Sir Mel Haze

FADE IN:

EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

Tepid is the snow which gathers upon the earth, chomping at the feet of a hostile foe.

Churning, shuffling, wobbling, a man of weary age wavers at the edge of an impoverished plot, mud coagulating with beaten dirt.

JONAH, a man without years, scatters brittle earth with a bitter disposition, shoveling feral snow upon a barren wasteland.

Head demure, eyes forsaken, Jonah whispers a prayer of feverish desperation.

In due time, with little more than a nod of recognition, Jonah abandons all he has ever created. Into the void. Into the night. Into the unprecedented darkness which illuminates his fright.

EXT. ROAD - NIGHT

Neither shivering nor shaking, Jonah limps along steadily, cars passing by with irritable hesitation. Between flashes of light darkness prevails. All that is heard is that of weary footsteps, heavy feet, a meager limp.

Lights linger. Engines lull. A man of questionable intentions offers his assistance.

Jonah offers only refutations.

The man scoffs. Drives off.

A few more pass by.

Screeching. Shrieking. Screaming. Three bulky men gather like prey. Pounce. Capture. Consume. Drag Jonah away.

Jonah struggles, worms, tries to break free. No avail.

Jonah is thrown into a van and the van drives away.

INT. VAN - NIGHT

Jonah sits among men, three bulky and him, entrapped by them and a psychiatric sling.

The three nod blocky heads in dull contemplation.

One of the three, he who sits closest to Jonah, taps Jonah lightly on the knee and knocks on a back window.

The barrier divides and the driver hands back a hidden device.

Tears of sweat ache Jonah’s body. Eyes stare with unkempt fear at the ominous item.

Rustling. Shuffling.

Out is pulled...four...hideous...awful...granola bars.

One is offered to Jonah, but Jonah shakes his head solemnly.

The man unwraps all four, hands one to each, and grabs Jonah by the jaw, opening wide.

The bulky man gently stuffs the granola bar down Jonah’s throat. Jonah begrudgingly obliges.

The bulky men pass around a flask and offer it to Jonah. Jonah nods and is given a swig.

INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY

Jonah sits among others similar to eachother: a circle of anxiety and miserable anticipation.

Though they are mute their mannerisms are caustic: twitching, moaning, biting.

Jonah struggles and squirms with futile resilience.

A man of composure orchestrates the room. All fall silent with his glass covered stare. Jonah too.

The man sits in a chair in the middle of the room, peering meditatively from one face to another.

His smile is cold.

The man stands, taps one on the shoulder, and the young woman follows, the two gone for unbearable minutes.

Moaning. Screaming. The screeching of violence.

The woman returns; hair rattled, but otherwise unharmed.

The distinguished man taps Jonah lightly. Jonah refuses. The man taps again. Still nothing. The man sighs, gestures.

Two bulky men carry Jonah off, followed by the man who wipes at his glasses with a small felt cloth.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Jonah sits in a chair across from his captor.

The man gestures to a book in a queer foreign language. Jonah negotiates the book and opens it cautiausly.

The man bellows, adjusts his thick glasses, and flips the book over. The words appear no less foreign. The man writes something down and confiscates the item.

The man hands Jonah a paintbrush and some lead-ridden paint, setting the canvas gracefully before him.

Jonah looks to the man: confused. The man smiles reassuringly. Jonah dips and dabs and paints monochromatic hues. Again. And again. And again.

The man scribbles and gestures and the canvas is taken.

The man hands Jonah a box and gestures at it wildly. A series of latches and false doors bar his trite entry.

Jonah attempts with some effort but to little effect. Jonah struggles for some time before the box too is stolen.

The man stands, gestures, smiles.

Jonah hesitates. Shakes. Ticks.

Two men approach. Grab. Pull. Carry. Drag.

INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY

Stumbling, fumbling, mumbling.

Jonah is thrown into a chair forsaken by all others, abusers slamming one door after another.

Alone, Jonah reciprocates the act to little effect. First to the left, then to the right. Locked. Jonah then tries the windows. Those too are locked. Jonah studies the room, steps to the stage.

Upon the stage rots a trap door, overwrought with overuse. Jonah pulls and pushes and jumps and kicks but has little more than a creaking effect.

A middle aged woman of stately concern relapses into the dungeon. Two men follow.

The woman gestures to Jonah and the two men oblige.

Jonah is dragged away.

INT. CAFETERIA - NIGHT

Jonah sits amongst strangers, one next to another, all well over fifty, all except for Jonah.

They eat feverishly as Jonah hardly munches.

The middle aged woman floats through the room with not even the slightest etch of a smile.

Seeing Jonah, the woman approaches, nothing but cruel rage and devilish contempt fueling her corruption.

The woman gestures to the porridge which Jonah hardly touches. Jonah shakes his head, pushes the porridge away. The woman gestures to a man and the man draws near.

The man grabs a spoon, Jonah’s jaw, and rushes putrid food down Jonah’s throat.

Jonah gags and fights.

Another man is called and the two stuff slop down his thin gullet, Jonah squirming at the taste of every miserable bite.

Jonah knocks over the bowl and the hall falls silent.

Drip, the porridge falls, from the table, to the floor.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

INT. SHOWERS - NIGHT

Jonah stands stark naked with the exception of a small decency which God has afforded around his shriveled genitalia.

Covered in porridge, Jonah drips, shivering.

The sound of a hose. Running water. A brutal pain. Water rushes again and again and again, Jonah unable to stop the horrid pain.

Plastered to the wall, Jonah shutters, screams, begs.

The downpour stops. The water ceases. Men hover near. Offer a blanket.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

A bed, a dresser, a cold hard floor.

Jonah stands at its precipice. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

A woman enters, smiles. Steps towards Jonah, something in her hand. Reflects. Glitters. Sharp.

Jonah steps back. Another. Another. Against the wall. Screaming. Yelling. Silence.

The woman places the object into Jonah’s hand: a piece of hard candy. Jonah stares at the candy, then at the woman, the woman making the bed.

Made, the woman sits, pats. Jonah sits too.

The woman kisses Jonah lightly and lays down beside him.

Lights flicker off.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

Jonah awakes enshrouded in decor of floral ineptitude.

One bed is now two, the window abandoned for a meager still.

Jonah adjusts the stark clothes which he never changed into.

Jonah steps into the bathroom.

INT. BATHROOM - DAY

Jonah repulses at the sight of a shattered reflection, grasping at the pieces which lie upon the mantle.

A man moseys by, shutters, rushes in, grabs Jonah by the hand. Squeezes.

Blood dripping. Jonah screaming. The man screeching

Glass falls meekly.

Jonah is dragged away.

INT. OFFICE - DAY

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing but white. Nothing but brutal, blistering white.

Among nothing, nothing but light, Jonah sits patiently.

A woman in white.

The woman pulls at Jonah’s hands and removes pitiful bandages.

The woman sighs and studies, flagrant hands now covered in new born scars. The woman moves, scatters, retrieves, wraps.

Wrapped in gauze, Jonah looks to the woman. The woman scribbles something speculative, rips it, and hands it to Jonah. A single word.

Run.

Jonah looks to the woman but the woman is gone.

INT. CAFETERIA - DAY

Jonah contemplates a bowl of pitiful soup. Bobbing meat sways in erroneous grime. Jonah pokes at the meat but the meat refuses penetration, offering not even the vaguest notion of defeat.

Jonah looks to the others eating carnivorously. Jonah hesitantly takes a minuscule bite. Coughs. Gags.

Jonah pushes the gruel away.

The man sitting across from him, rather young, his own bowl empty, looks to Jonah. The young man, NOLAN, points to the food. Jonah shakes his head.

Nolan greedily grabs the bowl and pulls it towards his own, eating all the time.

Jonah pulls out the paper from his front pocket, reads it again, and pushes it to Nolan.

Nolan, with now two empty bowls, peers absently at the paper.

A woman approaches and Jonah nervously stuffs the paper back into his pocket. Nolan gives Jonah a queer look. Jonah holds a finger to his lips. Another woman draws near.

Nolan pushes back the bowl and offers a hesitant smile. Nolan draws a finger to his own lips. Jonah smiles and the woman passes.

EXT. COURTYARD - DAY

Men and women of different ages and creeds and sizes shuffle through a tepid mockery of a stately courtyard, nothing to do but watch dying grass and growing weeds flail in the misery of approaching doom.

Far in the distance looms a meager forest, mostly cut down some years before, from which every so often an animal disloges, though none have been seen for quite a long while.

Each and every one of those sufferers who shuffles along the paved path is followed by a man and a woman, one on each side, smiling almost politely in a menacing sort of manner.

These captors are known as FOLLOWERS.

Jonah’s personal followers are not exactly the peak of the bunch, but nothing to scoff at either. If Jonah were so ignorant as to try to get away, he would soon be ceased.

Jonah acknowledges these harsh truths and instead scouts the facility, doing his best to draw no attention.

To his immediate left is a country road, followed by what appears to be an endless field of corn and wheat.

To his right is the forest, nothing but grass hindering his escape.

Before him, a few hundred feet away, is a rather large lake, so large in fact one could not likely see the other end of it from any three-dimensional perspective.

Jonah acknowledges these facts and smiles rather gloomily.

Jonah sits on a bench. His followers likewise.

Jonah looks for some friend, some conspirator, some alliance, but his friends are few, his enemies many.

Jonah sighs.

Jonah looks to his own two enemies who smile bored smiles and knows they too can be of no use.

A man far in the distance attempts a futile escape, running towards the flithy murky lake. His followers follow with nothing more than apathy. The man jumps in, but before too long realizes he can’t swim.

Screams for mercy.

The two followers follow, clothes and all, into the water.

Their efforts are useless, their time wasted. By the time the two reach the place where the man once was, the man is long gone.

INT. BALLROOM - DAY

Jonah sits at a table, surrounded by others, watching a security guard check the ID’s of one visitor after another.

A middle aged woman, VIRGINIA, enters the room along with her daughter, 6 year old LUCY. Virginia points to his table and Lucy sits next to her mother, humming lackadaisically and staring at the oddity.

Lucy hums the song Saguta Sanshiro.

Virginia rummages through her purse. Searches, mumbles, grumbles, finds. Pulls out a knife.

Jonah hesitates. Lucy laughs.

Virginia pushes. Pulls. Plays with her daughter.

Stabs.

Again and again and again.

Lucy giggles. Jonah screams. Virginia leaps.

Jonah pushes. Shoves. Pulls.

Virginia shrieks.

Guards rush in. Pull Jonah away.

Lucy chuckles. Chews.

Virginia muffles an awful moan.

Lucy clutches the dropped knife and offers it to Jonah.

Jonah looks to the guards who release him apathetically.

Jonah, with shaking hands, accepts the sharp knife. Lucy points to her mouth and Jonah tilts his head quizzically. Jonah offers the knife but the girl won’t take it. Jonah then turns to Virginia who sighs, nods, and retrieves it.

Virginia looks to her watch and mumbles something strange. Lucy nods, walks, skips, and hugs.

Jonah reciprocates.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

Jonah wrings sweaty hands again and again and again. Before him, upon the bed, quakes a ragged knife.

A tap on the door. A second. A third. Jonah doesn’t move.

The door opens and a young woman enters.

The woman pulls Jonah tenderly and Jonah gives in.

Out of the room and into the hall, Jonah is lead away from the knife and towards certain destruction.

INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY

Shuffling, waddling, stumbling, hoards of people push past broken old seats, sitting one next to another, in front and behind and to the side of each other.

Egged on by the crowd, Jonah is pushed to a seat. Not next to him, but the seat next to the seat next to him, sits Nolan.

A tap tap tap. Some mumbled words. Bows against strings. A symphony plays.

Jonah reaches across the stranger, around the seat, to Nolan. Nolan turns, and behind the back of the stranger, Jonah reaches into his pocket, and hands Nolan a scrap of paper

Nolan palms the wrinkled note and reads it inconspicously.

Nolan turns back to Jonah, bewildered. Jonah points to his mouth. Nolan doesn’t understand. Jonah fakes chewing, still Nolan feigns confusion. Jonah gestures the sign of eating, and finally Nolan understands.

Nolan eats the paper.

INT. CAFETERIA - DAY

Nolan and Jonah sit across from each other, both silently eating, Jonah consumed by inevitable hunger.

Nolan picks at his food, Spaghetti O’s, and pulls out a small group of letters: a word.

Nolan pushes the mess across the table. Jonah peers down to a single word: don’t.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jonah stands in a room, a bed at its center, the knife on the edge of a forsaken throw.

Jonah steps to the window, pulls, locked. Looks out, nothing. Jonah walks to the door, pulls. No different.

Jonah walks to the bathroom, the same as before, the mirror strutting a new magnificent gloss. Jonah peers into the looking glass and washes his face. Across from him stands not his own, but a man of twice his age.

Jonah touches his skin, his wrinkles, his rot.

Jonah grows anxious, concerned, terrified. Backs to a wall, a door. Screaming. Screeching. Howling.

A slamming door. Yelling. A man and a woman. Soothing. Calming. Breathing. Still Jonah screams.

The pair grows restless. Reluctant. Pull Jonah away. Strapped to a bed.

Jonah squirms.

The woman pulls out a syringe, squeezes it tight, and plucks it in his arm with great might.

Jonah grows weary.

Breathing slowed, eyes wary, wraps become undone; the marauders slowly back away.

Jonah is left alone, he and his knife, one next to the other, each his own fool in this miserable paradise.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Snow covered feet drag heavy weight.

Frozen, unmoving. A dark substance trails.

Feet drop. Heavy breaths. Feet move again.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

Jonah paces the room from one end to another, window to door, door to window, the knife regurgitating febrile anxiety.

Jonah paces. And paces. And paces.

A knock on the door. A woman walks in. Jonah dares not a breath.

The woman approaches and confiscates the weapon.

Jonah watches with tepid anxiety through a dust-covered reflection.

The woman smiles, pulls a finger to her lips, and places the knife into a drawer next to the bed.

EXT. COURTYARD - DAY

Jonah stands amongst concrete, morbid ground which kills all it touches, staring out into the infinite foreign landscape which lays out before him.

His followers sit ahead of him, ten feet forward, on a bench speaking conspiratorially to one and other.

A woman makes a break for it, this time the road.

The woman is tackled. Breaks free. Runs. Sprints.

A car. A truck. Honking. Screeching.

A loud thump.

The body is pulled away.

INT. BALLROOM - DAY

Jonah sits before Virginia and Lucy, though blonde hair is now black, elongated faces now short, Virginia skinnier than before, Lucy with just a bit more pudge.

Virginia tumbles through her purse and pulls out a letter inscribed to Jonah.

Jonah opens the letter but to no avail. All that can be made out is his own name repeated again and again and again.

Virginia sobs.

Jonah looks up, confused. Virginia blows her nose, and from her purse withdraws a gun, pointing the devilish thing at Jonah’s face.

Jonah screams. Cries. Jumps to his feet. Guards draw near. Virginia sighs. Jonah backs away.

Lucy rips the gun from her mother’s hands, jumps over the table, and leaps towards Jonah, giggling, laughing, pointing.

Jonah fumbles to a wall, trapped. A gun on one side, the girl on the other, Virginia too busy crying to do much about it.

The girl draws close, cocks the gun. Closer. Closer. Too close.

Jonah grabs the gun. Pushes, shoves. Moves to punch. Restrained.

Lucy cries. Virginia sobs. Jonah is dragged away.

INT. ROOM - DAY

Jonah sits in a chair, strapped arm to arm, no longer struggling in feeble exhaustion.

A man enters, middle aged, glasses, smiling. The man sits next to Jonah.

For a breathless long moment the scholar studies Jonah and his unkempt anxiety, withholding contempt with a stoic chagrin.

Jonah refuses reaction and the scholar scribbles something meaningless.

Jonah struggles: a futile effort. Guards draw near but are soon waved away. The scholar scribbles something more.

Still Jonah struggles. Still the man scribbles. Again. And again. And again.

A woman enters, approaches, and whispers to the scholar. Nodding, the scholar encourages her exit, and moves closer to Jonah, breath fogging heavy glasses.

Gages are turned and buckles are loosened. For a short, brief moment, Jonah is free.

Guards draw near in weary recognition. Still the scholar insists on the guards’ dutiful resistance.

Jonah studies the room and pushes the scholar. Into a chair. Onto soft cushions.

Guards move to attack, Jonah to defense, the scholar to smile.

Jonah backs to a window. Pulls. Locked. The guards draw closer, nearer. Jonah pulls, harder, harder, fervently, trying to break. The guards too quick.

Grab, throw. On the ground. Jonah wrestles with one, then the other.

The guards over power. He is placed in restraints.

Panting, Jonah is left on the floor, the guards dismissed with disdain.

The scholar frowns and looms. Again he releases Jonah from his restraints. Jonah refuses reaction. The scholar does just the same.

Slowly, Jonah climbs to his feet, adjusting his tactic as he studies his domain: no one but him and the scholar.

The scholar motions to a chair, sitting in his own. Jonah backs to the window, pulling with intent.

Nothing.

Jonah turns, back to the scholar, trying again and again and again. Locks breaking. Wood cracking. The window finally opens.

Eight stories high, too far to even think about jumping. Jonah looks back to the room, searching. Jonah looks through the drawers, cabinets, everything. Nothing in anything.

Jonah tries the door, banging and pushing but no longer breaking. Still the scholar sits.

Jonah grabs the scholar by the collar, slamming him against a feeble wall. The scholar offers an incoherent smile.

Jonah throws the scholar to the ground, panting.

The scholar climbs to his feet, closes the window, sits in his chair, and motions for Jonah to do just the same.

Exhausted, Jonah sits.

A woman enters, smiles, and whispers to the scholar. The scholar frowns, nods, stands, and exits.

Waiting, waiting, nothing.

Jonah, with care, again checks the drawers and cabinets. Still nothing. Jonah then looks under everything over. Still nothing.

Jonah searches the two chairs, the cushions, the leather restraints similar to a belt.

Jonah pushes the scholar’s chair against the door and detaches the restraints.

Standing by the door, Jonah waits. Footsteps, mumbled voices. A knock. A push. A struggle. A shove.

The door is slowly wedged open. A woman looks in.

Leather against skin, steel against bone, pulling taut, tighter, tighter, tight. Gasping, grasping, struggling, not breathing.

Jonah pushes the door open, pushes the woman forward, and pushes the two into a long narrow hallway.

INT. HALL - DAY

Incandescent radiation bulges from grimy walls, besmirching bitter smiles in a dark lit hall.

Thinking, straining, struggling, Jonah turns to the right, pushing at his captive, gathering momentum with every forced step.

Dead end. Open door. Empty room.

Another. Another. All just the same.

Jonah backtracks, past his own, to a corner.

Voice. Voices. Footsteps. Jonah rounds a corner, skin against skin, woman against him.

Two strangers walk by, neither noticing the man nor the woman.

Jonah follows. Down a hall, to a corner, peering past.

At the end of the hall lies a rickety old elevator. A button. Push. Push. Waiting. Looking. Searching. Breathing.

The bell rings. Off to the side, hiding, waiting, no one.

Jonah pushes in, along with the woman.

INT. ELEVATOR - DAY

No numbers. No letters. Foreign characters on queer buttons.

Hesitating, guessing, Jonah picks the button with a symbol at its side.

Elevator music. Heavy breathing. Coughing. Struggling. The woman still held captive. The doors open.

Darkness. Bitter, irritable darkness. Jonah steps in, pushes the woman forward.

INT. BASEMENT - DAY

Cold, muggy, moldy, humid. Water screeching. People laughing. Faded lights of off-brand yellow.

A boiler. A heater. Soft mumbled words.

Footsteps. Closer. Closer. Jonah pulls the woman into the shadows.

Two men pass by, turn right, open something.

Creaking. Pushing. A door. Fresh air. Natural light.

Rushing. Running. Tripping. Not falling. Recovering. Finding.

Laughter. Smoke. Light. Just on the other side. Inches away.

Breath goes heavy. An exasperated scream. No reaction.

One second. Two seconds. Three.

Jonah pushes forward. The door gives way. Fresh air. Blinding light.

EXT. BUILDING - DAY

Two men. Smoking. Staring.

Jonah slowly pulls back. Further. Farther. The woman tight in his grasp.

The men step close. Closer. Closer.

Jonah pulls tighter. The men stop, wary, one whispering to the other. Leaving, running, back to the building.

Jonah backs away, further, farther, faster, quicker, the men no longer keeping pace.

Away. Far away. Into a field. Near the woods. Escape. Escape. Almost there.

A crack. A whip. A moaning pain.

The woman runs free. Jonah falls from his feet.

INT. ROOM - NIGHT

Crickets whisper. Insects lull. Jonah moans in decrepit pain.

Jonah sits, rubs his leg. A small bruise. A stinging strain.

Jonah winces. Stands. Hobbles to the latrine. Dares not peer into the mirror. Washes his face. Limps back to the bed.

Stops. Pauses. A drawer slightly opened.

Push. Pull. Smile.

In the drawer lies a knife, gleaming with the delight of inevitable recognition. Jonah takes it from its place.

Jonah looks out the window. Second. Maybe third.

Jonah pushes the knife between the window. Forces the lock. A cheerful click.

The door opens. A woman enters. The knife drops.

The woman searches the bathroom, under the bed. A drawer. Another. Another. Frowning.

Jonah pulls the knife under, under his foot, slowly sliding the sharp object across the hardwood floor.

The woman gasps, rushes, approaches. To the window. Straight to Jonah.

Touching. Grabbing. Finding. A small mirror on the ledge.

Smiling, the woman exits.

Jonah moves back to the window, trying again. Closer, but still another lock.

Jonah picks up his knife and wedges it between glass. Another click.

Jonah sets down the knife, looks back to the door. Stops.

Jonah pushes, shoves. The dresser in front of the door.

Jonah backs to the window, back to false freedom.

A small light reflects in the gruesome night. Out the window. Into the courtyard.

A man and his cane. Another and his hat. Another. And another. And another.

The sun begins to rise.

Jonah sighs, head against glass, knife on its edge.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Jonah’s head against the window.

Jonah picks up the knife, puts it back in its place, and moves the dresser back to its former resting space.

Jonah sits, thinks, waits.

INT. CAFETERIA - DAY

Jonah and Nolan muster through slop, eyes low as people march by, one after another after another after another.

Between bites Jonah reaches into his pocket and places a paper between him and his confederate.

On the crinkled paper is a single word: tonight.

Nolan shakes his head. Jonah nods. Nolan grabs Jonah’s arm, pleading. Jonah brushes him aside, pointing to the paper.

Nolan sighs, shakes his head, and stuffs the paper into his mouth.

INT. BALLROOM - DAY

Jonah and Virginia and Lucy sit one next to another next to another, two against one, Lucy a bit smaller, Virginia a bit taller.

Lucy plays with a toy car, humming as she does. Virginia sits frowning, sighing, waiting for nothing.

Jonah recalls a lost item, retrieves a paper from his pocket, and hands it to Lucy.

Lucy gives it an odd look and gives it to her mother.

Virginia smiles, stands, kisses her daughter, and walks away.

Lucy continues to play with her toy car as Jonah sits in dismay.

Misjudged distance. Too much force. The car goes flying.

Jonah stands and Lucy goes rushing, the two to the car, near another table where a group of people sit mumbling.

Under the table Jonah grabs the car, goes to stand, hits his head, wobbles back.

Lucy laughs.

Jonah, in recognition of his humor, fumbles with the car, dropping the small vehicle again and again. Jonah then fakes tripping, falling, onto his belly. Lucy laughs even harder.

Jonah, with a smile, awkwardly wrenches and writhes, attempting with some effort to never stand. Lucy still laughs as people begin to gawk.

Jonah collides with table after table, Lucy following and laughing.

Jonah falls to the ground, lightly pulling Lucy with him.

Virginia screams.

Pulled away quick, Virginia holds Lucy tight, a glare so cold even Satan would be frightened.

Lucy begins to cry.

Jonah stands, fumbles, mumbles.

Virginia backs away. Guards draw near. Jonah holds out his hands.

Lucy is pulled away. Further. Farther. Out the door. Gone. Away. Escaped.

Jonah is left alone, still holding the precious toy car.

INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY

Jonah sits next to another and another and another, all in a circle, Nolan far too far off to speak conspiratorially.

In the middle sits a man, crying, bawling, acknowledging no other.

From the group each offers a hand.

The crying man shakes each but still feigns misery.

Jonah’s turn.

Jonah stands, walks over to the man, grabs him by the hand.

The man pulls him close. Whispers.

Jonah stands, stunned.

The woman next to him draws near, taps him on the shoulder, and Jonah relapses back into his chair.

The man in the middle, having shaken each and everyone’s hand, stands with eyes still red, and walks to the stage.

The man smiles.

A knock on the door, far to the right. Each turns to look. Nothing. No one. Back to the stage.

The man is gone.

A cacophony of cheers.

Doors open and the herd escapes, one after another after another. All except for Jonah and Nolan.

Nolan points to the stage. Jonah follows.

The two stand on the stage and find the trap door where the man got away.

The two push and the door opens.

Nolan descends, followed by Jonah.

INT. BASEMENT - DAY

Though it is dark, too dark to see, many whisper screams: boilers, heaters, softeners.

Light flickers. Footsteps flutter.

Nolan follows echoes. Jonah follows Nolan.

Farther and farther, deeper and deeper, away from escape, away from light, away from hope. Towards darkness. Towards fear. Towards maleficent malice.

Laughing, mumbling, the sound of an open door. Nolan points. Jonah nods.

A voice. Two. Ten. Closer. Closer.

Seeing. Finding. Yelling.

Running. Faster. Faster. Get away. Must get away. Heart beating. Heavy breathing. Little light.

Nolan moves farther, farther, too far to see. Voices draw near.

A slamming door. Jonah looks up: footsteps. Follows.

Nothing. Nothing.

Screams cascade upon his putrid body, maruaders incredibly close.

Terrifying. Screeching. Pursuing.

Trapped. Wall. Corner. No where to go. Nothing to see. Something bumpy. Something smooth. Rungs. A ladder.

Jonah climbs, people at his feet. Higher and higher, hitting a ceiling.

Pushing, slamming, screaming. Doors fly open.

INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY

Gasping. Clawing. Climbing. Out the door and through the hole. Pushing, shutting, slamming.

Shut.

Jonah backs away, from the stage, down the steps, to the door, the barred hole beating with violence.

Jonah trips. Falls. A chair askew.

To the door. To the lock. Knocking. Slamming. Yelling.

The door opens. A woman enters. Looks to Jonah.

Sound falls to nothing.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Jonah squirms in a chair in an almost empty room, no window to spare, no sofa or couch or anything but the sparse lodgings of a few empty chairs.

A man enters and smiles, shakes and sits, just across from Jonah, smiling with weary intent.

Another man enters and does just the same.

Then a third.

The three sit. One next to another and another, all staring at Jonah without an inkling of malice.

Jonah looks down at his hands, then back at the men, then the room around them: not a place to escape.

One of the three men stands, towers over Jonah, and slaps him across the face.

Another stands and throws a punch.

The third stands and grabs him by the throat, pulling him to flailing feet.

Jonah fights, struggles, screams.

Gives in.

Dropped: limp, gasping, breathing.

EXT. COURTYARD - DAY

Jonah cowers in the grass, no longer bleeding, followers conferring at a compromising distance.

A faint echo of screaming.

Jonah turns and looks: a window far in the distance.

There stands a man, yelling and screaming, pushing off the hands which once tried to feed him.

Followers confer but partake in no effort.

The man wails and cries but no one bothers to pay much attention.

The man jumps. Falls. Hard on the ground. Alive. Breathing. Broken ankle.

The man begins to hobble.

Many watch but no one makes much haste.

Off to the right, not to the fields, not to the lake, but to the dark forest.

Farther and farther the man hobbles on. No one tries to stop him. The man trips, falls, doesn’t get back up again.

Followers sigh. Drag him away.

INT. CAFETERIA - DAY

Jonah chews, slowly, methodically, cautiously. No one around. No one but strangers. No one but all those who wish to do him malice.

No Nolan. No Nolan since the incident.

Jonah continues to eat cautiously.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jonah perches at the edge of a terrible bed, gawking at the sight of a tattered old blot.

The sun has set. Night has fallen.

Jonah clutches a knife and paces back and forth.

At a window few people linger.

Jonah steps to the door. Stands. Breaths. Mumbles.

Louder. Louder.

Footsteps. Knocking. An open door.

Jonah grabs. Pulls. Slams the door shut. Draws a deep cut.

The man pushes. Shoves. Tugs. The two on the ground.

The knife dropped. Kicked. Picked up again.

Push. Jab. Stab. Again and again and again.

No blood. No pain. No nothing.

The man pushes, shoves. Jonah stumbles into the bathtub.

Standing. Waiting. Breathing. The man pounces with ferocity.

Hands against hands. Head against glass. Shattered. Faces all around. Struggling. Straining. Bleeding.

Jonah grabs the man. The man grabs him. Out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, onto the bed. Choking. Choking.

Leather against skin. Steel against bone. Nothing but the man’s skull protruding from a dark catacomb.

Gagged. Slapped. Petted.

Jonah breaths heavily.

A brief moment of febrile ecstasy.

Jonah searches the room, the drawers, the bathroom. Nothing. No knife. No weapon. Only a stale piece of old chewing gum.

Jonah opens the door and closes it behind him.

INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

Mumbling. Whispering. Moaning.

Jonah stalks down a hall and another and another, stopping at the sound of harsh vicious voices.

Jonah presses to a wall and waits and waits, but not a soul follows, not a body awaits, and so Jonah escapes, down a long hall and another and another.

Dead end.

Jonah retreats.

An open door. A man strapped in, tied to a bed. Jonah continues on.

Another hall. Another door. An elevator.

Push. Press. Wait.

People approaching. Closer. Closer. No time for the elevator.

Jonah finds the stairs and takes the steps.

INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT

Down a flight. Then two. Then three. Then four. Five flights. No more. One door, no other.

Jonah pushes through. Not the basement. Not the ballroom.

INT. AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Just him and no other. Moonlight and no other.

No exit sign. No exit. Just a bunch of locked doors.

Jonah tries the windows. Locked too. Throws a chair. Loud but no use.

Hiding. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

Nothing.

Up the stairs, to the stage. Only hope. Last hope. Pushes. Pulls. The relinquish of locks.

The trap door opens.

Jonah plummets, three rungs at a time, feet splashing murky water.

INT. BASEMENT - NIGHT

Faint voices. In the distance. Far off.

Jonah draws near.

Closer. Closer. Just the other side.

Jonah hesitates.

Through the door, one man enters, then the other; Jonah amongst the shadows. Ignored.

Jonah slips out. Fresh air. Freedom.

Running. Running. Farther. Faster. Yelling. Screaming. People chasing. To the woods, to the woods. No where else. Straight ahead.

Sounds of shots. Sounds of screaming. Sounds of dozens and dozens of feet still running.

Closer. Closer. Almost there.

Into the woods.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Heavy footsteps. Heavy breathing. Exhaustion overwhelming.

Voices flail. Footsteps fail. Jonah slows. Walks. Crawls. Barely moving. Sits on a log. Freezing.

Nothing but shoes, shirt, pants, and socks. No jacket. No coat. No gloves nor mittens. Nothing but what he had. Nothing but what he has.

Can’t stop. Must keep going. Too cold to not keep moving.

Jonah stands, rubs his hands, and continues on with a weary step forward.

EXT. RIVER - NIGHT

Rushing water. Freezing ice. Jonah swaying.

A bridge. Covered. Safe. No more than a mile away.

Jonah follows the current to the dirt road.

EXT. BRIDGE - NIGHT

The meager roar of a lulling car, a babbling brook, a fearful man.

Jonah treks a steep hill, takes an old road, crosses a covered bridge.

Lights shine. Move. Brighter. Bright. Jonah in sight.

Jonah pushes to a wall but the car still stops. A door opens.

Jonah hesitates. Walks away. The car follows.

Off the road, on the dirt, to a field, across the river; running, sprinting.

The car turns, follows.

Faster, farther, still the car follows.

Looking. Searching. Anything.

Jonah trips. Falls. The car comes close. The door opens.

Jonah flails, fumbles, falls to exhaustion.

A man steps out, picks Jonah up, drags him away.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

The faint glow of morning light. The impish toll of sing song birds. The weary breath of a snoring man.

Jonah awakes to the sound of an open door.

SAM, the man from the night before, walks in with a meager bowl of vibrant fruit, sitting on the bed with a shy weary smile. Sam offers the bowl to Jonah.

Hesitantly, Jonah nods and accepts.

Sam smiles, pats Jonah on the leg, and steps away.

After some contemplative chewing, Jonah investigates the room. Window open. Door open. Closet open. Miscellaneous items. Drawers full. Curtains faded. Fields farmed.

Jonah steps to the window. A woman steps in.

Jonah jumps, slams, turns, eyes feverish with fright.

MAGGIE smiles, lays down some tattered clothing, and exits as Jonah approaches.

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Maggie sits at a table sipping at coffee, working a crossword as Sam washes chipped china.

Jonah hesitates at the precipice dressed in offered clothing.

Maggie nudges a chair. Jonah sits. Sam too.

Sam offers scalding coffee. Jonah nods. Maggie passes burnt toast. Jonah takes all three.

Maggie looks to her watch, gasps, stands, kisses, leaves.

Sam grabs the last few dishes and mumbles something agitated, staring out the window into the barren wasteland.

Footsteps. A door. Opened. Closed. Muffled snow. Jonah’s small figure in the near distance.

Sam rushes out of the house, into the field, right into Jonah, urging him back with shivering hands on shivering shoulders.

INT. STUDY - DAY

A plethora of books cascade upon a tumultuous gathering of ill fated cedar, parading higher and higher all the way up to the ceiling.

A large, and certainly unregulated fire, roars at one end, warming Jonah with a languid ferocity which only apathy can fend.

Sam enters the room with a warm cup of tea.

Jonah nods and sips. Sam dials an old phone, face turned to the piece.

After some nods and hushed words, Sam hangs up the phone, and sits in a chair, warming by the fire.

Sam lights a cigar and offers one to Jonah. Jonah nods and is offered a match.

Again and again Jonah fails to light the wicked thing. Sam offers him another to the same disappointment. With a third Sam lights the match for him and holds it quite steady. Jonah lights his cigar with a bit of contempt.

A mumbled knock. A whispered word.

Sam hops to his feet, sets down his cigar, and exits the room.

Voices mumble. Footsteps gather. Jonah grows cautious, anxious, searches for escape.

Only the door, no other exit.

Jonah steps behind the door. Footsteps draw near. Pause. Stop.

A breath. Two. Three. Jonah turns the heavy knob. Pushes the door open.

In the hall, out the door, stands Sam and an officer, frowning, nodding, listening.

Jonah closes the door. Across the room. Finds a weapon. Any weapon. The poker. The poker for the fire. That will do.

Jonah weighs it in his hand, next to the oak door, above his pulsing head. Waiting. Waiting.

The door opens. Jonah hesitates. Only Sam.

Jonah hides the poker and peruses the literature, feigning the slightest interest in honest guiltiness.

Sam smiles, walks over to the fire, frowns. Looking. Searching. Under the couch. The chairs. Near the desk. Still nothing.

Jonah, with fear in his eyes, realizes the object which Sam still craves: the poker.

Jonah, with his back to Sam, moves towards the fire. Turning, moving. Slowly. Slower.

Sam pauses, looks to Jonah. Jonah doesn’t move.

Clashing. Crashing. Metal to hardwood. Jonah stepping backward. Sam smiling. Grabbing the poker.

To kill. To kill.

Jonah backing. Tripping. Falling. To the wall. To the corner. Trapped.

Sam pokes the fire. Back in its place. The poker where it belongs.

EXT. GARDEN - DAY

A bitter sun forays its barren rays upon the feral earth of frozen disposition, Jonah and Sam walking its path through a long dead garden.

Breath shallow, breath seen, Jonah tucks his chin deep into a borrowed collar.

Sam stops. Jonah too. The two at a fountain.

On the fountain, which still runs despite the bitter weather, is a bird with a broken wing, hobbling along the edge, struggling to gather water.

Sam sighs, cradles the bird, and breaks its little neck.

Dead, the bird is thrown into a bush.

INT. DINING ROOM - DAY

Maggie and Sam feast upon a bird as Jonah picks at his food.

Sam whispers to Maggie, Maggie to Sam. Back and forth. Back and forth. Again and again.

Fed up, Maggie withdraws. Sam sighs. Jonah gawks at cold food.

Sam wipes his mouth, nods, and exits too.

Yelling. Screaming. Silver on wood. Ceramic on steel.

Crashing. Breaking. Clashing.

Maggie steps through the doors and brushes at her hair, offering feeble smiles with a long forgotten dignity, gathering plate after plate in a distracted sort of manner.

Maggie points to Jonah and Jonah nods with some pity. Maggie withdraws.

Sam enters, claws left over food, and exits too.

More screaming. More yelling. More inarticulate phrasing.

Jonah stands, pushes in his chair. Maggie returns.

Maggie gasps, a sob almost, and begins to cry uncontrollably. Jonah stands, still as can be.

Sam enters. Consoles. Pushed away.

Maggie rushes out of the room.

Sam gruffly sits in a chair and pushes another. Jonah obliges.

Sam offers a cigarette. Jonah smokes. Sam pulls heavily.

Maggie returns and slaps the cigarette out of Sam’s hand.

Sam calmly retrieves another, lights it, and throws smoke beligerently.

Maggie slaps Sam.

Stunned, Sam drops his cigarette, his pack, everything.

Maggie exits.

Calmly, Sam stands, nods, pushes in his chair, and steps away.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jonah stands before a bed, winter clothes without the man.

A note lies upon the mess. Unreadable. Nonsense. Nothing worth knowing.

Footsteps. Creaking. A door far off opened. Voices mumbling. One. Two. Maybe three. None of them his lodgers.

Closer. Closer. Stopping. Yelling. Breaking.

Footsteps. Pushing. Pulling. Locked. Tap tap tap.

Jonah clutches tattered clothing: shoes, pants, shirt, jacket. Opens the window. Out the window. Running. Running. To a barn. In the barn.

INT. BARN - NIGHT

In the hay. Hiding. Hiding.

A car drives away.

Sam enters. Maggie follows. Frowning. Pushing. Shoving. Maggie on the ground. Jonah in Sam’s hands.

Against the wall. Against the ground. Falling. Stumbling. Maggie interferes.

Jonah dresses. Sam pushes.

Through the door. Out the door. Jonah runs away.

EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

Running. Sprinting. Slowing. Stopping.

Shot. Gun shot. Head down. Belly flat. Not far away. Closer. Closer. Wheels to gravel. Jonah fumbles. Runs again.

Another shot. On his belly. Up again.

Another shot. Can’t get up. Screaming in pain.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

Jonah awakes in a foreign bed, a foreign room. A foreign knock at a foreign door.

Sam enters. Smiles. Sorry. Offers a warm cup of coffee.

Jonah flinches. Sam sighs. Sets the coffee at his side. Smiles. Pats Jonah on the thigh. Gone again soon.

Jonah tries the windows, locked. Unlock. Still locked. Locked from the outside.

Tries the door. Locked too.

Looking. Searching. Finding. A small object. An old bat. Held against the window. Swinging. Swaying. The door pushed open.

Jonah drops the bat and leaps into bed.

Maggie smiles, sits next to Jonah. Looks him in the eye. Kisses him. Harder. Harder.

The two on the bed. Moving. Groaning. A key in a hole. Maggie stands, fixes her dress. Sam enters.

Jonah dares not move. Dazed, Confused.

Sam retrieves forgotten coffee.

Maggie composes herself, smiles at Jonah, and exits too.

Jonah follows. The door still open.

EXT. KITCHEN - DAY

Maggie sips coffee. Sam offers toast. Jonah hesitates, obliges.

Maggie finds the time, jumps to cold feet.

Sam kisses her goodbye, grabs some old dishes, and begins to organize. Washing. Washing. One dish after another.

Jonah stands. Grabs a pan. Weighs it in his hand. Deep breath.

An open door. A dropped pan. Maggie comes rushing back in. Sam quick to turn.

Jonah fumbles on the ground, reaching for the pan. Sam bends down. Maggie grabs her missing item.

Sam picks up the pan, offers a hand. Jonah stands. Maggie exits.

INT. TRUCK - DAY

Jonah and Sam sit in contemplation, Sam driving, Jonah tapping, again and again and again.

Doors locked, the car speeds along steadily. Stops.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

Sam steps out of the car and into the field. Approaches the engine. Opens the hood.

Smoke.

Sam opens the door and Jonah steps out too. Sam mumbles. Jonah assesses.

Sam steps back to the car. Tries to start. Won’t start.

Jonah surveys the engulfing wilderness. Cold. Barren. Wild. Still the car won’t start.

A car draws near. Closer. Closer. Blue. Police. Cops. Pigs.

The car stops. The officer steps out. To the car. To Sam. The two confer.

Pointing. Mumbling. Whispering. Nodding.

The officer approaches. Closer. Closer.

Reaching. Grabbing. Pulling. Pressing.

Cigarettes.

One to Jonah. One to Sam. One for himself. The three smoke.

The officer peeks under the hood. Sam attempts revitalization. Still nothing.

Sam steps out of the car and speaks to the officer. The two nod. Walk. Leave.

To the police car. To the front seat.

The car starts. The back door opens. Jonah hesitates. Sam steps out. Pushes. Closes. Jonah trapped behind cold bars.

INT. POLICE STATION - DAY

Jonah sits on a bench. Sam stands on a step. Speaking, whispering. A man across the glass, scribbling, mumbling, laughing.

The man walks away. Sam follows.

Sitting. Tapping. Waiting.

Light. New light. Bright light. Different than the facade. Real, bright, white light.

Jonah looks around him. No one watching. Stands. Steps towards the light. Out of the darkness. Into the hall.

INT. HALL - DAY

Alone. Muffling. Shuffling.

Voices in the distance. Door at one end. Sign above the door. Strange characters. Glowing neon.

Jonah steps towards the door. Closer. Closer. The sound of Sam. The sound of confusion. The sound of rushed footsteps.

Jonah steps through the door.

EXT. SIDEWALK - DAY

People.

Walking. Laughing. Bustling. Shuffling.

Voices behind. Chasing. Running. Must get away.

Into the crowd. Into the city. Further. Farther.

People crowd. Closer. Closer. Claustrophobic. Can’t get away. Grabbing. Pulling. Falling. Drowning.

Off in the distance. Alley. Safety. Get up. Get up.

Jonah to his feet. Pushing. Shoving. Close. So close.

EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT

Alone. All alone. Jonah and no other.

Just him and the trash cans. Garbage and garbage.

The click of a gun. A mumbling voice. Jonah turns to despair.

A robber. A murderer. A marauder. Pointing. Gesturing. Threatening.

Jonah backs away. The killer steps closer. Jonah concedes.

First the jacket, then the gloves. Then the boots. Then the socks.

The escape artist escapes.

Jonah is left alone. Shivering. Freezing. Huddled against garbage.

More voices. More footsteps. The robber probably back with his gang.

Into the darkness. Among darkness. Must not be seen.

Closer. Closer. So close he can touch him. The man grabs Jonah by the shoulder.

Jonah shudders. Grabs. Pulls. Into the shadows. Into the darkness. Into the night.

The dropping of a gun.

Grunting. Yelling. Screaming. Crying.

Jonah bathed in harsh light. Soaked in a shallow puddle.

Seizing. Seizing.

Nothing. No movement. None.

The man steps out. Into the light. Dressed in all blue. A police officer no less.

Bleeding.

The officer pulls Jonah away.

INT. HOSPITAL - DAY

Light. Bright. White. Luminescent. Burning. Blinding. Nothing but white.

Jonah awakes in a bed of his own making.

A nurse approaches, gathers. Pen, paper, chart. Scribbles, mumbles, replaces. Scurries away.

Jonah claws at the chart: unreadable gibberish.

A knock at the door. A chart returned. Sam enters, Maggie too.

Heads down, eyes morose. Maggie configures a vase of tepid flowers.

Sam sits beside.

Maggie fusses with the flowers. Paces. Looks out the window. A doctor. His doctor. Maggie escapes.

Sam takes Jonah by the hand, smiles with regretful misery. Jonah looks away.

Sam steps to the window.

EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY

Amongst cars and pavement, Maggie yells at a doctor. The doctor gestures apologetically, explaining. Maggie pushes, shoves.

Security is called.

INT. HOSPITAL - DAY

Sam sighs. Grabs an old chart. Sits. Reads.

A guard steps in, whispers to Sam. Sam nods, stands, sets down the chart, leaves again.

Yelling. Crashing. Jonah stands. To the window. Out the window.

EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY

Sam pushes. Maggie shoves. More doctors. More guards. Falling. Hitting. Pushing. Handcuffs.

Sam is taken away. Maggie too.

INT. HOSPITAL - NIGHT

Jonah still at the window. Jonah still irreverently aghast.

A nurse enters. Ticks. Pushes. Pulls. Jonah won’t budge.

The nurse huffs. Exits. Two men enter. Two more nurses. The four for Jonah.

Jonah opens the window.

Men leap. Jonah jumps. Too slow.

The window slams shut.

Jonah on the bed. Thrown. Tied. Needle. Shot. Sharp object. Breathing slowed. Nurses exit.

Jonah is left alone. Almost. Almost. Sleeping.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Dirt flailing. Rocks flying. Dark bitter ground breaking. Shoving. Shoveling. Piece by piece. Bit by bit. Deeper. Deeper. Bigger. Bigger. Feet dragging. A loud thud.

INT. HOSPITAL - DAY

Lucy sits staring at a Jonah still sleeping. Slowly, Jonah gains consciousness and jumps at her breathing, inches away from his face and hers.

Untied. Free. The little girl smiling.

Jonah searches the room. Lucy shakes her head. Points to the window. The lot.

EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY

Virginia searches through her car with the door still ajar.

INT. HOSPITAL - DAY

Jonah throws open the window. Looks across. Down. No way out.

To the door. Pulls. Pushes. Unlocked.

Lucy follows.

INT. HALL - DAY

Looks left. Looks right. No sign of anybody. Empty hallway.

Jonah walks. Faster. Faster.

Lucy follows.

To an elevator. Pressing. Pushing. Waiting. Footsteps.

Doors open.

INT. ELEVATOR - DAY

Through the doors. In the room. Asessing odd characters.

Lucy smiles. Presses a button. The elevator moves. Down. Down. Jonah watches the strange characters.

A ding. A ring. The doors open. Jonah pauses. Lucy grabs him. Pulls.

Jonah follows.

INT. LOBBY - DAY

Rushing. Mumbling. Doctors of all rank and seniority.

Admin. Nurses. Janitors. All moving in sporadic fashion.

Lucy pulls. To a door. To freedom.

Turns. Two doors. Grinding sounds. Screaming. Terrible, awful screeching. Lucy points.

Jonah shakes his head. Freezes. Lucy nods. Pulls his hand.

A man exits, out the door, past the two, nodding politely, smiling. Walks away. To some doctors. Guards. Authority.

Whispering. Pointing. Gesturing. At Jonah. To Lucy, Lucy still pulling.

Closer. Closer. The guards step. Authority gains. Lucy pulls. Jonah concedes.

Through the doors. To the horror.

INT. BATHROOM - DAY

Lucy jumps. Dances. Points to a stall.

Jonah nods. Lucy runs. Jonah guards.

A few moments pass by. Lucy hums. A slam on the door. A push. A shove. Jonah pushes with all his mite.

Smiling. Skipping. Giggling. Lucy exits. To the sink. People still pushing.

Lucy washes her hands.

Jonah waves her near. Lucy skips to Jonah. To the door. Jonah holds up three fingers. Two. One.

Jonah pulls the door open and a guard falls in.

The two rush out.

INT. LOBBY - DAY

Jonah pulls. Faster. Faster. Through the lobby. To the doors.

People watching. People staring. Guards preparing.

The two push through barred doors.

EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY

Lucy sprints to her mother, Virginia still at her car.

Virginia turns at Lucy’s touch. Startled. Scared. Looks to Jonah.

Jonah runs away.

Farther. Farther. Away from the hospital. Away from the guards. Away from Virginia. Away from Lucy. Away from all sanity. Away from all safety. Away from anything and everything which might induce charity.

EXT. HOUSE - DAY

Bitter wind blows cold on an aching body, feet slowing at the sight of morbid attrition.

An old home, one story, few windows, no lights, no occupants. Jonah approaches the front door. Knocks. Steps back. Hides. No answer.

Jonah tries the door, locked. Jonah looks into the house. Furniture. No people. A back door. Possibly unlocked.

Jonah stalks through the yard, approaches the forgotten entry. Locked.

Jonah searches for a weapon. A stick: too light. A shovel: too flimsy. A wrench: perfect.

Jonah weighs the small object, swings a few times. About to make contact. Stops. An unforeseen sight.

An open window. Just a crack.

Jonah drops the wrench. Approaches the window. Opens. Steps in.

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Through the window. To the sink. On the counter.

Dishes crashing. Breaking. Clashing.

Jonah winces. Waits. No reaction.

Jonah climbs down. Tries the lights. No electricity. A faint sound. Echoing.

Jonah grabs a knife and paces towards the mumbling.

Closer. Closer. Chopin. A missed note. Two. Repeated melody. Again.

The door ajar. Looks in. Nothing. Deep breath. Jonah throws the door open.

INT. NURSERY - DAY

A gramophone. A record player. A record. Skipping. Skipping. Jonah looks around him.

Jonah steps across the room, to the closet. No one. Nothing. Nothing but baby’s clothing.

The door sways. Jonah jumps. Just the wind.

Jonah pulls the needle and stops the record.

A slamming door.

A baby. A child. A man. Stomping. Running. Screaming. Laughing.

Jonah freezes as tiny feet scamper.

Jonah edges to the door. Peeks out.

A young boy, 4, plays with a toy airplane, running up and down the small hallway.

A crass curse. A mumbling man. The baby crying. The boy running.

Jonah edges out, down the hall, away from the ruckus.

To a door. To another. Another. Unlocked. Jonah steps in.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

Masculinity oozes from putrid walls. Wood reeks with grimy decay. Jonah stands amongst well organized misery.

Jonah opens a drawer. Another. Another. Changes quickly.

Jonah stuffs old clothes into a limp hamper, new clothes onto a stiff body.

Heavy footsteps. Approaching. Closer. Closer.

Jonah leaps to the window. Opens the window. The doorknob turns.

A man steps in.

EXT. HOUSE - DAY

Jonah crouches, attempts to stay hidden: under the window.

The man closes the window.

Jonah sighs, relaxes, drops his weapon.

EXT. FIELD - DAY

Jonah crosses a field, near a dirt road, falling to his stomach with each sound of the world.

A farm draws near.

EXT. FARM - DAY

Jonah approaches a coop, a coop of many chickens, on his hands, on his knees, studying the pattern of the clucking victims.

Jonah scans the expanse. Nothing. No one.

Jonah jumps the fence and grabs a chicken, running away to a barn in the distance.

INT. BARN - DAY

Cold. Drafty. Empty. Jonah sets down the chicken.

The chicken clucks. Waddles.

Jonah gathers. Rocks, hay, a small fire for warmth.

Jonah grabs the chicken, pets it, sets it. Deep breath.

Jonah cuts off its head.

Blood spills in slow bursts across Jonah’s hand.

Time inevitably passes.

INT. BARN - NIGHT

Jonah picks at the last of his scorched dead bird, warming by the heat of a slow tepid flame. The ruffle of slurred phrases.

Jonah buries the fire and jumps into a pen.

Two drunken men fumble in, laughing.

One trips. Hands in hot coals. Screaming. The other laughing even harder.

The burned man climbs to his feet, staring at his hands as if that of another. Studies. Pours. Whiskey trickling over the wound.

The other man grabs at the bottle and takes a good swig.

A horrid cough: Jonah.

The two men look to the pen. One nods to the other. The one without the burned hand pulls out a gun: a revolver.

Slowly, surely, the man nears. The door opens. Darkness. Nothing. The man steps in.

Jonah tackles the man and pushes the gun away.

The two wrestle furiously. First one on top, then the other.

The gun slides towards the burned man.

The burned man draws the gun, shaking, his good hand ruined.

Cock. Fire. Miss.

Cock. Fire. Miss.

Cock. Fire. Hit.

The other man screams. Jonah charges. Tackles. The two on the ground. He and the burned man.

The other man hobbles, kicks the burned man away, cocks the dropped gun.

Jonah stops. Trapped.

Sirens. Lights. Screeching.

The man gestures towards closed doors.

Jonah concedes, arms raised in brutal misery.

EXT. FARM - NIGHT

Sirens flail. Lights fail. An officer leans against a worn old vehicle.

Jonah walks slowly, assuredly, across the street, to the officer, hands behind his head.

The officer opens the rear door.

Jonah steps in.

INT. HOLDING CELL - NIGHT

Jonah sits abandoned, alone, shivering.

Footsteps. Two sets. One rigid. One limping. An officer and his hostage: a burly black man.

The officer throws the man against the bars, into the bars, through the bars. The burly man lies on the ground, gasping.

The officer exits. The man doesn’t move.

Jonah approaches the man, turns the man, moves the man. The man on his back.

Ear to mouth. Long, slow whimpers. Breathing, but haggard.

Jonah sits. Waits.

A quick breath. A long pull. The burly man sits. Stands. Goes to the gates. Yells. Screams. Shakes.

No response.

The man kicks, hits, falls to a sit, pulls out a pack, offers a cigarette. Jonah nods, concedes, accepts.

The burly man searches his pockets, curses, shakes the rusted gates.

Louder. Louder. Longer. Longer. An officer finally enters, furious at their childishness.

The burly man offers a nail. The officer sighs, obliges, lights it, lights another, and flicks the used match away.

The burly man turns to Jonah and offers his assistance. Jonah nods, stands, lights his own; the three against the bars, smoking.

A slamming door. An authoritative step. The officer buries his cigarette with a heavy stomp.

A figure of some authority enters the hall and slaps the officer across his decrepit face.

The officer holds his burdened eyes heavy.

The authoritarian glares at Jonah and his vicious conspirator. Jonah goes to abolish his vengeful burden but is stopped by his companion.

The authoritative figure, a lieutenant, grabs the other’s keys and struggles with the lock. The officer offers feeble help.

Finding the match, the lieutenant pulls out the man and throws him against the wall.

The burly man blows smoke into the lieutenant’s face. The lieutenant throws him to the ground. Kicking. Kicking. The officer stagnant in horror.

The burly man coughs air, mucus, blood. The lieutenant stops, mumbles, exits.

The officer opens the door, pulls the man in, and locks the door behind him.

Jonah approaches the man, looks him in the eye. Searching for consciousness. The burly man seizes.

Jonah slams against the bars. Yelling. Screaming. No response. Still the man seizes.

Louder. Louder. Slamming the locks. The burly man stops.

Jonah turns to the man, crouching, listening. Nothing. No breath. No sign of life.

Jonah crawls to a corner, blood of the other drawing ever nearer.

INT. HOLDING CELL - DAY

Jonah sits alone, the burly man confiscated, the early sun exasperated.

A lone officer opens the rusted gates. Jonah crawls back even further.

The officer waves. Jonah refuses.

The officer sighs, steps in, grabs Jonah by the arm, and gruffly pulls him away.

EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY

Pushed, shoved, out the door, to the ground, in the dirt.

Jonah stands without pride.

A car door opens. Sam steps out.

Jonah obliges.

INT. CAR - DAY

The radio mumbles with an aching pride, pulsating dull pop tunes and forgotten folk rhymes. Maggie changes the channel before it can end, always awaiting the song that will never begin.

Maggie attempts another diversion but is hindered by a hand. Maggie pulls back with disdain, shifts her body away, and rolls down a cracked window pane.

Sam sighs.

The car rolls to a stop, a truck abandoned just across the way.

Sam steps out. Maggie steps out. Jonah doesn’t move.

Maggie climbs back in, looks back to Jonah, and taps on the abandoned cushion recently occupied.

Jonah nods and steps out and back in.

Sam botches the truck, opens the hood, closes the hood, and starts the old thing.

Sam drives away. Maggie and Jonah don’t do the same.

A tense moment passes. Breath relaxes. Maggie starts the car and makes a u-turn, away from Sam, away from home. Jonah looks back, confused.

The two drive on. Further and farther and longer still. Going and going and still not stopping.

EXT. GAS STATION - DAY

Maggie steps out of the car and into the station.

From the car Jonah exacerbates vain interest, Maggie lingering along with docile misery.

To the register, on the counter: miscellaneous items.

The employee mumbles, grumbles, and evaluates the quirky hodgepodge.

Maggie pulls out a gun.

The man feigns interest. Maggie waves the gun. Still the man offers nothing but apathy.

Maggie cocks the gun, nothing but serious.

The man sighs, bites the gun, pulls the trigger, and falls down dead, shot down by his own hand.

Maggie steps out of the station with a few measly items.

Jonah gawks, horrified.

Maggie smiles, riles, defiles all sense of misery, and pulls out of the lot with not even a sense of wrongdoing.

EXT. DRIVEWAY - DAY

Slowing, lulling, cooing, the car seizes to a halt, Maggie finally defeated by bitter tears of sorrow.

Jonah placates ambiguously with awkward anticipation, awaiting the end of this uncomfortable situation.

Maggie’s tears grow heavy with the burden of hatred.

Seeing no end, Jonah steps out of the car and into the house, abandoning the crazy Sam vainly attempts to rangle.

Maggie yells and screams through locked doors and windows, Sam attempting alleviation with deplorable deficiencies.

No avail.

The two bicker some more.

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Jonah sits at a table sipping at coffee, watching the couple go at it in fury.

Maggie revs the stalled engine and peels away in a hurry, Sam abandoned on the decrepit old graveled driveway.

Sam wallows back with a morose look of worry.

Jonah offers a chair but Sam shakes his head solemnly.

Sam begins to sob as Jonah sips at his coffee.

Sam hyperventilates. Breaths. Goes steady. Dials an old telephone. Waits. Mumbles. Hangs up with misery.

A knock at the door. Sam to the latch. A queer man in a ruffled jacket on the other side of the world.

The man nods, shakes, and sits next to Jonah, Sam next to him.

The ruffled man mumbles. Sam moves away again.

The man looks to Jonah, his eyes, his soul. Jonah looks away.

The ruffled man nods and retrieves some old papers.

The ruffled man offers some photos, photos of strangers. Photos at the zoo. Photos at the park. Photos of people Jonah’s never met before.

Jonah looks back to the man, hopelessly confused.

The man mumbles, nods, scribbles something new. Shuffles some papers, discards some others.

The ruffled man stands, shakes Jonah’s hand, and exits anew.

Heavy footsteps. Two burly men. Closer. Closer.

Jonah clenches his coffee as the men clench him.

Hot coffee on scalding skin. Boiling. Burning.

One backs away as another pounces furiously. Jonah squirms. Past the men, out the door, to the ruffled man who stands quietly smoking.

Jonah pauses, just for an instant.

Tackled. Pinned down. Confiscated.

INT. VAN - DAY

Jonah sits dwarfed by two men, the ragged man driving and smoking and mumbling.

One of the two rifles through his pockets, pulls out a pack, and offers a nail. A match too. First to the other, then to Jonah. Both oblige; all three smoke.

Smoke lingers in the dimly lit van.

A sharp turn.

Jonah presses his cigarette deep into the leg of the man on his right, grabs the man’s cigarette, and presses that cigarette into the face of the man on his left.

Jonah hops to his feet, slams the back door, and jumps out of the van onto rubbled concrete.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

The van grinds to a halt as Jonah tumbles down the street.

Standing, limping, Jonah goes running.

A car draws near. Closer. Closer. Straight for Jonah.

Wheels screech. Brakes slam. The driver stares at the strange disheveled man.

The driver steps out of the car and into the street, obliging Jonah with an opportunity he can’t impede: theft and escape all wrapped up in a deus ex-machina.

EXT. PARKING GARAGE - DAY

Jonah slows to a stop and steps out of the car. Walking. Limping. Stumbling. Sprained ankle.

Into the city. Into the street. A couple of shops along main street.

Jonah limps into a convenience shop.

INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY

Duct tape. Cane. Candy.

No money. Not a cent.

To the door. Quickly. Quickly. A man yelling. Jonah walking. Head down. Feet limping.

Out the glass door.

EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY

Jonah limps. A haggard man follows. Yells. Grabs. Misses.

Jonah moves faster, farther. The man gives in. Gives up.

Jonah limps away.

INT. BAR - DAY

Jonah limps into a bar hardly lit and nearly empty.

The bar tender jabs a pudgy thumb into the acrid air with weary recognition, the thumb falling behind him towards a ragged hallway.

Two doors. Strange symbols. Open. Close.

INT. BATHROOM - DAY

Jonah sits on the toilet and takes off his shoe, sock too. Broken ankle. Jonah grabs a towel, bites hard, sets his foot, and wraps it in duct tape.

Jonah limps to the sink.

Sweating, Jonah washes his face and looks into the mirror.

A rotted face glares.

Pushing. Rushing. Pulling.

The door finally opens.

INT. BAR - DAY

Stumbling, limping, Jonah goes fumbling.

The bartender chuckles.

Jonah falls into an empty stool.

The bartender pours. Jonah shakes, points to empty pockets.

The bartender pours. Two shots. Takes one. Pushes the other.

Jonah obliges. Drinks. Winces.

The bartender offers another. And another. And another.

Hazy. Fading. Falling. To the ground punch-drunk.

The bartender drags him away.

INT. ROOM - DAY

Jonah lies on a bed, hardly awake, slobbering, wasted. The bartender mixes a putrid concoction.

Jonah sits, vehemently nauseous. The bar tender hands him a hazy titration. Jonah gags with distaste. The man forces the liquid down Jonah’s throat.

Jonah gags. Breaths. Deep breath. Lays back. Stopped. Pushed. Must sit up.

Jonah nods.

A small bed. An old tv. Kitchen supplies. Clothes. Two rooms. Bedroom and bathroom.

The bartender sits in an absurdly large recliner, the only other furniture in the filthy old room.

A knock at the door. Harder. Harder. Straggling keys. The door furiously opens: a short stubby man.

The bar tender smiles at the red faced angry little man who throws anything and everything anyway he can.

Through drawers, cabinets, cushions, the little man searches with vehemence

Nothing.

The angry man glares at the apathetic man. The bartender shrugs. The angry little man moves to Jonah, grabs him by the collar, and shakes him silly.

Jonah, still weak, still queasy, goes limp. The angry man growls, throws Jonah to the ground, and stomps out.

Jonah climbs to his feet. The bartender shrugs.

Jonah steps to the window covered in snow.

Nothing but a few friendly faces bustling in cold winter weather shuffling from one store to another and another.

A stranger. His stranger. A stranger he’s seen before. Where? Where? The photo album. The pictures. The ruffled man and his pictures.

Jonah rushes; out the door, down the stairs, and to the open air.

EXT. SIDEWALK - DAY

Looking. Searching. Finding.

The stranger and her stranger and their daughter.

Following. Pursuing. Stalking.

The mother looks back. Grows startled. Moves faster.

Closer. Closer. Almost there.

The father drops a heavy hand on Jonah’s aching shoulder.

The mother draws away, pulling at her daughter.

Jonah tries to break free but the father’s grip tightens. Jonah attempts insurrection but hope is soon abandoned.

Jonah thwarts a lame attempt only to be thrown again with fury.

Jonah lies on the ground awaiting further cruelty.

The father concedes and staggers off in a hurry.

Jonah wobbles to his feet and follows despite everything.

The three reach their car and drive away furtively.

Jonah rushes into a local convenience shop.

INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY

Pen, paper. Ripping. Tearing. Writing: letters, numbers, symbols.

EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY

Jonah stares at the paper which he holds in his hand, looking back at the station again and again.

Deep breath. Up the steps. To the door.

INT. POLICE STATION - DAY

Jonah stands at a counter where a woman still mumbles, patiently awaiting the end of some gossip.

Gossip divulged, the woman hangs up the phone and slides over to Jonah.

Jonah pushes the paper across the filthy counter. The woman looks to the paper and admits misunderstanding. Jonah points to the numbers and ill scribbled letters.

The woman nods, dials a number, points to a bench, and hands back the paper.

Jonah sits on the bench in false gaudy boredom.

An officer approaches and sits next to Jonah.

Jonah offers the crumpled folded numbers and letters.

The officer smiles, nods, assesses. A moment of inspiration.

The officer stands, walks away, leaves again.

The father and his family: mother and daughter. The family from before. The strangers standing with bore.

The officer returns, greets each and everyone of them; leads them to an incredibly messy office.

Muffled voices lull as Jonah fails to distinguish one voice from another.

The officer acknowledges Jonah. The father turns, grows agitated. The officer calms him with a steady hand. Insists he sit again. The father concedes.

The officer hands over some papers. The father shuffles, mumbles, signs.

The family withdraws from the premises.

The officer waves Jonah in.

INT. OFFICE - DAY

Jonah sits amongst mountains, mountains of papers, himself in a valley, the officer studying a few of the many.

The officer looks up, smiles, sighs. Dials an old telephone. Mumbles. Hangs up.

A knock on the door. A young officer enters.

The officer waves to the younger. The younger steps nearer. The older whispers. The younger nods, salutes, opens the door, waves Jonah along.

Jonah obliges.

EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY

Jonah follows the officer out the door and to a car, the young woman nodding to an empty pedestrian car.

Regarding his options, Jonah obliges.

EXT. SUBURB - DAY

House after house pass by with monotonous familiarity, each desperately exuding a facade of pathetic differentiation.

Slowly, surely, the car rolls to a stop. The officer exits. Jonah follows.

Up to a house. Up to a door. Knocking. Ringing. Footsteps. Answer.

A man of maybe thirty. Frowning. Smiling. Motioning the two in.

The two follow.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Jonah sits on a couch next to the officer, twitching in regard to his dutiful captor.

The young man sways with three cups of tea, offering one to each of the three.

The officer nods and leans toward the man, whispering rubbish into his ear. The man nods, smiles, and points to a hall.

The officer follows along the pointed out path.

The two left sitting sip tea erroneously, neither acknowledging the other labouriously.

The man, as if struck by inspiration, jumps, hops, leaps; a gramophone within his meager reach. Tapping on a record, another, another, the man withdraws a heavy disk, sets it upon a haggard old turnstile, and releases the needle with the delicacy of a clockmaker.

Withdrawing an old album, an album of photos, the man sits next to Jonah.

The officer smiles as she enters and steps towards the man, whispering incoherent gibberish nonsense. The man nods, stands, and walks back to the yard, two smokes in hand.

Jonah watches through a window as the two smoke laboriously, huffing as if it’s a chore, blowing as if it’s their duty.

Smoke grows weary as nails grow thin. The officer extinguishes her pale cigarette.

The two smile, shake hands. The officer exits out a back gate.

The young man, STEPHEN, closes the back door and soon sits again, the gramophone still singing far off in wonderland.

An open door. Tiny footsteps. Pattering. Lucy full of joy. Virginia just behind, kissing her husband while trying hard not to cry.

Lucy sits next to Jonah as close as she can, Virginia and Stephen across from their daughter and him.

Virginia dabs at her eyes and blows at her nose. Lucy smiles. Stephen comforts.

The gramophone scratches. Repeats. Scratches again. Jonah stands. The couple stands. Lucy stands.

Jonah steps to the gramophone. Lifts the needle. Lifts the record. Begins to quiver. Drops the record. A thousand pieces.

Stephen gasps. Jonah gawks.

To the ground picking up pieces.

Stephen agitated. Red faced. Miserable.

Jonah gathers the rubble and offers the pieces.

Stephen closes his hands over Jonah’s misery, sighing with aggravation, leaving without condemning.

Jonah offers the pieces but Virginia won’t take them.

Jonah offers them to Lucy.

Virginia lunges, pushes, slaps, pieces scattered across the hardwood floor.

Jonah bleeds. Virginia escapes. Lucy pulls, studying the bloody foray.

Virginia sprints back with gauze and swats Lucy away, wraps bleeding hands, looks into his eyes, and passes a pill into his bloody palm.

Jonah swallows. Grows dizzy. Groggy. Sleepy.

INT. STAIRCASE - NIGHT

Jonah moans with the motion of dragging harried feet, the bothersome burden of pulling heavy limbs.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jonah awakes with a start and a jump and a scare, boggled by the figure which toys with a bear.

Jonah edges very near before easing with courage.

Stephen offers the bear and Jonah inadvertently obliges, manipulating the bear as he contemplates his enviorment.

Stephen sighs, stands, and steps towards the window.

Lucy swings on a set with all her little might.

Stephen takes out his wallet and throws a few twenties.

Jonah looks to Stephen. Stephen nods to the window. Jonah points. Stephen nods.

Jonah palms the money, approaches the window, and opens the pane. About to climb out.

Stephen grabs him by the arm. Nods to the door. Jonah nods.

Out the door. Out another. In the yard.

EXT. HOUSE - NIGHT

Limping, broken, bandaged, Jonah lurches across the field with a terrible destitution.

Lucy slows, stops, off the swing, to the man. Hugging. Loving.

Jonah relinquishes her grip.

Spectral shadows loom in the dark dank atmosphere, illuminating daggers which penetrate the night. Gravel crackles and grumbles and whips out of sight, a car forced to a halt by some unforeseen fright.

The engine stalls and rumbles and a woman steps out.

Following, pursuing, gaining. Running. Running. Blocking Jonah’s way.

Virginia breaths heavy and looks him in the eye, glaring with contempt at the febrile attempt.

Jonah looks away.

Virginia slaps him across the face.

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

Out of the cold. Out of the dark. Jonah in one hand. Lucy in the other.

Into the warmth. Into the light. Into the kitchen. Into a chair.

Virginia gone. Back again with blankets. Gone again. Up the stairs. Yelling. Screaming. Throwing.

Stephen down the stairs, out the door, in a car driving far away.

Virginia masks a weary sob with a weak pseudo smile, sitting at the table with two cups of sorrow.

Lucy rubs at her eyes and Virginia condoles, locks the doors, and leads Lucy to unconsciousness.

Jonah sits alone for some time.

Virginia’s light footsteps. Down the stairs, through the kitchen, to the chair just beside Jonah. Grabs his hands. Studies: the terrible scars from his recent catastrophe.

Virginia jumps to her feet. Out of the kitchen, into the living room. Pushing, shoving. The gramophone, into the kitchen.

Virgina spins a record, offers a hand. Jonah stands.

The two sway to the rhythm of the beat.

The door opens. Stephen huffs, grabs his wallet, exits again.

Virginia pulls away. Sighs. Sobs.

Jonah offers his condolonces.

A prolonged hug.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

Jonah sits at the edge of a long narrow bed, staring at the dagger which lays before him. On the dresser, in his hands, the same as before, the same as always.

Heavy footsteps. A slamming door. Tripping. Bumping. Crashing.

Slurred words. Light footsteps. Lucy’s shrill scream of ecstasy. Stephen’s mumbling gibberish.

More footsteps. More solemn. Slower. Hushed words. Up the stairs. Down the hall. A closed door. Rushed whispers.

Jonah opens his door, slowly, carefully, just a crack. At the door, smiling, staring, is Lucy.

Jonah jumps back in fright.

Lucy steps into the room and onto the bed, jumping up and down again and again.

Jonah turns to the girl with questionable awe, realizing the knife is no longer in his palm. Lucy, somehow, someway, has stolen the knife.

Jonah slams the door shut and rushes towards the knife. Lucy runs and screams, laughing with delight. Jonah fails to halt the fleeing child.

A knock at the door. Lucy stops. Jonah stops. Virginia enters, red eyed. An open palm.

Lucy frowns. Hands over the knife. Sulks out of the room.

Virginia steadies the knife. Steps close. Closer. Closer.

Jonah backs away. To the window. Open window.

Virginia grabs him by the hand. Sets down the knife. Hugs. Walks away.

Jonah is left alone, door closed.

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Stephen butters toast as Lucy crunches cereal, Virginia pouring coffee before joining the duo. Jonah sits too, eating nothing and drinking little.

No one looks to any other, all eyes upon the vast expanse of desperation which expands infinitely beyond the bleak horizon.

The phone rings. Stephen answers, nods, hands it to Virginia.

Virginia moves to a drawer, grabs a pen, pencil, paper. Scribbles something down.

Stephen downs his coffee, some pills, kisses his daughter, tries for his wife. Virginia resists. Stephen leaves with an agitated sigh.

Lucy grabs her backpack, her lunch bag, out the back door, through a backyard, through another, and another and another. Far in the distance a bus patiently waits.

Virginia gathers her belongings and stands in the doorway.

Jonah finishes his coffee and follows along.

EXT. HOUSE - DAY

Jonah stops at a car across from Virginia.

Virginia steps into the vehicle and starts the old thing. Jonah doesn’t move. Virginia opens the door but still Jonah refuses.

Virginia sighs, steps out, and over to Jonah. Attempts to guide him in.

Jonah resists.

Virginia pushes. Shoves. Grabs him by the hand. A yelp of pain. Virginia backs away. Jonah cradles his hand.

Virginia retreats back into the vehicle, eyes tinged with bitter tears of reluctant defeat.

Jonah gives in. Cautious. Wary.

EXT. BUILDING - DAY

The car slows as it nears a wide white building, dozens of rooms, a courtyard, a field, a lake, a forest. Men and women follow another, two stalking one, closer, closer.

Recognition. Fear. Back. Back to the prison. Back to the torture. Back to where escape will never be over.

Jonah tries the door. Locked. Again. Again. The door won’t open.

The car stops. Virginia steps out.

Jonah alone. Pushing. Shoving. Still the door won’t open. Can’t open.

Slamming. Yelling. Screaming. Pleading.

Virginia appears with a man and a woman.

Jonah clenches the car lighter. Heating. Waiting. The three at the door. The door opened.

Jonah swipes the pathetic weapon. Stopped. Barred. Confiscated in a hurry.

INT. ROOM - DAY

A windowless room shines bright with artificial light, Jonah alone with no one in sight.

A woman enters, all in white, clipboard in hand, smiling with delight. The woman sits on a stool, grabs his hands, studies, scribbles, exits.

Another woman enters, studies her clipboard, scribbles something down, rips off the paper, and hands it to Jonah.

On the paper is the single word run.

Jonah looks to the woman but the woman is gone.

Virginia enters. Smiles. Points to the paper. Jonah guards it with fervor. Virginia sighs.

To the door, the open door, Jonah rushes out.

Down a hall, to an elevator. Pushing. Pressing. People chasing.

Down the stairs. Another floor, another hall. A door to the outside world. Closer. Closer. Almost there. Out the door.

EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY

Jonah stands in a lot surrounded by cars as people enter and exit through a door on his right.

Virginia opens her door, a passenger door, the door to her car, stalling in front.

Jonah hesitates, steps in.

INT. CAR - DAY

Jonah plays with the radio as Virginia drives on, changing the channel every now and again.

Virginia slows to a stop in front of a church.

EXT. CHURCH - DAY

Virginia exits. Jonah follows. Past the church and to a yard. A yard of dug up dirt and newly dug graves.

Virginia stops. Jonah stops. All the stones with nonsensical phrases.

Virginia sits next to a grave, a headstone. Jonah mimics her movements.

From her purse Virginia retrieves two sandwiches, one for her and one for him. The two eat quietly next to each other.

An elderly man with a shovel shuffles by, waves to Virginia, smiles, and begins to dig, two graves away.

Virginia stands, Jonah stands, to the grave digger, Jonah follows.

The grave digger stops, shakes her hand, shakes his, offers a hug, whispers something trite, and goes back to his job.

EXT. HOUSE - DAY

Jonah drags weary feet against brittle ground, swaying and swinging in slowly dying light.

Brakes press. Kids scream. Lucy comes running in.

Lucy greets her mother, drops her bag, and heads outside, sitting on the swing just next to him.

Lucy swings. Higher. Higher. Laughter. Screams. Too high. Falling. Falling. On the ground. Crying.

Virginia rushes. Jonah watches. Blood gushing from the little girl’s body.

Virginia holds Lucy close, rushes her inside. Virginia on the phone, Lucy with a towel. Once white, now red. Darker. Darker. Crimson. Virginia hangs up, rushes to the car. Pushes Lucy in. Drives off.

A white van pulls off the road. Down the drive. Closer. Closer. The ruffled man and his two men. To catch. To kill.

Jonah to his feet. To the kitchen.

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Drawer after drawer. Again and again. No weapon of any kind.

Final drawer. Final prayer. Deep breath. Knives. Dozens and dozens of knives. Jonah grabs the biggest. The sharpest.

By the door. Behind the door. Waiting. Waiting.

The door opens. Jonah jumps. Misses. Falls. On the floor. Wrestled. Strangled. Knife knocked away.

Jonah squirms. Gasps. Chokes.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jonah awakes in a bed: terrified, miserable.

The moonlight’s hollow shadow.

Jonah curls his feet near, retracting smaller and smaller, as small as can be.

Light lingers. Doors close. Footsteps on gravel. Voices below. Whispering. Pitter patter. A knock at his door.

Lucy enters. Sits on the bed.

Whispers persist.

Lucy begins to cry. Jonah attempts to soothe, lessen the pain. Lucy sobs even harder.

Jonah hugs. Lucy hyperventilates. Virginia rushes in, pushes Jonah off, pulls Lucy away. Lucy continues to cry. Out one door and into another.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

Jonah perches on the edge of a silk ridden bed, not a wink of sleep gained, not a single minute of shut eye obtained. A knock at the door.

Stephen enters, sits beside, sighs. A deep cut on his wrist.

Elbows upon knees. Stephen mumbles to himself. Stands, walks, to the window, back to Jonah, back to the window, pacing.

Stephen stops, looks to Jonah, about to speak, says nothing. More pacing.

A moment of inspiration. Jumping, leaping, to the door, out the door, back in, hat in hand, a book in the other.

Jonah to his feet. Out the door. Out another.

INT. BAR - DAY

Jonah sits sipping beer as Stephen downs another, the clock hardly ten, Stephen hardly sober.

The bartender offers not a bit of disgust, pouring glass after glass with nothing but apathetic ignorance.

Stephen smiles, toasts his sweating chalice, and downs it again, spilling more and more upon his cumbersome album, an album of photos, the album Stephen recently offered to Jonah.

Tripping, stumbling, mumbling, Stephen falls to his feet, falls into Jonah, and passes a paper into Jonah’s pocket.

Jonah doesn’t notice. Stephen wobbles to the latrine.

Jonah takes another sip, far from half empty.

A terrible light strangles the room, morning sun silhouetting a figure and her daughter.

Virginia pulls Lucy tight with bitter hissing words, swiftly steering Lucy to where Stephen once was.

Virginia plops Lucy down and huffs to the back, slamming on the door with vicious contempt.

The door hardly opens and Virginia rushes in, yelling and screaming and crashing with misery.

The bartender pours Lucy a glass of juice and shakes his solemn head as if this is little more than a common happenstance.

Stephen stumbles out, followed by Virginia, fumbling with his book as he is pushed into misery.

Lucy jumps off her stool, grabs Jonah by the hand, and the two follow suit.

EXT. BAR - DAY

Virginia tosses Stephen into the light, into the car, windows ever so slightly partly rolled down.

Doors locked, keys gone.

Virginia walks away. Lucy and Jonah follow.

INT. DINER - DAY

Virginia and Lucy and Jonah sit at a booth, Lucy next to Jonah, Virginia on her own, the three sipping coffee and tea and juice.

A waiter offers food and the three kindly oblige, dropping each plate with pseudo delight.

Jonah whispers to the waiter before he can leave who points to the latrine just a few feet away.

Jonah nods and smiles and steps into the bathroom.

INT. BATHROOM - DAY

Jonah washes his hands, ignoring the mirror, and goes for a towel but finds none near.

Jonah wipes his hands upon his pants.

Pause.

Jonah runs his hands again over his pockets. Inside his pocket. Right pocket. A note. A single word: tomorrow.

Jonah stares at the paper with the horror of perception, tearing the paper and dismissing it quickly.

INT. DINER - DAY

Jonah picks at his food as Virginia grows weary.

Virginia cradles his hands and offers a smile.

Jonah pulls away.

INT. CAR - DAY

Lucy sits in the front, next to her mother, as Jonah props Stephen on heavy burdened shoulders.

The car slows to a halt, tires stalling on gravel, Lucy and Virginia escaping to shelter.

Jonah cautiously shakes Stephen to consciousness.

Stephen jumps with a start and studies his watch: a quarter past 11. Stephen drawls a heavy sighs and rubs at his eyes.

Out of the car and into the front, Stephen claws at the keys lodged into his pocket.

Stephen starts the car and drives away.

EXT. BAR - DAY

Stephen pulls to a spot, just next to his own, cursing at the sight of a bright yellow note.

Seizing the engine, Stephen steps out of the car, grabs the yellow note, and kicks at his own.

Stephen toggles with his ring, the ring to his keys, and pulls off one of the burdensome three, handing it to Jonah as he opens the door to the back seat.

Jonah grips the key tight, regarding no one and nothing.

Stephen sighs and opens another, the door to the driver, entrusting Jonah at least for a little while longer.

Jonah nods and climbs and sits in the front seat, following Stephen as he drives out of the lot.

EXT. COURTHOUSE - DAY

Stephen slows to a stop and Jonah follows suit, the two cars parked in a meter-less lot.

Stephen steps out of the car and Jonah does too, paving their way to a right wrongfully accused.

INT. COURTHOUSE - DAY

Jonah follows Stephen through a door and another and another, a dank empty room with one stringed light and an elderly old maid, trapped behind glass of both the cracked and fogged variety.

Stephen knocks upon the glass and the glass is pulled back, Stephen speaking adamantly in hushed whispered agitation.

Few chairs, few tables, no pictures on the walls. No windows. No natural light. Only one way to enter. One way to exit.

Stephen scribbles some words and pulls Jonah along, deeper and deeper into the cavities of the hall.

Down a hall and through a door, the two are lead to a shadowed room, the door closed and locked the moment they step through.

INT. ROOM - DAY

Still no windows, the light even less. The walls as thick as thieves, as sturdy as 100 year old trees.

The room is barren; no pictures, no posters, nothing but a chair. Stephen offers it to Jonah. Jonah shakes his head. Stephen shrugs and sits in the chair.

Minutes pass by. Jonah paces. Inexorable noises wail from the crevices.

The door opens. A man enters. The ruffled man.

Jonah backs away. Further. Farther. Into a corner, the man whispering to Stephen. Stephen considering.

Jonah clutches the door. Pushing. Pushing. The door won’t open.

Closer. Closer. The two men leering. One final push. Pull. The door finally opens.

Out the door and into the hall.

INT. HALLWAY - DAY

The hall reaches cruelly in every direction, tactful light consumed by harsh bitter shadows. Jonah turns to his right, towards nothing but darkness, and starts off at a sprint towards inevitable doom.

The hall stretches and stretches and ends quite suddenly. No door. Just two more long hallways. Thinking. Thinking. Looking back to his conspirators. Stephen running.

Jonah turns left.

Down a long hall. Two more. Jonah turns right. Down another. Jonah turns left. Another and another. Jonah turns right then left. The hall comes to an end. Dead end.

Jonah watches and waits but sees not a man. Footsteps. Yelling. Can’t turn back now.

A light. A room. A door.

INT. ROOM - DAY

The same as before. The ruffled man sitting.

Back out of the room. Back to the door. Struggling. Struggling. The door finally opens. Stephen enters.

Jonah tries to push past. Can’t. Stephen too strong. Jonah screams and points, gesturing with fright.

Stephen nods, holds Jonah tight. The man nears. Closer. Closer. Jonah finally pushes past. Out another door and into another hall.

INT. HALLWAY - DAY

Dead end obliterated; natural light draws near. A window. Open. Escape. Flee. Jump. Jump.

EXT. COURTHOUSE - DAY

Jonah lies in the grass passed out from exhaustion, the window hardly above, Stephen assessing his liberation.

Stephen sighs, grabs, pulls, the window shut closed.

Stephen steps away.

Stephen exits the courthouse, the doors some ten yards away, and drags Jonah to the car, his car, putting Jonah away.

The two drive away.

INT. CAR - DAY

The car pulls to a stop as Jonah slowly awakes, the two sitting in the drive with a timid regretful face.

Stephen sighs an unsteady breath, steps out of the car, and opens Jonah’s door.

Virginia rushes out.

Virginia gasps at the sight, glares at rotten Stephen, and helps Jonah into the kitchen, into a chair, Stephen standing timidly with faint perturbation.

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Virginia tugs Jonah’s hands and looks into his eyes, but Jonah pulls away, agitated, disheveled, disillusioned for life.

Virginia sighs and passes another cold glare, holding out her hands in furious agitation. Stephen, with downcast eyes, hands over his keys, Virginia snapping at the sight of idiotic desperation.

Stephen sits at the table across from the two, ashamed of his behavior, ashamed he has nothing to do.

Virginia stands with gruff effort and huffs up the stairs. Stephen follows with a sulking merit, apologizing in the meekness of his manner.

Yelling. Screaming. A woman’s voice, no other. Stephen’s voice calm and plaintive and little more than pathetic.

A knock at the door.

The two quiet. Virginia approaches. The voice of a man.

Stephen follows. Nodding, shaking, Jonah’s view entirely hindered by the geometry of his position.

The man steps in, sandwiched between Virginia and Stephen.

A man with glasses. The man with glasses. The man who handed Jonah strange objects and nonsensical phrases.

The man sits across from Jonah, Virginia and Stephen next to the man.

The man offers his hand. Jonah looks away. Doesn’t shake. The man smiles. Scribbles something incoherent.

The man whispers to Virginia, to Stephen. The two exit.

The man reaches into his bag and pulls out an object. Sharp object. A knife.

Jabbing. Pulling. Piercing.

Jonah backs away. The man leering queerly. So close. Too close. Grazing skin. Jonah screams. Grabs his hand. Pulls him down. Head on wood.

Virginia comes rushing. The man sadly soothes, frowns, fixes his glasses, scribbles something down, gathers his belongings, whispers something new.

A phrase. A word. A single word. Written. Scribbled. On paper. From Stephen. Tomorrow.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jonah toys with the knife which lies in his grasp, a meager empty light approaching the night.

Voices mumble. Doors close. Feet on gravel. Into the kitchen.

Jonah paces down.

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

Stephen and Lucy sit at a table surrounded by boxes with strange foreign letters. Stephen points to a chair with reusable chopsticks.

Jonah sits. Virginia sits. The four at the table.

Lucy holds out her hands. The four hold hands. Heads down. A knock at the door. Heads up. Another knock. Another.

Virginia steps away. Some mumbled words. Stephen steps out. More mumbled words. Lucy dangles her feet. Jonah fails to find what he seeks: the couple in the reflection.

The door closes. Virginia returns. Stephen returns holding a jacket, a psychiatric jacket, staggering towards Jonah.

Jonah jumps, hops, leaps, out of his chair, onto the floor, wood crashing against linoleum upon recently mopped floors.

Virginia holds Stephen tight, more in concern than fright. Stephen sighs, folds the jacket, and sets it beside.

Jonah smiles apologetically, replaces his casualty, and exits solemnly.

INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT

Jonah washes his hands avoiding the mirror, searching for a towel, eyes to the ground. Eyes up, just for an instant.

His reflection. Nothing but him. Him and a small scratch under his right eye. Jonah releases a grateful sigh, moves closer to the mirror, inspects.

Picking, pulling, scratching, the scab tears off. A bit of bleeding. Jonah grabs a towel. Holds it tenderly.

The towel grows red. Jonah flinches, flings the towel into the sink. The scar is now two, under both eyes instead of one.

Jonah dabs with the towel again turned bloody. One scar is now ten. Backing to the wall, blood gushing down his body. Glass shatters.

Behind the glass, in the mirror: the ruffled man, the man with glasses, the two burly men, all standing together, smiling.

Screaming. Yelling. A knock on the door. Slamming.

Jonah slips. Falls. Into the bathtub. Onto the ground.

The door opens.

Stephen stares, one aghast, one of horror.

Virginia pushes, past Stephen, to Jonah, cradling his skull in aghast empathy.

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

Jonah condemns hot coffee, cold food, Stephen on the phone, Virginia studying his wounds. No blood. No scars. Just a small bump upon his ragged head.

Jonah watches Stephen as Stephen speaks adamantly, viciously, quietly, turning his head at the sight of Jonah’s curiosity.

Stephen hangs up the phone and sits in a chair, the chair which still holds the jacket for psychiatrics.

Stephen whispers to Virginia. Virginia frowns, nods, and exits.

Stephen stands, looks through some cabinets, pulls out a bottle, and sits next to Jonah.

Stephen opens the bottle and dumps small handful of pills into his palm. Offers one to Jonah. Jonah shakes his head. Stephen grabs his hand, places one in his. Jonah shakes his head even more adamently. Stephen offers water. Still Jonah refuses.

Stephen grabs him by the jaw. Pulling. Prying. Mouth open wide. Pills stuffed in. Hand over mouth. Glaring.

Jonah swallows.

Virginia clangs with the sound of rustling keys, approaching the two with a serious disposition. Stephen stuffs the loose pills into his pocket.

Virginia whispers to Stephen and hands over the keys.

Stephen nods, stands, exits. A running engine. Rubber on gravel. Two brutal lights fading in the distance.

Virginia sits next to Jonah, her eyes on his, holding one hand, trying to soothe.

Screaming. Yelling. A little girl crying. Virginia scurries away.

Jonah waits. Longer. Longer. Barely stands. Can hardly move. Feet heavy. Eyes weary. To the door. Closer. Closer. Fumbles with the knob. Locked. Can’t be opened. Footsteps. Closer. Closer.

Hand against the window. Head against the glass. Pushing. Pulling. The door won’t open.

Virginia with the coarse psychiatric jacket.

Moving. Looming. Gaining.

Jonah falls to the floor.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jonah awakes with a fright, lying in the night, the knife no more than a few inches to his right.

Jonah moves to sit, to stand. Over to the window, pushes the glass pane.

Concrete. Three stories away.

The crackle of footsteps. Jonah withdraws from escape.

Up the stairs. To his door. Past his door. Down the hall.

Jonah pushes and opens and looks past the rotting frame.

A tepid light pierces a dull wooden door. The sound of rushing water. Brushing teeth. Washing face.

Water ceases. Light fades. Virginia escapes. Stops. Looks back. Hesitates. Dallies away.

Jonah sighs, relieved, about to get away. Pauses, turns. Back to the dresser. Back to the knife. Hand on the handle just in case.

INT. FOYER - NIGHT

Jonah pushes, pulls, struggles, strains. No use. Escape futile from the front entry.

Pitter patter. Footsteps. Jonah to a closet.

Jonah opens the door ever so slightly.

A light flickers. A voice hums.

Jonah steps out of the closet and into the shadows, edging his way towards false illumination.

Light fades. Burns out. Virginia scurries away.

Jonah steps into the kitchen.

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

Decadent fixtures. Amiable light. Jonah in a frenzy forsaking due caution.

A loud noise. A crashing chair. Hurried footsteps. To the door. To the door. Almost there.

Bright, white, flashing light.

Jonah turns. Virginia stands, gun in hand.

Jonah reaches for the door. Virginia cocks her gun. Jonah raises his hands, drops the knife.

Virginia steps closer. Closer. Too close.

Jonah reaches for her hands. Pushes. Pulls. The knife on the ground. The gun on the ground. The two on the ground.

Grabbing for the gun. Grabbing for the knife. Jonah gets there first.

Stabbing. Again. And again. And again.

No blood. No marks. Nothing.

Jonah grabs the gun. Cocks. Fires.

Nothing.

Virginia moves in. Jonah backs away. To a drawer. Another. Another.

Sharp object. Knife. Press in. Deeper. Deeper.

Virginia falls to the ground. Bleeding. Gasping. Dying. Dead.

Jonah looms with bloodied hands.

Lock and key. Turn. Illumination.

Stephen in the foyer. Jonah in the kitchen.

Stephen mumbles to himself, trips, steadies, sways: a drunken stupor.

Up the stairs. A closed door. Jonah waits. Nothing more.

Jonah steps to the foyer and studies the arrangement, grabbing the keys which lay in estrangement.

Huffing, puffing, Jonah picks up the body. Out the back door and into the trunk, on top of a small set of recently forgotten items.

Back to the kitchen where the lights still flicker.

Jonah moves to his hands and his knees and his shins, and scrubs, washes, and cleans, again and again.

Out the door. To a shed. To a shovel. To the car.

INT. CAR - NIGHT

Deep breath, turn, pause. Battery on, engine off. An illuminating glow palpating in the distance.

Jonah hesitates.

Another glow. Another window. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

Luminescence dims. One room. Then the other. Deep breath. A rumbling engine. Rubber on gravel. Away. Away. Far away. As far away as can be.

EXT. DIRT ROAD - NIGHT

The car speeds along at a harrowing pace. Down a dirt road. Then another. Another. No rhyme. No reason. Driving without thinking.

Jonah passes the house. The murdered’s late home.

Jonah slows to a stop. The bumping of a body. Searches the car, the glove compartment.

A paper. Some napkins. A map. Studies. Hand along the road, scratching at his skull. Up again. Still the home.

Jonah slowly edges forward. Approaches an intersection. Studies the street, the sign. Can’t read.

Adjusts the car, beams on bright. Still indistinguishable.

Out of the car. Onto the dirt. Into the grass. Staring up at the envy green sign.

The sign reads Imber. The other reads Imber. Both streets. Both Imber.

Jonah steps to the car. Agitated. Frustrated. Bemused.

The door locked. The keys trapped.

Jonah tries another door. Another. Growing more and more agitated with each and every pull. All locked. Trunk too.

Jonah screams. Yells. Kicks.

Lights in the distance slowing to a stop.

A woman cautiously emerges, pepper spray in hand. Jonah attempts to hide in feeble desperation.

The woman approaches, knocks, looks. Peers to the back. Tries a door. Locked. Tries another. Locked too. To the other side.

Jump. Scream. Spray.

Jonah falls back clutching at his sockets.

The woman pauses.

Jonah rubs at his eyes, points to his car, tears streaming down his elongated face.

The woman looks to him, to the car, back to him. Jonah steps close. The woman threatens again. Jonah holds his hands high, pulls at the door. The woman nods. Walks away. Into her car.

The car door opens, passenger side.

Jonah steps close but doesn’t step in.

The woman urges. Jonah refuses. The woman sighs, lights a cigarette, and points to an indistinguishable haze a ways down the road. Jonah hesitates. Sways. Steps in.

The two drive away, approaching the meager light.

EXT. PHONE BOOTH - NIGHT

The car stalls in the light, the woman gathering loose change in arbitrary delight.

Jonah nods, smiles, exits.

The woman drives away.

Jonah steps into the booth.

INT. PHONE BOOTH - NIGHT

Jonah inserts a coin. Another. Another. Picks up the phone. Dial tone. Hesitates.

Jonah hangs up the phone, head to the glass. Banging. Clanging. Harder. Longer. Blood trickles down.

Jonah kicks at the seat: a flimsy piece of wood. The seat shakes. Jonah pauses. Kicks again. Harder. Harder.

The plywood falls with a meek little sigh.

EXT. DIRT ROAD - DAY

Jonah approaches the car with inexorable agitation, dragging brittle plywood with fuming intonations.

Testing. Swinging. Smashing. Glass scattering. Lights flashing.

From the void stalks a man in all blue, hands fidgeting with a gun almost never used. Jonah drops his feeble weapon.

The officer regards the cold pavement. Jonah doesn’t move. Again the officer gestures. Still Jonah refuses.

The officer attempts another step. Another. Another. Hand on the gun. Hand on the trigger. Another on the gun. Another on the barrel.

Pushing, shoving, squirming. Shot. Two. Three.

On the ground. The pistol goes flying.

The officer reaches for his damp taser. Jonah smashes the officer’s hand into the pavement.

The two roll. The officer squirms. Fails fleeing. Cries in pain. Pushes. The two standing, facing each other, each with no weapon.

The officer withdraws. Out of the light. Into the darkness. Towards flashing technicolor.

Jonah rushes. The officer reaches. Pulls. Too slow.

Tackled. On the ground. One on top. Then the other.

Off the road. Into a ditch. Cold, brutal snow. Filthy mud. Freezing trash.

Jonah gains the advantage, holds the officer deep under shallow water. Drowning. Flailing. Gasping. Not breathing. Not moving. Nothing.

Jonah falls to his side. Sharp painful breaths.

A car drives by but takes little notice.

Jonah leans towards the man searching for life. The officer coughs.

A breath of relief.

Jonah drags the man out, into the car, switching the lights, turning the keys, bombarding the man with all of its heat.

The officer moans.

Jonah closes the door and steps to his own, unlocking the car and driving far off.

EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

Levitating lights linger in the night. Jonah steps out into the brights.

Jonah tests the soil, the feel: hard bitter steel.

A car drifts by.

Jonah surveys the field. Sighs. Steps away.

EXT. ROAD - NIGHT

Jonah slows to a stop off into the grass, contemplating the forest which lays rather vast.

Jonah looks back, ahead, another deep breath.

Into the forest, into the trees, edging the car ever so meekly away from the street.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Lights flicker as tires lull, a feeble engine moaning with weary exhaustion.

Jonah steps out of the car and back to the trunk. Fidgeting. Struggling. Pulling.

A book falls flat.

Jonah drops the woman dead and retrieves the biograpy.

A picture of him. Many pictures of him.

Him with a woman, a woman in white, a woman with lipstick and makeup and a long decadent gown.

The two singing, the two dancing. Him with a baby, him with a toddler. The little girl on his shoulders. Another page and more pictures.

Him and the girl and the woman amongst the world’s largest yarn, the world’s tallest cross, the world’s nosiest wind chime. Him and her (the girl) sitting in a car. Him and her studying a map. Him and her and the woman sitting stoically by the ocean side. Him and the woman at a meager plaintive doctor’s office.

Him and her and the woman resting upon a porch. Cooking in the yard. Fixing a floor. Fixing a roof. Him and the woman at another doctor’s office.

Him and her and the woman in another car, on another trip, the young girl grown older, the woman a bit smaller. Arlington, Smithsonian, many Korean memorials. Him and the woman yet again at another doctor’s office.

Him and her before a car, before a house, keys in a petite set of eager hands.

Him and her in a hospital. Him and her next to a bed. Him and her comforting each other next to the woman’s bed.

Him and the woman dancing.

Him and the woman posing, her in a wheelchair, he solemnly standing, the hospital ominously looming behind them.

The two at a beach. The two at dinner. The two going snorkeling and hiking and fishing.

Him and the girl dressed in all black. Him sitting alone. Him at a window. Him with a sad smile looking back.

Him and the girl in front of a school holding a paper proudly in hand. Him and her sitting in a car, reading a map. More miscellaneous tourist nonsense.

Him and her before a dorm, him in shorts, her in a sweater. Him and her drinking a beer.

Him and a man, the man in an oversized suit, the two shaking hands. Him and the man and the girl sitting together, smiling, laughing, eating dinner, him holding his fork in an odd sort of manner.

Him in black, the man in black, the girl in all white. Him and the girl, now a young woman, dancing.

Him with a baby. Him on a bike. Him and the little girl reading an upside down map.

A picture of the little girl grown older. Kindergarten. First grade. Virginia next to Lucy next to Stephen next to Jonah.

Jonah at a doctors office. Another with Stephen. Another with Virginia. Another with both. Another with all three.

Lying under an MRI. Lying under a CT. Virginia next to Jonah next to Stephen next to Lucy, three of the four withholding bitter tears.

Jonah standing with Virginia and Lucy and Stephen, standing before a monstrosity of a putrid old building. A facility. The facility. The facility Jonah too recently attempted to break free from.

Jonah shakes the hands of many. Men. Women. Doctors. Nurses. The man with glasses. The man with a ruffled jacket. Everyone. Anyone. Rapturously. Kindly. Without even a tinge of malice.

Jonah releases his confession.

Jonah hobbles. Trips. Falls.

Virginia. His daughter.

Jonah screams. Crawls back to a tree, gasping, suffocating, bawling.

Deep breath. Slow bitter tears. Jonah slowly climbs to his feet. To Virginia. To forgiveness. Brushing at her hair. Holding back tears. Biting at his hand. The ruffle of leaves.

Snow crunching. Branches breaking. Footsteps. Light. Nearer. Closer.

Jonah pulls Virginia’s body, pushes, rolls, under the roar of the still mumbling engine.

A hunter consumes the meaningless void: flashlight, shotgun, hunting gear, concern.

The hunter looks to Jonah, the car, the tracks.

The hunter steps toward the car.

The hunter turns off the brights, the lights, the engine. Jonah follows with his eyes.

The hunter holds a gloved finger to a chapped set of lips.

Aim. Steady. Fire.

Jonah on the ground. Whimpering. Not bleeding. Not hurt. Next to a dead bird.

The hunter crouches, retrieves, pauses, patronizes, escapes.

Jonah hobbles, withdraws his shovel, pierces brittle soil. Stops. Assesses.

Tracks. Tire tracks. Indisputable evidence.

Jonah drops the shovel, regains Virginia, and fumbles away further and farther, deep into the impenetrable darkness.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Jonah relinquishes his burden and heaves a heavy sigh.

No one. Nothing. Not even his shovel.

Looking. Searching. Losing. Tracks gone. Car abandoned. Jonah lost.

Jonah maneuvers the dead body until it is sitting, leaning the retched thing against an old stump.

Jonah plummets to the ground in incurable defeat.

Jonah yells. Screams. Howls. His echo his only companion.

Jonah digs at the snow. Fingers raw. Hands shaking. Piercing dirt. Clawing. Clawing. A futile effort. No more than a few inches gained.

Jonah’s head to the ground. Crying. Hitting. Slamming.

Head to earth. Head to rock. Again and again and again. Futile also.

Jonah moans a weary mumble. Crawls. Recovers. Escapes.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Jonah stumbles in meager darkness, tripping in queer falseness, falling with loose rock down a treacherous encumbrance.

Breaking. Crashing. Splashing. Rushing water. 6 inches shallow.

Jonah succumbs to his fate, no longer shivering. Pain obliterated. Finding some sort of peace at the clomp of dead feet.

A hunter draws near. Runs. Sprints. Drags Jonah away.

Pushing. Digging. Pulling. First her coat, then her jacket.

Covering. Hiding. Running. Shaking heavy hands over an almost dead body.

The hunter steps away. Jonah lies shivering. The hunter returns with twigs and branches.

Lighting. Wood too wet. Dousing with a small canister. The wood crackles with heavy smoke. Jonah pushes near. Shivers.

The starry night sky.

The hunter withdraws a dead bird from the slow burning fire, handing some to Jonah in a gentle honest manner.

Jonah moves to sit and nibbles at it plaintively.

The hunter shivers.

Jonah withdraws from his coat and offers his warmth, but is solemnly refused, the hunter nipping at her food.

Jonah stares into the void where escape once laid.

The hunter abandons her bones, kicks snow on the flames, and pulls Jonah to his feet, crouching as the two limp away.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

The two limp along at a nervous hurried pace, one hand over the other, shoulder to shoulder, indelible signs leading the way.

The two approach an abandoned vehicle.

The hunter sets Jonah aside, inside, him the passenger, her the driver, and turns the ignition.

INT. CAR - NIGHT

The two lull in the warmth of the heat.

The hunter searches her bag, pulls out a thermometer, and sets it in place.

The thermometer wails. The hunter frowns, feels Jonah’s head, pulls at his leg, gestures to his feet.

Jonah unwinds his pants, wrappings, shoes, pulling bruised feet out of wet socks.

The hunter frowns, pulls out a needle, pokes. Jonah jumps. The hunter smiles.

The hunter offers some berries but Jonah’s still queasy and shakes his burdened head anxiously and wearily.

The hunter hovers her hand over the stick shift but is held back by the wrist, Jonah staring deep past murky eyes with a shaking head of fervent intent.

The hunter sighs, nods, pulls away.

Callused hands graze Jonah’s cheek, Jonah’s chin. A feeble smile.

The hunter withdraws. Moves away. Out of the car. Into the snow. Past the deep void of incomparable darkness.

After gaining some feeling, gaining some strength, Jonah falls to the ground, to the snow, to the book.

Jonah clutches the book and crawls to the bumper, pulling out the pictures one after another.

Jonah stuffs the pictures into his pocket and maneuvers the shovel to a feeble erection.

Jonah steps to the front and replaces the book, stealing the keys in some sort of hope.

Leveraging the shovel, Jonah limps along further, following the tracks of the hunter and her conspirator.

EXT. RIVER - NIGHT

Jonah approaches the river. The incline. The suicide.

Though the water is shallow, the river is wide.

Jonah stabs. Dirt. Rocks. Roots.

A small tree tumbles.

Jonah gathers. Sticks. Twigs. Anything nearby. Jonah constructs a meager dam.

Jonah timidly attempts the futile effort. Sticks cracking. Stones creaking. Dirt bending.

Another step. Another. Middle of the dam.

A few more steps. Almost there.

Into the water.

The dam broken. Jumping quickly. Just a few more steps. Onto wet land. Jonah quickly pulls off soaked shoes. Socks. Other socks.

Frostbitten feet.

Jonah drains the socks as best he can and applies them back on again.

Jonah carries on, shovel in hand.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

The sky grows dim in the light of chasing day, Jonah approaching Virginia in inexorable exhaustion.

Jonah tests the ground: brittle as steel.

Jonah walks away.

EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

Jonah reaches the end, the end of the forest, assessing the field ruined by malpractice.

Jonah attempts a few paces and tries the tender soil: soft.

Jonah digs. Again and again and again.

Jonah withdraws. Back to the woods. Back to the forest. Jonah abandoning the shovel with lackluster apathy.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Jonah pulls the dead body out of the woods and into the grave.

EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

Dirt dug, grave buried, Jonah stands amongst a vast expanse of exuberant misery: a barren wasteland of putrid smells and bitter wind, plummeting snow and fevirish howls.

With a bitter smile and a tepid wince, Jonah exacerbates a final tear of sorrow, a final tinge of regret, forgetting the forgotten in febrile ecstasy.