Who are you?
ASH
You already know. Remember.
Ash reaches out over the fire, passes his hand over Brandon’
s eyes, and we
SHIFT TO:
a courtyard in Valhalla. Sunlight streams across the face of a boy barely out of infancy. Odin holds him wrapped in a thick blanket. Vena looks lovingly at her son, kisses the father. The baby looks up at the darkening sky, cries, and we
SHIFT TO:
lightning ripping through swiftly rolling storm clouds. The image darkens as we
SHIFT TO:
Brandon, Katrina and John walking down the white line of a highway at high noon, their faces set with determination, their eyes brightening, turning to gold as we
FADE TO:
Brandon, back in the cave. He looks up.
BRANDON
What do I do?
ASH
Find your sister and brother.
(holds up a finger at Brandon’
s questioning look)
Your heart will lead you to them.
You will take them to Times Square. There we will
meet again.
BRANDON
And him.
ASH
My brother, the Trickster.
He is called Exodus now.
If I cannot stop him...
(looks down)
It falls to you three.
Brandon listens intently... then smiles.
BRANDON
Well, this has been fun... daddy.
Say goodnight, Gracie, I’
m outta here.
Legion lands on Brandon’
s shoulder, caws loudly. Brandon turns to see the bird melt, stretch and take the shape of a tall man in priest’
s clothing.
LEGION
Pass not your hour.
Do as you are bidden;
find your soul and follow your road.
Brandon looks up at Legion, and his expression is grim. Sunlight begins to filter into the dream from the waking world, and Brandon disappears in it. Ash looks up from the fire, looks into Legion’
s carved
face.
ASH
(quietly)
Will the boy listen?
LEGION
We cannot say.
FADE TO SUNLIGHT
then
BLACKOUT
FADE IN:
KATRINA’
S BEDROOM
Katrina is in bed, twitching slightly as a dream seizes her.
SHIFT TO:
HIGHWAY 101
Katrina looks around at the empty highway, then sees a car overturned in the nearby field. She walks toward it, looking for signs of life.
KATRINA
(concerned)
Hello? Hello! Does anyone need help?
There is no answer. As she reaches the car, Katrina sees the blood that drenches the interior and turns away, trying not to gag.
After composing herself, she looks back, and sees the face of the driver staring back at her with empty eyes. His neck is twisted at an obscene angle.
Her face drains of color; she knows him somehow. She looks away out into the field.
She sees a cross, and a man upon it, nailed there with jagged shards of stained glass. Quicksilver flows from his pierced wrists, his ankles, a gash in his side. His golden eyes stare lifeless back at her. A crow, also golden©eyed, lights upon his broad black hat.
KATRINA
(mumbles)
F©father?
(shakes her head to clear it)
Wait...
She closes her eyes, tilts her head back; she looks as if she is being filled with something.
Suddenly, there is a voice from behind her.
BRANDON
Katrina.
She whirls in terror. The driver of the overturned car, whole and unharmed, his eyes gleaming, faces her.
KATRINA
You ³
BRANDON
Listen to me.
KATRINA
(holds up a hand)
I know... I
almost
know. Wait...
(beat)
Worldstorm.
BRANDON
(nods)
That’
s right.
I didn’
t believe it, not until just now.
But I think the old man was telling the truth.
(beat)
It’
s coming.
coming.
Union, Arizona. Go there.
And watch your ³
CUT TO:
KATRINA’
S BEDROOM
The sound of broken glass echoes. Instinctively, Katrina rolls away from the the empty frame where the sliding glass door was only seconds earlier.
A dark man©shape towers over her bed, something glints in the moonlight; Katrina picks up her alarm clock and hurls it at the silhouette.
Gunshots roar in the small space, chewing holes in the nightstand next to Katrina, shattering the lamp on the nightstand, thudding into the wall.
Shrapnel flies, and blood wells up on Katrina’
s arm, her chest, her face.
From down the hall, running footsteps, shouts and screams.
The man©shape steps back for a better aim. Moonlight drapes itself across his face ³ it’
s Mark. He levels the gun.
Behind him, the door flies open. Katrina’
s foster©father Travis charges into the room, a baseball bat in his hand. He takes a swing.
But Mark is supernaturally fast. He turns, steps into Travis Reilly, and fires a single shot.
The report of the gun is muffled, sickeningly dull. Reilly crumples to his knees and begins to cough and retch.
Mark turns back to Katrina, a twisted grin on his face.
In the darkness, he begins to whistle as he ejects the spent clip from the gun, reaches into his pocket, and inserts another.
Katrina stops trembling; a look of perfect calm smooths her face. Her eyes lose focus and drift shut. She begins to hum.
As her hum builds, the room fills with a soft violet radiance.
Mark stops whistling; his eyes shift left to right, right to left. His jaw goes slack.
The hum builds finally to a scream. The deep radiance that fills the room focusses into a point of light that bores into Mark’
s skull.
Mark begins to tremble as Katrina’
s scream continues to build. Blood begins to flow from his ears and eyes. He shakes violently, then lifts completely off the floor.
Bones crack as Mark’
s shaking increases further still. Finally, Katrina’
s scream dies ³ and Mark’
s lifeless body collapses to the floor.
Katrina shakes her head, her eyes clenched shut. When she opens her eyes, tears run down her cheeks. She goes to her foster©father.
Hoping that whatever power helped her stop Mark is still with her, she puts her hand against Reilly’
s wound, and begins to sing softly.
Nothing happens. She closes her eyes, concentrates... and still nothing.
Sirens rise in the distance.
Katrina’
s foster©mother, Kelly, steps through the doorway, sees her husband, fallen and dying, and collapses beside him in tears.
KELLY
(glares at Katrina)
Get out.
(screams)
CUT TO:
REILLY HOUSE
Katrina’
s Nissan Sentra backs out of the driveway, fast.
CUT TO:
SENTRA
Katrina stares out into the darkness.
KATRINA
(to herself)
Union, Arizona...
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN:
INT. GREYHOUND #1742, EASTBOUND
John Merchant slumps in Seat 42©A. He stopped noticing the growl of the engine four hours ago.
He yawns, stares wearily out the window they roll east through the night, through a darkness that seems, unending, unstoppable.
John’
s eyes drift shut; his chin drops, and he dreams.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE CITY
John is running ³ again, a voice runs faster, catches his ear. Again, it is the voice of James Merchant.
JAMES
(slurred)
Get’
cha boy! I’
m gonna ³
John turns a corner, and Merchant is there. A spectre of rags and ruin, James Merchant is more moving meat than man. His face hangs in folds and flaps. A lipless grin stretches the ghoul’
s tortured face.
JAMES
(continuing)
³get’
John is caught in the inhuman grip of the twisted thing; he struggles, but there’
s no breaking away from those icy fingers. Then there is another voice; soft, soothing, she calls ³
VOICE (O.S.)
John. Let go, John.
John laughs, but there is only terror in the sound.
t let go of
VOICE (O.S.)
Let go of that thing, John.
Let go of your guilt, and come home to us.
John glares at the animated carcass that grips him, looks into its empty eyes...
JOHN
You’
re not my fault.
(snarls)
fault!
John shoves the rotting thing away; it hits the wall behind it and shatters in a cloud of fine white dust.
The dust hangs in the air... and begins to move. Lazily at first, it swirls in an unseen vortex.
Before John can back away, the dust envelops him in a small but powerful cyclone. He shields his face against it.
When he opens his eyes, he is standing at the side of a highway. A crescent moon leers down at him with a demoniac Cheshire©cat grin.
The road. And beyond the road a tree rises, stretches toward a sky moving much too fast, clouds racing from dawn’
s cradle to dusk’
s grave.
The tree cradles a woman; she stretches an arm toward him, beckoning. Her limbs are ice©pale, long and supple like the limbs of the tree that seems almost to cradle her like a child.
Then he stops, looks up at the tree, at the leaves: they’
re glowing, mild hues radiating from them... and each of them is singing; some in anger, some in joy, fear, love, compassion. The leaves form a chorus of worlds.
JOHN
(after a beat, still barely there)
What is this place? Who are you?
He looks down at the woman sitting serenely against the tree.
Her face, beneath a cascade of ruby curls, is carved of ivory ³ her golden eyes are shining, her pale, perfect lips curve in a playful smile.
WOMAN
This is Everywhere.
(beat)
And I am Not Yet.
JOHN
Hey ³
s gone. John turns, disappointed, when she grabs his head from behind. Her eyes are blazing with white light.
WOMAN
Look!
(a leaf falls from the tree)
Watch a world die...
(the leaf touches the ground, fades to ashes; screams echo)
s face pales. He shakes his head, barely able to comprehend, much less cope.
JOHN
(choking out the words)
Was that ³
WOMAN
Your world?
(shakes her head)
No. A world, yes. But not yours. Not yet.
(turns him, looks into his eyes.)
There isn’
t much time... look!
She reaches out to the tree. Her nails, sharp and silver, dig into the bark; her fingers tense, rip the bark aside.
Beneath the bark of the tree, a sort of black jelly writhes is horrible rhythms. Through this mad ooze squirm small, multi©limbed insects, clicking horribly to themselves in some accursed language of decay.
WOMAN
The disease is spreading. The Core is growing sick.
John reaches out, his expression one of curiosity mingling with disgust. The woman makes no move to stop him, simply smiles enigmatically.
