FADE IN:
EXT. MOUNTAIN TRAIL - DAY
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGE looms like a wall of jagged stone.
Brutal. Ancient.
Mist clings to towering pines -- thick, low.
Everything is still.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
FOOTSTEPS. In rhythm.
A YOUNG WOMAN (20s), athletic, jogs alone through a dense
pine forest. Earbuds in. Hood up.
Pines lean in.
Branches arch overhead like claws.
She runs deeper.
THROUGH THE TREES
A faint RUSTLE.
Behind a curtain of fog --
Something massive moves, flowing like liquid shadow.
BACK TO JOGGER
She slows -- posture tightening.
She glances over her shoulder --
Only trees. Fog.
She quickens her pace.
THROUGH THE TREES
Her figure appears in fractured glimpses through the mist.
Then --
A low GROWL vibrates the air. Deep. Resonant.
BACK TO JOGGER
She stops. Pulls out one earbud --
Silence.
Her jaw tightens. Eyes dart.
Pulls out the second earbud --
The forest rushes in --
Wind in branches. A distant bird. Her breath.
Then --
Nothing.
She exhales. Laughs. Shaky.
Turns to go --
SNAP.
A branch behind her jerks violently, recoiling from pressure.
She spins --
Eyes wide. Scanning...
Nothing.
Then --
Sound DROPS AWAY, drenching the scene in an uneasy, eerie
silence.
She backs up a step...
Suddenly --
WHAM!
A MASSIVE SHAPE explodes from the trees in a blur of CLAWS
AND FANGS.
The shadowy creature SMASHES into her like a wave hitting the
shore.
She hits the ground -- hard.
She screams -- choked, guttural -- then slides into shadow.
The forest exhales.
Then --
Silence.
Stillness.
A single, blood-slick sneaker lies abandoned in the dirt.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Climb of Contrasts
EXT. MOUNTAIN CLIFF - DAY
A hand clamps down on a rock face -- fingers straining,
dusted in chalk.
CLARE LOCKWOOD (30s) ascends a sheer granite wall. Every
muscle taut.
Her face -- a mix of quiet determination and weariness.
Sweat beads down her temple, cut by the thin mountain air.
Below her, the world falls away --
The Rocky Mountains stretch endlessly, a dizzying drop into
shadowed wilderness.
Clare closes her eyes.
Inhales. Slow. Measured.
She opens her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
But as her gaze shifts to the left, her expression darkens.
In the distance --
A construction site cuts through the beauty like a scar --
gray skeletons of buildings rising against the vibrant green
of the forest.
Her jaw tightens -- a flicker of anger flashes in her eyes.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Whispers of the Mountain
EXT. MOUNTAIN SUMMIT - DAY (FLASHBACK)
YOUNG CLARE (10) sits beside her father, RAY LOCKWOOD (30s),
a slab of a man, on a sunlit peak high above the clouds.
Her cheeks are red from the cold, eyes wide with wonder.
Below them, the world stretches endlessly --
Pine forests fade into a blue haze.
Ray removes his gloves -- brushes windblown snow from Clare’s
hair.
RAY
Up here. The world stops.
He closes his eyes, listening.
RAY (CONT'D)
And if you listen close enough...
You can hear the mountain
breathing.
YOUNG CLARE
Breathing? Really?
He nods, half-smiling -- coughs. Dry. Harsh. Wrong.
RAY
It’s alive. Everything up here is.
Even the silence.
The sound of the wind deepens --
A low hum that seems to come from within the mountain itself.
He looks out toward the horizon -- distant, haunted.
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Drama","Adventure","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Urgent Call on the Cliff
EXT. ROCK FACE - DAY (PRESENT DAY)
Clare reaches for the next hold.
CRACK.
A rock dislodges, tumbling into the void until it disappears.
Her phone vibrates on the strap around her arm --
A faint buzz against the cliff face.
She ignores it.
Keeps climbing.
It buzzes again. Longer than before.
Clare mutters to herself, annoyed.
She shifts her weight --
One hand dangles hundreds of feet above the ground as she
fumbles the phone free.
CLARE
This better be good, Bill.
BILL (V.O.)
(beat)
Fatal attack in Black Ridge. I need
you and Jack on-site now.
Clare’s grip tightens on the stone. Her eyes harden.
CLARE
Jesus, a fatality?
A pause. Only wind hissing through.
Then -- a rough exhale.
BILL (V.O.)
Just get up there, Clare.
Clare exhales sharply -- looks down --
Past her boots --
Down the sheer rock wall --
Into the forest sprawling far below.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Into the Mountains: A New Challenge
INT. COLORADO PARKS AND WILDLIFE - OFFICE - DAY
A cluttered, wood-paneled office. Maps of the Rocky Mountains
plaster the walls, dotted with pins and markers.
Clare pushes through the door, dressed in field gear.
Her eyes land on JACK COLLINS (40s), a good soldier gone
civilian, sitting with his boots propped on the desk.
A scar at Jack’s throat catches the light --
Pale and twisted, like an old wound that still whispers.
CLARE
You talk to Bill?
Jack lowers his boots, studies her.
JACK
Jogger went missing yesterday.
Found her this morning.
He looks away -- jaw tense.
JACK (CONT'D)
Or what’s left of her.
Clare doesn't blink.
Jack leans back with arms crossed -- sizing her up like he’s
measuring how much weight she can carry.
JACK (CONT'D)
Don’t let it spook you. We'll
handle it.
CLARE
Who said I was spooked?
JACK
You've never dealt with a fatality
before. Everybody's spooked.
(soft, almost to himself)
Just some of us hide it better.
CLARE
You saying that for you or for me?
Jack gives a small laugh -- not amused, but appreciative.
JACK
Well, the mountains are expecting
us.
Clare snaps open her rifle case -- slides her 270 Winchester
out with clean efficiency.
CLARE
Then let’s not keep them waiting.
Jack grabs his gear, shrugs into his field jacket.
EXT. WILDLIFE OFFICE - DAY
The only truck in the lot -- a white Ford truck with "CPW"
decals on the doors.
Clare hauls her pack and rifle case into the bed, her
movements controlled and tight.
Jack tosses a beat-up Army duffel bag and rifle case in, with
a soldier’s carelessness.
Clare pauses.
Her gaze climbs the tree line --
Higher, to the jagged peaks beyond.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Journey Through Indifference
EXT. MOUNTAIN PASS - DAY
The CPW truck rumbles along a narrow, winding road -- carved
into the mountainside.
Towering pines and jagged cliffs loom on either side.
INT. TRUCK - DAY
Clare grips the wheel -- focused, steady.
Jack sips from a battered gas station coffee cup, steam
curling upward in lazy spirals.
The truck rounds a bend, and the world opens up –
Through the windshield --
The majestic Rocky Mountains rise in a jaw-dropping panorama
-- bathed in morning light.
Immense. Sacred.
Both fall silent.
Clare eases off the gas instinctively, letting the view
breathe.
JACK
Never gets old, does it?
CLARE
Nope.
(beat)
Feels like they're watching us.
Jack chuckles, amused.
JACK
The mountains don't care who you
are.
CLARE
That supposed to be comforting?
JACK
Only if you're humble.
Jack leans toward the window, letting the silence between
them stretch.
The pines blur past like brushstrokes in motion.
Clare’s face softens. A moment of awe, unguarded.
They round another curve --
The landscape changes -- the road descends into a scar --
An open-pit mine, vast and gaping like a wound in the earth.
Trucks the size of houses crawl through switchbacks.
Plumes of black dust rise like smoke from a dying fire.
Clare’s fingers tighten on the wheel.
CLARE
We sell postcards of paradise... so
they can dig it up and pave over
it.
Jack watches a dump truck disgorge loads of raw stone into
the abyss below.
JACK
Everybody wants their own little
slice of nature.
(beat)
At least the illusion of it.
A heavy silence settles.
Clare’s gaze drifts to the treeline -- dense, dark, watchful.
For a moment, it feels like the pines are leaning in,
listening.
Then --
Up ahead, a battered yellow highway sign pierces the mist --
“BEWARE OF MOUNTAIN LIONS.”
The image hits her like a punch.
Her breath stutters.
Her eyes flick to her hands -- white-knuckled on the wheel.
A faded scar runs the length of her index finger -- a memory
she never talks about.
Jack follows her gaze. Something unspoken passes between
them.
Clare forces her shoulders to relax.
Reaches into her jacket.
Pulls out an inhaler.
Takes a sharp, practiced pull -- the kind you only learn from
years of needing it.
EXT. BLACK RIDGE - DAY
The CPW truck rattles into the remote mountain town, dwarfed
by the jagged Rockies looming on all sides.
The place feels isolated -- a pocket of civilization clinging
to the wilderness.
A battered roadside sign creaks in the wind --
“WELCOME TO BLACK RIDGE – ELEVATION 9,412 FT.”
As the truck rolls down the only main street, we see --
A strip of cabins, a weathered gas station, a diner, and a
general store with antlers nailed above the door.
The air feels heavy. Quiet. Too quiet.
The truck passes the diner, its neon sign sputtering “OPEN.”
For a split second, the “O” flickers out -- reading “PEN.”
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Tension in the Sheriff's Office
INT. SHERIFF’S OFFICE – DAY
Dim. Stale. A room frozen in time. Wood-paneled walls warped
with age.
Behind the desk, SHERIFF BAUER (late 60s), built like an old
oak trunk, leans back in his chair, hat tipped low.
He lifts the brim as Clare and Jack enter -- eyes sharp,
unreadable.
SHERIFF BAUER
You the wildlife folks?
CLARE
Clare Lockwood, Colorado Parks and
Wildlife. This is Jack Collins, my
partner.
Sheriff Bauer shifts in his chair, nervous.
SHERIFF BAUER
You folks always show up after the
mountain takes its toll.
JACK
Bad news doesn’t RSVP.
Sheriff Bauer stands -- slow, deliberate, like a man who
hasn’t rushed in years.
He studies them for a beat.
The sheriff’s gaze lingers on Jack -- then slides back to
Clare.
SHERIFF BAUER
Follow me.
He turns toward the hallway that leads deeper into the
station.
Clare and Jack share a glance as they follow him, their
footsteps echoing on the warped wood floors.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
The Morgue Revelation
INT. HALLWAY - DAY
Sheriff Bauer pushes open a heavy door at the end of a
cinderblock hallway --
Air leaks out -- cold. Heavy.
SHERIFF BAUER
Brace yourselves.
INT. MORGUE - DAY
A cold, windowless chamber. White tile, scuffed and stained.
The fluorescent light overhead hums and flickers.
An old steel autopsy table dominates the center of the room.
A body bag lies atop it -- zipped shut.
Sheriff Bauer stands grim, one hand braced on the table.
He nods toward the bag.
His fingers linger on the zipper.
Clare sets her jaw. Steps closer.
Sheriff Bauer pulls the zipper...
The sound is long and metallic, slowly revealing --
A torso ripped open, ribs fractured outward.
The face --
Frozen mid-scream -- half-gone, cheek shredded to the bone.
One eye is glassy -- the other missing entirely.
Deep claw marks score across the abdomen.
The room falls still.
Clare swallows hard -- leans in, eyes narrowing.
She traces a gloved finger along the ribcage.
The wounds are jagged and vicious.
CLARE
Cervical vertebrae fractured in
three places... Jugular...
completely severed.
Jack traces his fingers over four deep, evenly spaced gouges
that stretch from the victim’s ribs to her hip.
Clare’s stomach tightens.
JACK
Claw marks appear to be --
Clare calculates the spread in her head.
CLARE
-- Over a foot across...
(to herself)
Doesn’t make any sense.
Clare steps back, processing.
Jack exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw.
A cold sterility hangs in the air -- disinfectant, metal,
decay -- but something else lurks beneath it.
A thin, acrid chemical scent threads through the room.
Not strong. Not obvious.
Just enough to catch the back of the throat.
Clare’s nose wrinkles first.
CLARE (CONT'D)
(smelling the air)
Do you smell that?
Jack leans in, sniffing above the body.
The scent is wrong: a sharp, metallic tang layered with a
sweet, synthetic burn -- like overheated circuitry mixed with
old antifreeze.
A smell that doesn’t belong anywhere near a human body.
Jack’s brow tightens. He smells it too.
JACK
Yeah.
(low)
What the hell is that?
They exchange a look -- unsettled -- as the cold room
suddenly feels smaller.
Sheriff Bauer shifts uncomfortably.
SHERIFF BAUER
You ever seen a mountain lion do
that to somebody?
Clare's face hardens. In her eyes -- a flicker of doubt.
CLARE
We need to investigate the attack
site before we draw any
conclusions.
Sheriff Bauer moves to a nearby metal filing cabinet and
pulls out a map, laying it on a side table.
He circles a spot on the map -- taps on it with his pen.
SHERIFF BAUER
One mile northwest of the main
trail as the crow flies.
CLARE
We’ll head there now -- make it
back before dark.
Sheriff Bauer studies them for a beat, then nods.
Jack and Clare turn toward the door.
EXT. MOUNTAIN TRAIL - DAY
The midday sun filters through the pine canopy, casting
shifting patches of light across the ground.
Clare and Jack move down a narrow trail, their boots sinking
into the soft earth.
The air grows heavier with each step -- muffled, as if the
woods are swallowing sound.
EXT. FOREST CLEARING - DAY
Jack and Clare step into a clearing -- scarred, silent.
Blood stains dirt in wide arcs, almost black.
Clare stops.
At her feet --
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
The Watchful Forest
A PAW PRINT. Massive. Deep. Wider than her boot.
The forest falls silent.
No birds. No wind. Even the insects seem to vanish.
Clare crouches -- traces her finger along a claw groove.
Jack crouches beside her.
JACK
Those aren’t just deep. They’re...
heavy. Like whatever made them was
carrying more weight than it
should.
Clare looks up --
The trees feel closer now.
Watching.
She rises slowly.
Jack's hand shifts toward his rifle -- alert.
Clare’s eyes follow the branch upward into the shadows of the
canopy.
Suddenly --
A FLASH in the tree line.
Gone.
Her breath quickens.
CLARE
It’s watching us.
Jack unslings his Remington 700 -- eyes narrowing at the
dense wall of trees.
JACK
Good. Then we’re not wasting our
time.
The two stand back-to-back in the clearing, dwarfed by the
forest around them and mountains above.
A low GROWL rolls through the trees. Resonant. Too deep for
any predator they know.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Predator's Approach
EXT. FOREST CLEARING - DAY
The last light of day bleeds through the trees.
Clare and Jack move in practiced silence, their breath
fogging in the still air.
The woods are still, the silence weighted -- like the forest
is listening.
Jack unloads gear from his pack --
Steel foothold traps, snares, and a sealed bucket labeled
“DEER MEAT.”
Clare unspools a chain, hammering an anchor stake into the
dirt.
CLARE
We’ll line them along the
perimeter. Predators circle before
they come back to feed.
JACK
And if this one doesn’t circle?
Clare doesn’t answer. She’s too focused.
She tightens the chain with a practiced twist.
SNAP.
The steel jaws clamp shut with a sharp metallic crack.
Clare resets it -- hands steady. Eyes less so.
Her eyes flick to the dark between the trees.
Jack kneels beside a fallen trunk, rolling back the lid of
the bait bucket.
The smell hits -- feral, wet, sweet rot.
He spears a chunk of blood-slick meat with a stick -- lays it
in the trap.
WHOOSH.
A bird explodes upward from the canopy -- cawing in terror.
Jack freezes, rifle half-raised.
Clare steadies him with a quiet hand.
CLARE
Probably just a deer.
Jack doesn’t move for a long moment.
His eyes stay fixed on the tree line -- finger resting on the
trigger guard.
The woods settle again.
A silence too absolute.
Then she feels it --
A low vibration underfoot --
Barely perceptible, like the ground itself is exhaling.
Wind stirs the treetops.
Then --
A distant ROAR.
It rolls across the valley. Long. Heavy -- vibrating their
bones.
Every tree in the clearing sways, perfectly in sync.
The roar fades -- but the trees keep swaying like a heartbeat
that isn’t theirs.
Clare's gaze locks onto the darkness of the forest.
Her eyes glint with fear in the dying light.
THROUGH THE TREES
TWO YELLOW EYES blink once --
Then vanish into darkness.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Stormy Reflections
INT. DINER - NIGHT
A small-town diner. Faded linoleum floors.
Clare and Jack sit in a cracked vinyl booth near the window.
SANDY (50s), with kind eyes and nicotine laugh lines,
approaches with a coffee pot.
SANDY
Evenin.’ Coffee?
CLARE
Please.
Jack nods. Sandy pours. The coffee steams like oil.
SANDY
Kitchen’s slow tonight. Storm’s got
folks spooked.
JACK
Storm?
SANDY
First big one of the season.
Rolling down from the Divide by the
afternoon. You two still plan on
being around when it hits?
Clare glances at Jack.
CLARE
Looks that way.
Sandy studies them a beat too long.
SANDY
This about that missing girl?
JACK
Can’t comment on an active case,
ma’am.
Sandy leans closer.
SANDY
(whisper)
Sure. Just hope you find her before
the coyotes do.
Jack forces a smile.
CLARE
How's the pie here?
SANDY
Dangerous as my third ex-husband.
CLARE
I'll take a slice.
JACK
Ditto.
Sandy nods -- shuffles off with the coffee pot.
JACK (CONT'D)
Always wondered what the big appeal
is with diners. The food is always
the same, but it has this...
comforting aura.
Clare’s attention drifts -- pulled by something she can’t
quite name.
Across the diner, at a corner table half-buried in shadow,
WALTER (60s) sits alone with a bowl of stew growing cold.
He’s still, too still, like someone waiting for a cue only he
can hear.
Clare’s gaze slides over him.
For a heartbeat, Walter looks up -- meeting her eyes with
quiet, uncanny calm.
Not curiosity.
Assessment.
Clare blinks, unsettled.
Walter drops his eyes back to his spoon as if nothing
happened.
CLARE
It's the consistency. You know what
you're getting -- there's something
nice about that.
JACK
That's it. The consistency.
Jack's gaze grows thoughtful, fixed on the window.
JACK (CONT'D)
You believe in things you can't
explain?
CLARE
I believe in evidence and
explanations.
JACK
You didn't answer the question. I'm
all for science, reasoning, but not
everything adds up sometimes...
CLARE
You sound like my father.
Clare’s eyes drift to her reflection in the window -- a pale
ghost in the glass.
CLARE (CONT'D)
He died when I was twelve. He was a
scientist with faith. A rare breed.
(beat)
Wanted me to be a rodeo queen.
Ride a horse named... Starburst
Thunder. Wear sequins. Smile like I
meant it.
Jack leans back, smirks.
JACK
Starburst Thunder. Now that's a
name of destiny.
They share the first real flicker of warmth.
Sandy returns with two plates, setting them down with a
clatter.
CLARE
Why’d you leave the Army?
Jack leans back, his face unreadable.
JACK
Platoon got ambushed outside of
Kundar. RPG hit the lead truck.
Everything turned to fire and
static. And I --
(MORE)
JACK (CONT'D)
(beat)
I froze.
Clare’s jaw tightens—not judgment, but recognition. She
finally looks at him. Really looks.
JACK (CONT'D)
Men I trained with were screaming.
Smoke everywhere. Couldn’t see a
damn thing. And I just..
(shakes head)
locked up.
His hand starts to shake. He hides it under the table.
Clare shifts back -- subtle, instinctive.
CLARE
That doesn't make you a coward. I
froze once, too. Almost killed got
myself killed.
Something vulnerable flashes across his face.
JACK
Been doing this for over twenty
years. We get wolves, bears,
coyotes, the occasional rogue
cat... but this -- this is
something different.
Clare looks out toward the mountains -- their silhouettes
shifting in the dark.
CLARE
Whatever it is... it's not done.
The diner lights hum louder.
Wind screams against the glass.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
The Clever Predator
EXT. FOREST CLEARING - DAY
The sky is overcast -- a low ceiling of clouds presses down
on the mountains.
Clare clenches her jaw as they enter the clearing --
The circle of traps remains exactly where they set them.
UNDISTURBED.
The bait rags --
GONE.
Only damp strings dangle where they were tied.
Jack kneels by one of the steel traps --
The jaws remain cocked -- unsprung.
JACK
Impossible...
Clare crouches beside him.
CLARE
Not impossible. Smart.
Jack glances at her, unsettled.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Predators adapt.
Jack points at the soil around the trap.
JACK
See here? It came in from the side.
Didn’t step where we wanted -- used
its muzzle -- maybe teeth, pulled
the rag off clean... Never touched
the plate.
Clare shakes her head, kneeling deeper into the dirt.
CLARE
It's smart. A problem solver.
Jack moves to another trap and kneels.
He brushes pine needles aside to reveal --
A massive, deep PAW PRINT beneath.
JACK
Not smart enough not to leave a
trail.
Clare’s gaze turns to claw impressions gouged into damp soil
-- subtle drag marks weave between pines.
Clare rises, brushing dirt from her gloves.
CLARE
If he doesn’t want to come to us,
we’ll go to him.
Jack nods his head and stands -- rifle ready.
Clare takes her inhaler from her pocket -- takes a deep pull.
The forest seems to lean closer -- listening.
Clare stares deep into the forest, uneasy.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Into the Wilderness
EXT. MOUNTAIN HOUSE - DAY (FLASHBACK)
A clapboard cabin perches on the edge of a vast wilderness.
The Rocky Mountains rise behind it like the ribs of an
ancient, slumbering god.
YOUNG CLARE (11) steps off the back porch, a satchel slung
over one shoulder, a hunting knife nearly half her size
strapped to her hip.
YOUNG CLARE
I’m gonna go check the traps!
From inside the house --
CLARE’S DAD (O.S.)
You know the rules. Bring your
knife --
YOUNG CLARE
-- I got it, Dad.
She pats the handle of the knife like it makes her
invincible.
CLARE’S DAD (O.S.)
Good girl. Don’t be long.
She heads into the trees.
The air shifts.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
A Lesson in the Woods
EXT. MOUNTAIN FOREST - DAY
Sunlight spears through the canopy in fractured shafts.
The cabin disappears behind a wall of trunks.
Clare slows. Her breathing grows shallow.
A faint RUSTLE.
She places her hand on the knife.
Then another sound --
A whispering scrape -- like teeth grinding just beyond the
veil of trees.
She draws her knife quickly -- careless -- nicks her finger
with the blade.
YOUNG CLARE
(whisper)
Shit.
Blood beads along her skin, running in a perfect crimson
thread.
Then --
A GUTTURAL SNARL rips the silence open like fabric.
Clare freezes.
Then --
Something emerges from the brush --
A MOUNTAIN LION. Massive. Ten feet nose to tail.
Its tawny fur bristles -- amber eyes glowing like molten
coins in a black forge.
It paces slowly -- a ghost made of muscle and instinct.
The beast’s tail slices the air like a whip.
The forest leans inward. Every tree seems to watch.
Clare’s fingers shake.
The knife dips.
She swallows a scream. Trembles.
The lion crouches --
Legs coil.
Then --
It lunges at Clare with blinding speed, jaws gaped --
BANG!
A rifle shot cracks like thunder.
The lion jerks mid-air -- collapsing in a heap with a wet
thud.
Still.
The forest exhales.
Birds return in a distant flurry.
CLARE’S DAD (30s) steps from the trees -- a face carved from
stone and shadow.
His rifle smokes faintly in his hand.
He walks over to the beast -- nudges it with his boot --
Dead.
Clare doesn’t move.
Blood trickles down her hand, dripping onto pine needles
below.
Her eyes stay locked on the corpse.
Clare’s Dad kneels beside her, one hand firm on her shoulder.
CLARE’S DAD
Never go this deep alone. You’re
not ready yet.
She nods -- barely.
CLARE’S DAD (CONT'D)
These woods. They’ve got rules.
And sometimes, the mountain sends
things to test you.
Her gaze shifts back to the dead lion --
Its jaw hangs slack, but its eyes still seem to watch her.
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Into the Ominous Wilderness
EXT. FOREST TRAIL - DAY (BACK TO PRESENT)
Thick clouds gather over the mountains -- jagged peaks of
shark teeth.
Clare and Jack move in silence -- breath smoking in the cold
air.
Jack moves methodically through the thick underbrush.
The trees grow denser, their branches heavy.
CLARE
You sure you know where you’re
going?
JACK
I was a tracker in the Army for
fifteen years.
CLARE
What's the secret?
JACK
When I can't see the path, I count
to seven and breathe.
CLARE
Simple.
JACK
Yeah, unless what you’re tracking
ends up tracking you.
Jack’s gaze remains fixed ahead.
The mountains loom ominously.
Clare slows down -- eyes narrowing.
Up ahead --
The trees open up into a meadow.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Adventure"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
The Contaminated Meadow
EXT. MEADOW - DAY
Trees thin. Trunks arch like cathedral pillars.
Clare and Jack push through the last row of pines -- stop.
A wide, open meadow unfurls before them --
Once pristine -- now defiled.
Something black stains the ground, spreading outward in veins
and spirals like oil slicks.
The silence is profound.
Clare steps forward first, boots crunching.
Then she sees them --
Dozens of carcasses --
Elk, moose, bear, and wolf -- scattered across the field.
Antlers jut upward like thorns from the ground.
Bodies twist -- inverted -- locked in poses of agony.
Jack moves beside Clare, swallowing hard.
They walk deeper into the clearing.
The air grows heavier -- thick, sweet, metallic.
Clare kneels beside an elk --
Its eyes -- gone -- just sockets filled with a black resin
glistening like tar.
She leans in. The tissue gleams -- wrong.
Jack crouches over another corpse --
The animal’s hide shimmers -- stretched thin, translucent --
like waxed paper.
Underneath, something moves --
A ripple, faint but unmistakable.
JACK
What in the fuck?...
He presses the butt of his knife against the hide --
It yields. Soft. Sponge-like.
A black fluid seeps from the puncture -- sizzling faintly as
it hits the ground.
CLARE
Don’t touch it.
Jack stumbles back.
The smell hits -- sweet and chemical, like burnt sugar mixed
with bleach.
Clare turns, her face lit with horror and awe.
Her gaze catches something further ahead --
A mound of black fur. Huge.
A BLACK BEAR.
She approaches slowly, her shadow stretching across its
massive body.
The torso -- ruptured outward -- bones bending back like a
ribcage forced open from within.
She circles it.
Freezes. Looks down --
The bear has TWO HEADS.
Both half-formed, fused at the neck, one mouth frozen mid-
snarl.
She stares down in mute disbelief.
A crow lands on the bear’s back -- pecking at the exposed
flesh.
Instantly, the bird convulses --
Its wings thrash --
Feathers burst loose in a storm of blood and guts.
Clare’s breath catches.
Then --
A faint shimmer.
From the wound, a cluster of translucent filaments rises --
Slow, deliberate, almost graceful.
They twist upward in spirals -- like smoke made of glass
threads and pollen.
SPORES.
Tiny, golden. Drifting weightless into the cold air.
Jack steps back, instinctively holding his breath.
The particles wobble and scatter, catching sunlight through
the trees.
Clare’s eyes lock on them, horror dawning.
CLARE (CONT'D)
It's airborne.
One of the spores lands on her glove -- etching a dark spot
into the fabric.
Behind her, the wind carries the rest of the spores into the
trees.
SNAP.
A loud crack echoes through the underbrush --
They whirl around, rifles raised --
Only silence. Stillness.
Then --
A DEER steps from the tree line --
It’s gaunt, skin patchy -- fur falling away in strips.
Three grotesque sets of antlers sprout at odd angles --
One curves backward, one juts sideways -- another spirals
into a knotted crown of bone.
Its eyes glow faintly yellow in the dim light.
Its lips peel back slightly, revealing --
Sharp, malformed teeth.
It stares at them. Not afraid. Not curious. Just... wrong.
It takes one slow, deliberate step forward.
Jack steadies his rifle.
The deer twitches violently -- head jerking.
Bones pop under the strain of some invisible force.
Then --
It emits a scream --
Not a bleat, not an animal sound, but a horrific, guttural
human-like WAIL.
The noise ricochets through the forest.
Clare flinches, her hand flying to her ear.
Jack stumbles back, rifle raised, shaken.
The deer lurches, convulses -- then bolts into the trees.
Its twisted antlers crash through branches as it disappears,
leaving silence in its wake.
The clearing goes deathly quiet again.
Jack exhales -- breath shaking.
JACK
That's not a sound nature invented.
Clare looks back at the lake. Mind racing.
CLARE
The infection isn't killing them.
It's rewiring them.
JACK
Whatever it is, it looks like it's
spreading.
CLARE
If something like this reaches the
plains and city, it's "Game Over."
His words hang heavy in the air.
Clare turns toward the ridgeline.
For a split second --
A massive silhouette moves along the crest.
Then it steps back into darkness.
Jack shoulders his pack.
JACK
Come on. We're losing light.
Clare lingers a beat longer -- uneasy.
The clouds darken overhead.
The winter storm presses closer.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Secrets in the Shadows
INT. LOCKWOOD HOUSE – BASEMENT - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
Rain pelts the tin roof. Thunder trembles the wooden
floorboards.
A bare lightbulb flickers overhead as YOUNG CLARE (11) creeps
down the stairs, barefoot, clutching a worn blanket around
her small shoulders.
At the bottom sits a heavy iron door -- cracked.
A faint GLOW pulses from inside.
Clare pushes the door with trembling fingers.
It BURSTS wider -- revealing her father, hunched over a
cluttered workbench.
Vials. Fungal cultures. Old wildlife specimens.
And in the center, a metal lockbox with a stenciled symbol:
BIOHAZARD – U.S. ARMY PROPERTY.
Ray’s shoulders tense.
He turns slowly.
His face: exhausted, pale, lips tremoring.
RAY
Clare?
(choked)
It’s late. You shouldn’t be down
here.
Clare steps in -- small, brave.
YOUNG CLARE
I heard you talking on your radio.
Ray swallows hard, eyes drifting to the lockbox.
RAY
Just... work. Nothing for you to
worry about.
Clare inches closer.
YOUNG CLARE
Are you sick?
He freezes.
He kneels, meets her eye level.
RAY
Sometimes we think we’re curing the
world, when really we’re just
changing it.
Clare doesn’t understand — but she hears the fear under his
words.
Ray gently cups her cheek.
Behind him, the lockbox emits a faint thrum, like a
heartbeat.
The sound pulls Clare’s gaze.
Ray follows her eyes — snaps the box shut with trembling
hands.
He forces a weak smile.
RAY (CONT'D)
Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.
He pushes himself upright — then suddenly doubles over,
coughing into his sleeve, but the sound is strangled, wrong.
He braces against the table, knuckles whitening.
Clare rushes to him.
YOUNG CLARE
Dad!
Ray steadies himself, forcing a breath. His eyes glisten —
not just with pain, but fear he’s trying to hide.
RAY
I’m fine. Just... pushed too hard
today.
He tries to smile but winces as another tremor ripples
through him. He hides it behind a hand.
He places his other hand gently on Clare’s head, brushing her
hair back — a gesture practiced, protective… and desperate.
RAY (CONT'D)
And you --
(soft but stern)
-- you stay out of here, okay?
Clare nods, but she can’t stop staring at the dark stain
spreading across his cuff.
Her father notices. Quickly lowers his arm.
RAY (CONT'D)
Just tired, peanut.
That’s all.
He ushers her out, closing the heavy iron door with a
shuddering clang.
His silhouette lingers behind the glass pane for a moment…
then vanishes into shadow.
A metallic bolt slides into place.
IN THE BASEMENT:
Darkness.
Then a faint throb.
The lockbox pulses again, golden light leaking through the
seams — perfectly synchronized with a deep, distant heartbeat
that does not sound human.
Dust on the shelves trembles.
A glass sample tube glimmers in the dim light.
LABEL:
“RAY LOCKWOOD — BLOOD SAMPLE.”
The liquid inside it shifts, catching the glow — as though
alive.
The heartbeat grows louder.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
The Unseen Threshold
EXT. MOUNTAIN SLOPE – DAY
Storm clouds churn low, smothering the ridgeline. unseen.
Clare and Jack push through snarled underbrush, branches
scraping their jackets, the wind hissing through the pines
like a warning.
They break into a clearing -- a pocket of land carved
unnaturally smooth, as if something once stood here.
Jack slows.
Clare moves ahead, her boots sinking into mud that squelches
with each step. A faint chemical smell burns the air.
There — HALF-BURIED IN THE EARTH —
A rusted steel blast door juts from the hillside, tilted at
an odd angle.
The frame has collapsed inward, the mountain reclaiming it.
Mud and rock spill over its edges.
The faded stencil barely survives:
“U.S. ARMY – ACCESS RESTRICTED.”
Jack stops cold.
JACK
Jesus.
Clare brushes tangled vines aside with her glove, revealing a
cracked, yellowed BIOHAZARD sign, half dissolved by decades
of weather.
Her breath catches -- her lungs tighten. She pulls out her
inhaler and takes a quick, shaky pull.
Jack notices.
JACK (CONT'D)
You okay?
Clare nods, not believing her own answer.
CLARE
Yeah. Just got a weird feeling
about this place.
Jack steps closer, examining the bent doorframe.
Barbed-wire fencing lies collapsed around them -- not cut,
but bowled over, flattened by some massive force.
Pieces of it are tangled in tree trunks, caught like torn
netting after a flood.
JACK
Floods must’ve hit this place hard.
(beat)
Or something else did.
Clare’s gaze sweeps across the ground.
CLARE
Look at the ground.
Jack crouches. The soil near the door is churned violently --
claw marks, deep grooves, something dragged or fought.
JACK
That ain’t erosion.
Clare steps toward the door, running a hand over the dented
steel.
The wind shifts -- carrying a faint, ghostlike wisp of scent.
Her breath catches.
That same acrid, metallic-sweet chemical note hits her --
identical to the morgue. Subtle. Wrong. Unmistakable.
CLARE
Jack... It’s here.
Jack smells it too, a shiver running through him.
JACK
Same as the body.
The breeze dies abruptly -- leaving the air unnaturally
still, as if the place is holding its breath.
Clare presses her shoulder against the warped door, bracing
her feet in the mud.
The metal GROANS, protesting -- a sick, guttural sound like
an old animal waking.
Jack steps up beside her.
JACK (CONT'D)
On three.
Clare nods.
CLARE
One... Two --
The door jerks open before they reach three -- as if
something inside pulled it.
They stumble back.
A wave of cold, stale air spills out -- thick with dust.
The beam from Clare’s flashlight pierces only a few feet
before dissolving into black.
She takes a breath -- a final moment of hesitation.
Then steps across the threshold.
Her flashlight disappears into the dark.
Jack swallows, gripping his rifle.
JACK
(to himself)
I'm getting too old for this...
whatever this is.
He follows her in.
The steel door creaks shut behind them as the storm rumbles
overhead.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Into the Hazardous Abyss
INT. ARSENAL CORRIDOR - DAY
Flashlights cut through the darkness as Jack and Clare step
into the corridor.
Concrete walls sweat with condensation. Rust streaks like
blood down the seams.
Rotted warning placards peel off the walls --
"NO ENTRY – HAZARDOUS MATERIALS."
Clare’s light finds an overturned drum in the corner, its lid
corroded through.
A puddle of oily black liquid stains the floor -- burning
faintly with a rainbow sheen.
The stench of rot and chemicals lingers in the air.
Clare covers her mouth with her sleeve.
Clare shines her beam at the end of the corridor.
The sign above a cracked glass door reads "BIOSAFETY LAB -
LEVEL 4 - ACCESS RESTRICTED."
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Echoes of the Past
INT. BIOSAFETY LAB - DAY
The door swings open to reveal --
A decayed laboratory, half-swallowed by vines and rust.
Jars clouded with sediment line the shelves.
A massive observation window, cracked but intact, overlooks a
containment cell filled with black moss.
CLARE
This used to be a BSL-Four research
lab. The highest level of
biocontainment.
Clare wipes condensation from an old command console.
Jack sweeps his flashlight across a collapsed viewing
station.
JACK
Old school hardware. Pre-digital.
Jack moves to a dusty filing cabinet. Opens it. Inside --
Old lab logbooks.
Jack pulls a water-warped logbook from the file -- mold
creeping along its spine.
He cracks it open. The paper groans.
JACK (CONT'D)
(reads)
“Neural amplification exceeds
baseline projections. Mountain lion
cognition elevated."
(beat)
Jesus, they were experimenting on
animals here...
He flips a page. Eyes scanning fast.
JACK (CONT'D)
They combined human DNA with fungus
to create a virus with no human
transmission possible.”
CLARE
So we're immune. It's not zoonotic.
Jack turns another page --
Jack flips a page.
His breath hitches -- sharp, involuntary.
He stares at the document like it just blinked at him.
JACK
(reading, low)
Lead scientist... Doctor Ray
Lockwood.
The name hangs in the air for a long, heavy beat.
CLARE
That’s my father.
Silence.
Then --
WHISPER-SLICK -- something wet slides past the doorframe.
Too close. Too deliberate.
Jack drops the file — SPLAT — pages scatter like frightened
birds.
They both freeze.
Beyond the cracked observation window --
A silhouette lingers. Hulking. Half-seen.
It shifts.
A fluid, inhuman glide.
Jack reaches for his rifle, motion slow and quiet.
JACK
(low)
We need to move. Now.
Clare doesn’t respond -- she’s still staring at the file,
lips parted.
Genres:
["Thriller","Sci-Fi","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Pursuit in the Shadows
INT. CORRIDOR - MOMENTS LATER
Clare and Jack sprint down the corridor.
Their footsteps echo into the dark.
Above them --
A BULKY, OUTDATED SECURITY CAMERA hangs crookedly from a
rusted bracket.
Its lens -- cracked but functional -- slowly swivels.
A small red LED blinks steadily -- mechanical, indifferent.
The light pulses like a heartbeat. Watching.
From the darkness behind them --
TWO YELLOW EYES ignite. Unblinking.
Then --
The massive creature charges from behind them -- its enormous
limbs echoing like a drumbeat.
Massive claws rake across concrete walls --
Sparks fly.
Another set of eyes flickers behind the first.
Then another.
The corridor shakes with the force of pursuit.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Fleeing the Darkness
EXT. ARSENAL ENTRANCE - MOMENTS LATER
Clare and Jack burst out of the steel door, stumbling into
the open air.
They scramble across the slope, panting, weapons raised.
Behind them --
The dark mouth of the arsenal looms.
Then --
MULTIPLE SETS OF YELLOW EYES IGNITE IN THE DARKNESS.
Not two. Not four. Dozens.
Yellow eyes glow -- shift -- multiplying in the shadows like
a blooming fungus.
A chorus of growls rises -- inhuman -- hungry.
Jack's shoulders tense. Rifle steady.
Then --
They turn, racing down the mountain trail.
The storm breaks overhead --
Snowflakes rain down sideways, carried by the wind.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Storm of Secrets
INT. SHERIFF'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Snow slams against the windows in thick sheets.
Sheriff Bauer sits behind his desk, rolling a toothpick
between his teeth, eyes heavy-lidded but sharp.
Clare and Jack stand across from him -- posture rigid, the
air between them thick with tension.
CLARE
There's a buried arsenal up there,
Sheriff. Start talking.
Sheriff Bauer doesn’t answer right away.
He just stares, long and flat, as if he’s weighing how much
truth she deserves.
He exhales through his nose.
SHERIFF BAUER
Some things don't stay buried. They
wait.
Sheriff Bauer tilts back in his chair. The old wood creaks.
His hand drifts across his desk to an old silver flask.
He unscrews it, takes a slow drink, never breaking eye
contact.
SHERIFF BAUER (CONT'D)
Back in the Cold War, they built
something up there. Army boys
rolled in -- trucks, fences,
floodlights. Said it was "storage
and testing."
(beat)
Then one winter -- they vanished.
No trucks. No men. Just... gone.
Clare stills.
CLARE
Vanished?
Bauer nods -- slow, deliberate.
A flicker of something old in his eyes.
SHERIFF BAUER
Whole damn operation wiped clean
overnight.
JACK
What were they testing?
Bauer shifts his toothpick -- jaw tight.
SHERIFF BAUER
Nobody ever said. But people
talked. Said there was a breach.
Something got out. Then the Army
sealed the place and hauled what
was left to NORAD -- thirty miles
east of here.
Clare frowns.
CLARE
And nobody’s been up there since?
Bauer lets the toothpick fall --
It lands with a soft tick against the table.
SHERIFF BAUER
Depends on what you mean by
"nobody." Every few months... black
trucks come through. No plates.
Always at night. Like they're
checking to make sure the site
stays sterilized or something.
Clare and Jack exchange a look, unsettled.
The wind screams outside --
Windows tremble like they might shatter.
The lights flicker...
Then DIE.
The fire becomes the only light, throwing wild shadows across
their faces.
JACK
(under breath)
And there goes the power.
The office is swallowed in silence, except for the wind
tearing at the building.
Clare clicks on her radio -- static.
She pulls out her cell phone -- no service.
Jack checks his phone. Nothing. They turn toward Sheriff
Bauer.
SHERIFF BAUER
Storm’s taken the lines. We're on
our own now.
A powerful gust shudders the entire building.
Then --
A sound rises under the storm. Low. Guttural. A growl. Not
close, not far. Moving.
Jack grips his rifle tighter, scans the window...
The growl echoes again, closer now.
A chorus of branches snap in the dark.
Clare takes a step toward the window -- stops short when she
sees Sheriff Bauer’s face -- not surprised.
He’s pale, jaw set, eyes locked on the storm outside -- like
he’s been waiting for this night for a long time.
SHERIFF BAUER (CONT'D)
Folks around here talk about the
spirits in the mountains, warning
us to stay out. But I think maybe
the spirits were never the
problem... Maybe it was us all
along.
CLARE
Superstition may comfort you,
Sheriff, but it doesn't make it
science.
SHERIFF BAUER
Keep your science. The mountains...
they've got a long memory. And
sometimes they send things back
that we're not ready for.
Sheriff Bauer grabs his twelve-gauge from behind the desk,
racking it with a metallic snap.
SHERIFF BAUER (CONT'D)
The diner’s got backup generators.
We can hole up there till mornin.
Jack exhales, chambers his rifle.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Night of the Beast
EXT. SHERIFF’S OFFICE - NIGHT
The storm rages, a howling whiteout devouring the street.
Snow blasts sideways in violent sheets.
Clare, Jack, and Sheriff Bauer burst from the office, rifles
clutched tight.
Their boots sink into drifts, breath fogging instantly in the
frozen air.
JACK
Don’t lose sight of me!
They push forward, bent against the gale.
The diner’s neon sign glows faintly through the storm --
A trembling red beacon half-swallowed by snow.
From above --
A low, guttural GROWL cuts through the wind. Almost human.
Clare freezes -- whips her rifle around.
Snow whirls so thick it blinds her -- nothing but white.
Then --
A MASSIVE SHADOW LAUNCHES FROM THE ROOFTOP
A shadowy beast pounces on Sheriff Bauer in a flash --
sending him through the air.
The beast’s razor claws tear into his throat --
His body collapses to the snowy ground --
The twelve-gauge spins -- vanishing into the blizzard.
The beast pins him --
Its claws elongate into barbed hooks -- then drive through
his chest --
The snow beneath him flowers red in an instant.
Clare and Jack whip up their rifles.
BANG! BANG!
Muzzle flashes strobe the storm.
Both rounds hit the beast -- blood mist bursts into the snow.
But the beast barely flinches.
Its head tilts unnaturally, neck bones popping --
It fixates on Clare -- staring.
Sheriff Bauer thrashes beneath it, blood pouring from his
wounds.
SHERIFF BAUER
(choking)
Help -- help me.
The beast ROARS, the sound splitting the night like a
thunderclap.
Its claws rake downward --
Splitting Sheriff Bauer’s coat, flesh, and ribs in one
effortless motion --
Blood sprays across the snow in arcs, steaming in the cold.
His scream curdles into a bubbling gurgle.
The beast lowers its head -- bites into his skull with a wet,
horrifying CRUNCH.
A toothpick falls into the snow, stained red.
Then --
Stillness.
Clare’s hands shake on the rifle.
Her breath catches in her throat, eyes wide with shock.
Jack grabs her arm, yanks it hard.
JACK
He’s gone! He’s gone -- let's move!
The beast lifts its gore-slicked muzzle, releasing a low,
resonant growl.
From the swirling white all around them, other growls answer.
Shadows shift in the blizzard.
Yellow eyes ignite in the dark.
Clare and Jack sprint toward the diner’s flickering neon glow
-- their figures swallowed by the storm.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Night of the Mountain Lions
INT. DINER - NIGHT
The door slams open -- wind howls in, carrying flurries of
snow.
Clare and Jack stumble inside, soaked, pale, streaked with
blood.
The door whips behind them -- they throw their weight into it
-- forcing it closed.
Sandy freezes mid-pour behind the counter, where Walter sits.
BILL (60s), broad, scarred, whiskey in hand, looks up from
his booth in the corner.
SANDY
You two look like you saw the devil
and shook his hand.
CLARE
Lock all the doors. Now.
The words hang in the air like smoke.
Bill chuckles darkly, shaking his head.
BILL
Storm spooked you that bad? Hell,
girl, it’s just weather.
Jack slams a bloodied hand on the counter with a sick SPLAT.
Cups rattle. The room stills.
JACK
Sheriff Bauer’s dead.
A silence falls. Deep. Suffocating.
SANDY
How?
Clare hesitates, eyes darting to Jack.
CLARE
Mountain lion. But not the kind you
know.
A shadow passes over the frosted window -- massive, fluid,
predatory.
BILL
I've hunted much worse than a rogue
mountain lion. They bleed and die
just like us, sweetheart.
The fluorescent lights flicker, buzz, then dim.
The diner hums with static and tension.
THUD.
The wall shudders.
Cups jump -- silverware clinks.
SANDY
(whisper)
What was that?
THUD.
Then --
A slow, dragging scrape -- metal against metal -- moves down
the outer wall. Deliberate. Patient.
Jack raises his rifle.
Sandy bolts the doors.
Bill mutters curses under his breath -- doesn't move from his
booth.
Walter drags a chair, wedges it beneath a window.
Through the frost --
Two yellow eyes glow faintly, moving along the window like
lanterns in fog.
Then --
The lights DIE.
BLACKOUT.
The hum of electricity disappears.
Silence hangs heavy.
Then --
CLICK.
A lighter flickers in Jack’s hand -- the small flame
illuminating his hard features.
JACK
Stay silent. Don't move.
The lighter's flame quivers as he steps forward.
Somewhere in the dark --
A fork drops.
The metallic sound is deafening.
The kitchen door cracks open just an inch.
A draft of cold air snakes through.
Snowflakes scatter across the floor.
Then --
SHHHK.
A scrape against the window glass.
For an instant -- three sets of glowing yellow eyes appear in
the window.
Then darkness swallows them.
Clare raises her rifle.
Jack edges toward the kitchen door, rifle raised, lighter
trembling.
Through the kitchen door’s crack --
A faint shimmer of fur and the sound of wet breathing.
Then --
The flame flickers out --
Darkness consumes the room.
Then --
The sound of something dragging metal. Slow. Heavy.
Jack sparks the lighter again, revealing --
A crouched shape, enormous -- hunched between steel racks.
Its maw glistens with teeth dripping black saliva.
It looks up --
The lighter dies again --
Darkness.
Silence.
Stillness.
Then --
The beast bursts from the kitchen in an explosion of motion.
Jack fires --
BOOM!
The blast blows apart the pie carousel --
Glass rains down.
The beast slams into a booth near Bill --
Claws carve through vinyl and wood like tissue.
Bill sits still. Silent.
Then unsheathes a large hunting knife.
He stands up --
Lunges for the beast -- plunging the knife into the
creature’s haunch.
The beast ROARS.
It swipes once -- catching Bill’s arm.
Bill’s body slams into the wall -- arm hanging by threads of
flesh.
SANDY
Oh my God!
Clare fires --
BOOM!
The round hits -- the creature’s shoulder bursts in black
spray.
Before the beast can react --
Jack grabs a fire extinguisher -- unleashes a blizzard of
white --
The lion reels, momentarily blinded, its tail whipping,
smashing cups and plates.
CLARE
Get behind the counter!
Sandy sobs into her sleeve as she and Walter crawl behind the
counter.
The room falls silent. Still.
Then --
THUMP.
From above.
Snow falls from the rafters.
THUMP. THUMP.
JACK
Shit. They’re on the roof.
The ceiling groans.
Beams SNAP.
Suddenly --
A LION crashes down in a blur of SNOW AND CLAWS.
Then --
Another LION crashes down from above.
WALTER
We can’t stay here! We need to go
to the old mine tunnel. It’s just
past the gas station.
Bill groans in the wrecked booth, half-conscious, blood
seeping from his shattered arm.
BILL
He’s right. The mine tunnel ends at
the radio tower, where you can call
for help.
Clare and Jack exchange a grim, wordless look.
Jack reloads.
JACK
Time to go then.
The lions pace in the shadows.
BILL
Leave me --
-- In a flash, a lion pounces on him, engulfing him in one
brutal SNAP.
Bone cracks -- blood spraying the glass.
CLARE
Run!
Jack hurls a chair toward the beast. Firing as he moves --
BOOM! BOOM!
The blast blows out the front window --
Cold rushes in -- the neon “OPEN” sign flickers like a dying
heart.
They shove through it, Sandy and Walter first, Clare and Jack
behind.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
The Awakening of the Alpha
EXT. MAIN STREET - NIGHT
The group bursts from the broken window into the whiteout
storm.
Wind shrieks like a banshee, snow blinding.
Jack shoves Sandy and Walter ahead of him, rifle raised.
Clare freezes mid-step.
Cold sinks into her bones -- not from snow, but from
something darker.
She turns slowly -- back toward the diner...
Then we see it --
Through the blowing snow and flickering neon haze --
THE ALPHA.
Towering. Primeval. Wrong.
Vast as a transport truck. Waiting like a judgment.
Molten gold eyes burn through the blizzard.
Its head -- crowned with BUFFALO HORNS -- flashes red from
the dying neon sign.
Its fur writhes in the wind --
A shifting tapestry of shadow and sinew stitched from
nightmares.
A cauterized surgical incision runs vertically down its
chest, sealed with metal sutures -- half-rusted.
The beast lifts its head --
Time stops.
The air grows thick. Heavy.
Snow hangs mid-fall.
Then --
The Alpha ROARS.
Windows SHATTER.
The neon sign DETONATES, flaring like a dying star.
Glass rains down in fire-laced shards.
From the broken windows of the diner --
LIONS SPILL OUT.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Into the Darkness
EXT. GAS STATION - NIGHT
The group stumbles past the dark, snow-buried pumps.
Walter points with his lantern.
WALTER
Tunnel’s just down the hill!
The group pushes deeper into drifts.
From the rooftops --
SHADOWS lunge -- lions bounding across snow-laden beams like
specters.
EXT. MINE - ENTRANCE - NIGHT
Snow tears sideways in jagged gusts.
They reach a cave-like mouth in the mountain -- looming like
a forgotten tomb.
A deep THUD echoes from inside. Faint. Distant.
Sandy whimpers.
Walter steps forward, holding the lantern, and disappears
into the darkness.
One by one, the others follow.
Clare is last.
She looks back toward the snowstorm --
Several faint, yellow eyes glimmer between the trees.
Watching.
Waiting.
Clare exhales, steady.
Then steps into the mine --
Darkness closes around her.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Into the Depths of Danger
INT. MINE ENTRANCE - NIGHT
The noise of the storm fades -- replaced by the rhythmic drip
of melting snow and the distant groan of ancient beams.
Drip... Drip... Drip...
Clare leans against a wall, catching her breath.
Her body shakes, eyes unfocused -- half adrenaline, half
shock.
Jack kneels near the entrance, checking his rifle, hands
trembling.
The tunnel breathes --
Alive. Watching.
Mineral veins shimmer faintly along the walls -- streaks of
light woven into ancient stone.
A loud CRACK echoes from deeper in the mine -- just a beam
settling... maybe.
The sound fades.
WALTER
This mine runs deep -- two miles or
more. Cuts all the way to the old
Army radio tower on the south
ridge.
(beat)
The only way out.
JACK
You know these tunnels?
WALTER
I was a security guard for a mining
operation active here thirty years
ago. I know these tunnels well.
CLARE
We don't have much time. If the
wildlife contamination spreads
beyond the mountain, entire
populations are in danger.
Jack nods -- solemn.
JACK
Then let's move.
Jack shoulders his rifle.
Sandy nods, barely.
Somewhere deep below --
The earth groans.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Dangerous Discoveries
EXT. MINE TUNNEL - NIGHT
The air is heavy, dense with dust and something metallic.
Clare's beam falls on a half-buried wooden crate, swollen
with rot and webbing.
The faded lettering is barely visible --
“DANGER - EXPLOSIVES.”
Jack crouches beside her, brushing away grime.
Clare pries the lid open with a rusted crowbar -- the wood
splinters --
Inside --
Sticks of dynamite, wax casings bloated with age.
SANDY
You sure that stuff won't take us
with it?
CLARE
Safe's not the goal. The boom is.
Jack sniffs one -- grimaces.
JACK
Sweating nitro -- she's volatile,
but alive.
Clare and Jack carefully place three dynamite sticks inside
each of their backpacks.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
The Heart of the Mountain
INT. MINE CHAMBER - NIGHT
The tunnel widens into a massive chamber --
Walls streaked with black residue glimmer faintly gold under
the lantern light.
Clare stops dead --
Dozens of ELK CARCASSES sprawl across the floor --
Frozen mid-motion, as if they’d collapsed in agony at once.
Their eyes are milky white.
Their flesh is bloated -- streaked with strange ridges
beneath the hide.
Sandy clutches her chest.
Jack steps forward, his boots crunching bones buried in the
dirt.
He kneels beside one elk -- its ribcage caved outward -- bone
splintering out like spears.
The flesh around the wound -- black and webbed -- pulses
faintly beneath the skin.
Walter’s lantern flame elongates -- bending toward the center
of the chamber.
Clare follows the light --
Then she sees it --
A MOUND of fused corpses -- elk, deer, bears -- melded
together by hardened sinew and bone.
They twist into a pulsating mass -- the size of a small
house.
It breathes.
The group stares, paralyzed by awe and horror.
The MOUND's surface ripples, wet and glistening.
Antlers and limbs jut out at impossible angles.
Beneath the translucent tissue --
Shapes move -- something alive inside.
A POP echoes --
One of the bodies shifts.
A jaw falls open, releasing a hiss of fetid air.
Walter stumbles backward, clutching his chest.
Clare steps closer, her breath fogging the air.
Her eyes go distant -- scientific instinct warring with
primal terror.
CLARE
The heart of the mountain. A
hive... one mind, a thousand nodes.
Her flashlight trembles in her hand.
She leans closer.
Beneath the tissue, something moves --
A thick root-like tendril presses upward through flesh --
toward the surface.
It breaks through with a wet snap --
Black fluid spills out, reeking of metal and decay.
Clare staggers back.
The ground shakes.
The MOUND shudders -- SPLITS open --
Inside --
Hundreds of tangled sinewy cords pulse like veins, threading
through carcasses.
Glowing veins extend outward -- through the rock -- as if
feeding the entire mountain.
The chamber trembles.
An elk twitches -- head jerking, mouth opening in a soundless
cry.
Then another.
And another.
Their limbs spasm -- cracking bones, rising like marionettes.
The MOUND exhales -- a hot, wet breath.
Tiny spores drift into the air -- shimmering like golden
dust, floating toward Clare.
She inhales sharply --
Her pupils dilate -- the world tilts...
Sound distorts...
WHISPERS stretch into deep, distorted echoes.
A heartbeat -- not hers -- throbs in her ears.
Through the haze --
Her father stands across the chamber, smiling faintly.
CLARE’S DAD (V.O.)
The tree remembers what the axe
forgets.
She blinks --
He’s gone.
Jack’s shouts, distant -- muffled --
He pulls Clare back.
JACK
Don’t breathe that in!
Clare coughs, choking -- black residue on her lips.
Her flashlight beam catches movement --
Tendrils retract, sliding back into the earth like serpents.
The MOUND shudders, as if retreating.
Jack drags Clare away.
The chamber shakes.
The ceiling groans -- cracks, raining dust and ice.
The roar of shifting rock and snapping timber chases them
like thunder.
Clare stumbles, dizzy -- her vision swimming in a faint
golden haze.
Jack hauls her forward, shouting over the noise.
JACK (CONT'D)
Don’t stop moving!
The MOUND’s heart pulses, faster and faster.
The group runs full tilt -- coughing, stumbling, lights
slicing through smoke and dust.
From somewhere in the mine tunnel --
A ROAR -- a sound deeper than thunder, shakes the earth.
Genres:
["Horror","Sci-Fi","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
Whispers in the Dark
INT. MINE TUNNEL – NIGHT
The group rounds a bend. The tunnel forks.
LEFT: A sharp descent into black.
RIGHT: A narrow ascent, wind whispering faintly through.
JACK
Which way?
He turns to Walter -- but he's gone.
Just Clare and Sandy remain. Both breathing hard, pale.
CLARE
He was right behind me...
Her voice fades. Her pupils dilate slightly—too wide.
She turns her face toward the stone.
JACK
Clare?
She places her hand on the wall.
CLOSE ON: Her fingers twitch slightly -- feeling a pulse.
Not hers. Not human.
A faint HUM trembles in the stone.
The wall whispers. Something ancient. Curious.
Clare closes her eyes.
FLASH-CUT
-- Her father’s silhouette, bathed in fungal light.
-- An elk’s eye, pupil wide and golden.
-- A memory not her own: the mountain roaring with joy.
She gasps, pulling back -- staggering.
JACK (CONT'D)
Clare! Talk to me. What’s
happening?
CLARE (SNAPPING OUT OF IT)
I -- I’m fine.
She shakes it off, eyes clearer now, jaw clenched.
Then points:
CLARE (CONT'D)
Right. there’s a fracture in it. We
can get through.
Jack stares at her.
JACK
You sure?
CLARE
No.
(beat)
But I can feel it.
Sandy backs away slightly.
Jack watches her -- uncertain. Then lifts his rifle. Nods.
JACK
Right it is.
They push forward.
Clare lingers -- places one hand on the tunnel wall.
The pulse in the stone meets her palm -- soft... like a
greeting.
She breathes in.
Her breath fogs slightly gold.
Then she follows them into the dark.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
The Grasp of Darkness
INT. MINE TUNNEL - NIGHT
The group goes deeper.
The tunnel expands -- walls pushing outward, as if inhaling.
Then --
A violent exhale.
Suddenly --
CRACK!
A JAGGED, BONE-LIKE SPEAR EXPLODES through the tunnel wall
with a nauseating crack —
IMPALING Sandy through her lower abdomen, lifting her clean
off the ground.
Blood sheets down her legs.
Her eyes widen in shock, then fear -- then pain.
JACK
Sandy!
Jack whirls, rifle snapping up.
BOOM! BOOM!
Muzzle flashes strobe the tunnel — violent pulses of orange.
Bullets spark harmlessly against the living stone.
The bone spear doesn’t budge.
Sandy convulses, hanging there.
Clare lunges to her -- catching her hand.
CLARE
No -- Sandy, look at me. Look at
me.
Sandy’s gaze flicks to hers -- wet, terrified, searching
Clare’s face like she might find hope there.
Blood trickles from her lips, staining her teeth red.
SANDY
(bare whisper)
Clare... please...
CLARE
I’ve got you. I’ve got you, I’ve
got you --
The bone inside Sandy twitches, twisting.
Sandy’s whole body jerks, a strangled cry escaping her.
The tunnel walls RIPPLE, stone softening into muscle -- the
mountain coming alive around them.
The bone rears back and YANKS.
Sandy jerks forward -- half her torso already swallowed by
the mountain’s flexing maw.
Her free hand reaches out -- trembling, clawing at the air.
CLARE (CONT'D)
No -- NO!
She grabs Sandy’s arm with both hands, bracing her boots in
the dirt.
SANDY
(through panic)
Don’t let go -- Please -- don’t --
CLARE
I won’t!
Clare pulls with everything she has -- shoulders shaking,
teeth gritted.
The wall tightens -- a muscular contraction.
Sandy’s arm stretches, tendons straining, as if the mountain
is pulling her soul out through her fingertips.
JACK
Clare -- let her go! You’ll get
pulled in!
Clare doesn’t hear him.
CLARE
Sandy -- SANDY --
And then --
A final, brutal jerk.
Sandy is wrenched from Clare’s grasp -- disappearing into the
living stone, sucked in with a wet, organic gulp.
The wall seals itself instantly -- smoothing over until there
is no trace she was ever there.
No blood.
No bone.
Just silence.
Then -- slowly -- a single object pushes through a hairline
crack in the rock.
Sandy’s scarf.
Blood-soaked. Torn.
Still warm.
It flutters down like dying embers and lands at Clare’s boot.
Clare stares, hollow.
Her hand trembles as she reaches down and lifts it, folding
it into her palm like something sacred.
Her jaw quivers.
Her eyes shine -- filling, breaking, overflowing.
Silent.
Something inside her collapsing in the dark.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
Descent into Darkness
INT. MINE SHAFT COVE - NIGHT
Dust floats in the air like ash.
Jack and Clare wedge themselves into a narrow stone recess --
A dead-end crevice, half-collapsed and barely wide enough to
breathe.
The walls sweat. Water drips through the ceiling; the sound
is rhythmic, like an organic clock.
Drip... Drip... Drip...
Clare sits hunched, her back to the wall, shivering.
Her arms hug her chest. Her breath stutters, catching in her
throat.
Jack kneels beside her, reloading his rifle with hands that
aren’t steady anymore.
CLARE
How deep do you think we are?
JACK
Too deep to matter.
(beat)
It’s just pressure now. Earth
pressing in like it wants you back.
Clare gives a shaky laugh, more a breath than a sound.
CLARE
You make everything sound biblical.
JACK
Everything down here is.
A long silence. The kind that listens back.
CLARE
I used to think silence meant
safety. Now it just sounds...
hungry.
Jack turns his eyes toward her -- really looking now.
JACK
You ever prayed, Clare?
CLARE
Not since I was a kid. I used to
think faith’s what people cling to
when science stops making sense.
(beat)
Now... I'm not so sure which one's
lying to me.
JACK
Maybe faith’s not about truth.
Maybe it’s the thing that lets you
keep walking when both of them go
quiet.
Clare looks at him -- the flickering lantern paints his face
in amber and shadow.
CLARE
Jack... I’m infected.
JACK
How do you know?
CLARE
The vision. The pulse.
(beat)
But I feel it inside. Something...
Jack closes his eyes -- doesn’t flinch -- doesn’t doubt.
Clare lets it sink in.
JACK
You're not immune. Your DNA in the
binding agent must have triggered
something.
CLARE
It's like I can feel the mountain.
The hive. The Alpha.
Her jaw tightens. Eyes glassy.
JACK
Maybe it's not too late. If the
Alpha is the neural anchor, and the
hive needs air to breathe -- we can
sever the connection.
Jack takes off his backpack, unzips it to reveal two sticks
of dynamite.
The mountain groans softly -- distant, yet intimate.
Clare grips the stone behind her --
The wall pulses -- subtly -- as if it’s breathing beneath her
skin.
CLARE
Use the dynamite to create an
avalanche and bury it deep enough
to break the signal.
Jack nods -- removes his cross necklace.
He holds it for a moment, then presses it into Clare's palm.
JACK
In case you forget which parts of
you are still human.
Their fingers linger -- close enough to feel each other’s
heat in the cold.
Then --
A distant GROWL echoes from the tunnel --
Low. Guttural. Like something exhaling wet breath through
hollow lungs.
They freeze.
Jack tightens his grip on the rifle -- knuckles pale.
A second growl. Closer. Throaty.
Something massive shifts in the dark beyond their cove.
Two yellow eyes ignite in the dark --
They rush from the cove -- swallowed by blackness, footsteps
pounding like a heartbeat.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
Descent into Darkness
INT. ESCAPE HATCH - NIGHT
The tunnel trembles with the distant roar of lions, echoing
like thunder through bone.
Jack and Clare reach the base of a rusted ladder.
It climbs upward -- a relic bolted into the stone.
JACK
Climb. Go!
Clare hesitates -- then climbs.
Her slick, trembling hands grip each rung.
Jack follows.
Every step creaks.
The air tastes of rust and blood.
The roars grow closer.
Something moves below --
Fast. Heavy. Alive.
A low growl rolls up the tunnel, vibrating through the metal
ladder.
Clare looks down --
Yellow eyes bloom in the dark. Dozens. Watching. Advancing.
JACK (CONT'D)
Don’t look down. Just go!
Clare climbs harder, boots scraping steel.
Jack’s flashlight swings wildly -- the beam slicing over
shapes in the dark --
Sinew. Claws. Teeth flashing wet.
Then --
A lion leaps --
It hits Jack mid-ladder -- raking its claws deep across the
back of his legs.
Blood spatters the rungs.
JACK (CONT'D)
Faster, Clare!
Clare reaches the hatch, tries to pry it open --
It won't budge.
It's frozen -- sealed by ice.
CLARE
Come on!
Clare pounds the hatch with every muscle in her body.
Jack looks down --
The lion below him crouches again -- shoulders twitching,
ready to leap.
Another lion prowls behind it --
Tail flicking, jaws gnashing in anticipation.
He releases one hand and pulls a knife from his belt.
The first lion lunges --
Jack drives the knife into its skull as it collides with him -
-
The impact slams him against the ladder.
Bone cracks.
The lion’s momentum tears the blade free, tearing Jack with
it.
He loses his grip --
SLAMS backward, spine-first --
Falling into the nest below --
CLARE (CONT'D)
Jack!
The tunnel erupts in a cyclone of snarls --
A dozen YELLOW EYES blink open at once.
The swarm collapses in on him, a blur of fur and claws.
Clare can only watch -- helpless -- through a veil of dust
and blood spray.
Claws rake across Jack’s ribs.
Teeth sink into tendons.
His boots kick, slipping in crimson.
He fights, snarling back at them like one of their own --
then rips a stick of dynamite from his backpack.
Fumbling. Bleeding. Teeth at his throat.
He pulls a lighter from his pocket -- lights the fuse --
HISS.
JACK
"And fear not them which kill the
body, they are not able to kill the
soul."
His arm flails upward, the dynamite in one hand, the other
bloodied, trembling.
JACK (CONT'D)
(rasping)
Bury it, Clare.
SNAP.
His arm breaks sideways --
Sucked down into the maelstrom of flesh.
BOOM!
The blast hits like a freight train --
The tunnel walls shudder -- the hatch quakes.
A roar of flame and ruptured meat swells beneath her.
Clare slams her shoulder against the hatch harder -- once --
twice --
CRACK!
The hatch splits open -- a shaft of moonlight cuts through
the dark.
Sharp. Silver. Cold.
She gasps, crawls upward.
Genres:
["Horror","Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Into the Blizzard
EXT. MOUNTAIN WILDERNESS - NIGHT
A whiteout blizzard rages -- snow tears sideways like knives.
Clare slams the hatch closed behind her --
She collapses into the snow -- gasping. Grieving.
Her breath clouds the air, each exhale laced with a faint,
unnatural golden shimmer.
Beneath her, the mountain shudders --
Alive.
A low, rhythmic thrum pulses up through the ice and stone,
like a sleeping beast shifting in its sleep.
CLARE
Jack...
She leans forward, pressing her forehead into the snow,
muffling a ragged sob.
She turns her head, still half-buried in snow, and stares
back at the sealed hatch.
Her hands tremble as she holds them out in front of her.
Tiny black veins pulse beneath the surface, threading like
roots. Foreign. Wrong.
She watches in silence.
She grips Jack’s cross necklace, now around her neck --
fingers curled around it like a lifeline.
JACK (V.O.)
When I can't see the path, I count
to seven and breathe...
CLARE
One... Two. Three --
Clare rises. Not steady. Not whole. But upright.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Four, five, six, seven.
She takes a deep breath and turns, limping into the
snowstorm, the night swallowing her silhouette.
Her breath trails behind in golden clouds.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
Descent into Silence
EXT. MOUNTAIN CLEARING - NIGHT
Clare emerges into an unnaturally flat expanse -- a frozen
lake buried beneath drifts.
Her flashlight beam cuts through flurries, its weak cone
swallowed by the storm.
She coughs violently, doubling over -- one hand pressed to
her chest.
Her breathing wet now -- rattles with fluid.
She looks at her hands --
Veins glow along her wrist. A faint yellow pulses beneath her
skin.
Clare stares at her hands, horrified.
The wind gusts violently.
She trudges forward, ice groaning under her boots.
Up ahead --
THE RADIO TOWER.
Skeletal, half-encased in frost, cables whipping like snakes
in the wind.
Clare crawls toward it, her hands leaving bloody handprints
in the snow that glow faintly yellow before fading.
Her breath slows.
The storm howls.
Then fades.
Silence.
Weightless.
White.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
Nightmare on the Mountain
EXT. MOUNTAIN RIDGE - NIGHT (DREAM SEQUENCE)
Clare opens her eyes.
She’s ten years old, bundled in a red winter coat, her small
hand clasped in her father’s.
They stand on a high, snow-covered ridge.
The world is breathtaking --
Frozen peaks glowing under a violet aurora.
The air feels clean, sacred.
Her father -- younger, in his army parka -- looks down at
her, warm and alive, his breath fogging in the twilight.
CLARES FATHER
(soft, proud)
You see, Clare? This is what we
made. Let me show you.
He starts walking ahead, leading her up through the snow.
Clare hesitates -- something feels wrong.
Each step she takes, the snow deepens.
Her small boots sink until she can barely move.
CLARES FATHER (CONT'D)
Come on, kiddo. Don’t fall behind.
She tugs at his hand -- but his grip feels different --
Harder.
Clawed.
Clare looks down --
The hand she holds isn’t human --
It’s rough, veined, covered in patches of fur and cracked
hide.
She looks up --
Her father’s parka hood whips back, the fabric snapping in
the gale --
Then she sees it --
His face -- a ruin of man and beast --
Half-human, half-lion -- the merge imperfect, horrifying.
Golden eyes burn beneath the hood, molten and wild, pupils
quivering like candle flames in a draft.
His lips pull wide --
Teeth spill past the edges of his mouth --
Too many, too sharp, glistening like wet glass in moonlight.
Clare stumbles backward --
The ridge beneath her feet starts to move.
The snow ripples -- the mountain breathes, pulses.
Black veins spiderweb beneath the surface, glowing faintly
like embers.
The horizon bends.
Her father’s shape towers now, spine arched, limbs distorting
--
Then --
The mountain splits open.
A roar shakes the sky.
Clare SCREAMS.
END DREAM SEQUENCE
Genres:
["Horror","Fantasy","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
Climbing the Abyss
EXT. RADIO TOWER - NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
Clare jerks awake, gasping, clinging to the bottom rung of
the tower ladder.
The tower looms above, skeletal and endless.
She blinks, trying to shake the dream --
But her fingers tremble unnaturally, twitching with delayed
spasms.
Black veins pulse faintly beneath her skin.
She looks at her hand --
The faintest trace of dark fur clings to her palm before the
snow melts it away.
Clare pushes herself up, body shaking.
Her face hardens -- half fear, half resolve.
She climbs.
The mountain hums beneath her -- a deep, living vibration.
Snow drifts swirl around her like ghosts.
Her breath glows faint gold in the dark.
She climbs faster, the infection pulsing through her veins
like molten light.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Fantasy"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
Echoes of Despair
INT. RADIO ROOM - NIGHT
The air is thin. Cold. Heavy with rust and mold.
Clare squeezes into the narrow space --
A single metal chair sits in front of a battered radio unit.
She brushes snow and grime from the control panel, revealing
faded stenciling --
“U.S. ARMY - EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM”
The radio -- a clunky relic from another era -- all knobs, no
screens.
A cracked frequency dial glows faintly orange.
She hesitates. Takes a breath. Flips the toggle.
The unit hums to life -- low, guttural -- like the mountain
itself is listening.
Clare leans forward into the mic.
CLARE
This is CPW Officer Clare Lockwood
requesting emergency evac from the
Black Ridge radio tower.
I repeat -- emergency evac.
A hiss of static fills the air.
Then --
A cold, mechanical voice crackles through, distorted by
distance.
MILITARY OPERATOR (V.O.)
Copy that, Officer Lockwood. Help
is on the way. Stay where you are.
The sound of her name through the static feels alien --
distant, wrong.
CLARE
Who is this? What -- what unit?
MILITARY OPERATOR (V.O.)
Hold your position. Do not attempt
to leave the area.
The radio clicks dead.
Clare’s trembling hand lowers the mic.
The light on the console flickers red -- then goes black.
Silence.
The static breathes -- in, out -- like lungs.
A voice bleeds through --
CLARE’S DAD (V.O.)
It’s alive, Clare. Everything up
here is.
The words echo inside her skull.
They swirl in the static -- overlapping, whispering.
Children laughing. A wolf’s growl. Her father’s cough.
She grabs the radio, trembling with rage and fear -- hurls it
against the wall with a sharp, guttural cry --
It explodes on impact -- shattering into shards.
Instant silence.
The voices -- gone.
Clare stares at what's left of the radio.
Her breath stutters.
Tears come -- quiet, as if she's afraid the mountain might
hear.
A raw sob tears out before she can stop it.
She sinks to her knees. Shoulders shaking.
She bites her lip to keep from screaming.
Then --
Stillness.
She stands up.
Slow inhale... Slow exhale...
Her spine straightens -- eyes sharpen.
Not broken. Hardened.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
40 -
Connection in the Blizzard
EXT. MOUNTAIN CLEARING - NIGHT
Through the blizzard, FOUR FIGURES EMERGE --
HAZMAT SOLDIERS, faceless behind matte-black helmets, rifles
raised.
Their movements are unnervingly precise --
No shouts. No hand signals.
Their headlamps sweep long, inquisitive arcs over the
clearing.
Behind them, walking slower... more deliberate...
WALTER.
He wears the same black hazmat suit, but his helmet hangs at
his side.
His weathered face gleams dull red in the hazard lights.
Purposeful.
Measured.
In command.
INT. RADIO ROOM
Clare crouches behind the window, breathing hard.
Her veins glow beneath the skin, -- pulsing, throbbing.
Walter pauses.
His eyes lift.
He looks directly at Clare.
Something inside Clare LURCHES -- a magnetic drag as her
infection resonates with his memories, his fear, his past.
Clare’s pupils dilate to gold.
She gasps as the world around her FALLS AWAY --
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
41 -
Into the Abyss
INT. ARSENAL – NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
Black smoke CHOKES the air. Sirens wail an unending, metallic
scream.
Emergency lights pulse bloody red down narrow concrete
corridors.
Three YOUNG ARMY SOLDIERS move through the fog -- WALTER
(20s) at point, clutching a service rifle. His face is
smoother, eyes younger but terrified.
Two soldiers flank him — CARTER and JONES — masks on,
coughing through filters.
A crackling radio spits static.
RADIO (V.O.)
Containment breach… sector four
compromised... all personnel
evacuate --
The message dies in static.
They press on, boots splashing through pools of dark liquid.
ALPHA’S ROAR thunders from deep within the facility — not
fully lion, not fully anything human, a sound that punches
into the gut.
Carter freezes.
CARTER
Jesus -- what is that?
WALTER (YOUNG)
(shaking)
Just keep moving.
He doesn’t believe it. None of them do.
The smoke thickens. Shapes flicker in the haze.
Then --
JONES IS YANKED INTO THE DARK, screaming.
Just gone.
WALTER (YOUNG) (CONT'D)
Jones! JONES!
Carter fires wildly into the black.
CARTER
I can’t see him -- Walter, I can’t -
-
A WHIP-LIKE shadow lashes across the frame.
Carter’s scream is cut short as something enormous slams him
backward into the smoke.
Walter stands alone.
The corridor stretches before him like the throat of some
dying beast.
He raises his rifle -- hands shaking -- moves deeper.
Another ROAR shakes dust from the ceiling.
Walter rounds a corner --
And stops dead.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
42 -
Descent into Chaos
INT. ALPHA LAB – CONTINUOUS (FLASHBACK)
Sparks fall from broken conduits.
Glass tanks lie shattered.
Biohazard seals burn away like paper.
In the center of the room lies RAY -- lab coat torn, blood
pooling beneath him.
His side is ripped open by a massive bite.
Behind him --
A cracked containment chamber. Inside it --
A shifting, sinewed mass of organs, bone, and shadow --
pulsing with a golden glow.
Walter shifts his gaze back to Clare’s father.
He’s breathing -- barely.
Walter steps forward, stunned.
WALTER
Doctor Lockwood, what the hell
happened? What do I do?
Ray forces his eyes open.
Recognition flickers -- pain, sorrow, warning.
He tries to speak. Blood trickles from the corner of his
mouth.
Walter kneels beside him, desperate.
Another ROAR -- closer.
Ray grabs Walter’s arm with surprising strength.
His eyes burn with fierce clarity.
RAY
(whispered, urgent)
Run.
Walter hesitates.
RAY (CONT'D)
RUN.
Something massive moves in the smoke behind them.
Walter staggers to his feet, backing away.
A giant silhouette emerges --
THE ALPHA, its first form, hide slick with blood and
chemicals, eyes glowing with embryonic gold.
It steps toward Ray.
He exerts his last strength to push Walter toward the exit.
Then --
The Alpha pounces on him as Walter sprints away.
He races through the collapsing hallway, boots skidding on
slick concrete.
Ahead -- the steel vault EXIT DOOR.
He throws himself through, slams the control lever --
WHAM!
The door SEALS shut inches before the Alpha’s claws ram
against it from the other side.
The entire chamber SHUDDERS with the Alpha’s fury.
Walter collapses against the door, sobbing, trembling.
The sirens die.
The lights fade.
Smoke swallows everything.
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Horror","Sci-Fi","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
43 -
Confrontation in the Blizzard
INT. RADIO ROOM – NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
Clare snaps back into her body with a violent gasp.
Her hands clutch the snowy windowsill. Her veins glow
brighter, racing under her skin like molten lightning.
Outside, Walter stands perfectly still.
Like he felt her inside his head.
For the briefest moment, Walter’s expression changes -- pain,
guilt, relief, something nameless.
He knows she saw it.
CLARE
(whispers)
You.. left him.
Their eyes lock through the blizzard.
Then she sees it:
THE MINE HATCH at the edge of the clearing --
OPEN, steam roiling from the darkness like a living breath.
Walter stops at its edge.
He looks down into it with grim recognition -- as if
returning to a place he hoped he’d never see again.
The troopers cluster around him.
Something trembles under the snow around them.
One trooper, SOLDIER 1, lifts his head -- sees Clare watching
from the radio room window.
He taps his rifle twice.
Walter turns toward the tower -- meets Clare’s eyes across
the blizzard.
No surprise.
No relief.
Just a quiet, sorrowful inevitability.
He lifts two fingers -- a silent command.
BANG!
The window EXPLODES inward.
Clare dives to the floor as gunfire RIPS through the cabin.
Wood splinters. Metal shrieks. Ice blasts across her face.
She scrambles behind the desk, glass slicing her palms.
Her breathing spikes — the infected veins in her neck flare
brighter, pulsing with adrenaline.
Then --
Silence.
The gunfire stops abruptly.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
44 -
Night of the Lions
EXT. MOUNTAIN CLEARING - NIGHT
Snow whips in horizontal sheets, devouring all light and
sound.
The hazmat soldiers trudge forward through the white void --
Each step is tentative, sinking deeper into the snow than the
last.
A low vibration beneath the ground grows stronger --
A tremor, rhythmic, like a heartbeat buried miles below.
SOLDIER 1
You feel that?
SOLDIER 2
Must be --
CRACK.
The word dies in his throat.
The earth shifts beneath them -- a shuddering groan like the
mountain exhaling.
They freeze.
SOLDIER 3
Wait -- hold position --
BOOM!
The ground ERUPTS in a geyser of snow --
TWO MASSIVE LIONS EXPLODE UPWARD.
The beast’s eyes flare gold -- molten and ancient.
A lion lunges at SOLDIER 1 --
The lion's jaws snap his helmet in half.
Bone splinters, flesh peels.
His body folds backward, spine arching until it breaks clean.
SOLDIER 2 opens fire -- muzzle flashes strobe through the
whiteout.
The second lion moves like vapor -- one moment solid, the
next a blur.
In a flash, the lion smashes into SOLDIER 2 -- claws cleaving
through his armor like wet paper.
His torso separates from his legs -- his upper body flung
into the storm --
Blood arcs in perfect ribbons before vanishing in the wind.
SOLDIER 3 and SOLDIER 4 fan out, panicked, beams flailing
wildly across the storm.
Walter watches from a safe distance.
Not scared.
Certain.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
45 -
Embrace of the Storm
INT. RADIO ROOM – NIGHT
Clare presses herself close to the cracked windowpane, breath
trembling against the frost-webbed glass.
Outside, the screams and roars are muffled, swallowed by wind
and distance.
Clare’s breath fogs the pane.
Her reflection stares back at her through the distorted
glass:
Pale.
Fevered.
Half human.
Half something trying to wake.
Her hand lifts -- trembling -- and touches the glass,
aligning her fingertips with her ghost-pale reflection.
The golden light beneath her skin pulses once, in sync with
the low THRUM of the mountain below.
A flicker of panic crosses her face.
Her veins flare brighter.
She forces her hand away, horrified.
She spins toward the far wall -- where the emergency ladder
chute drops down the tower spine.
The hatch hangs half-open, rattling in the wind like
something trying to breathe.
Snow hisses across the metal lip, swirling down into the dark
below.
Clare steps toward it -- legs unsteady, vision smearing at
the edges.
She plants a hand on the wall, steadying herself as the world
tilts.
Her breath trembles.
She wipes her mouth with her sleeve, smearing a ribbon of
gold-tinged phlegm she refuses to look at.
She grips the ladder rails.
Then pauses.
Reaches into her pocket. Pulls out her inhaler -- the one
lifeline she’s carried since childhood.
She studies it...
Then -- lets it fall.
THUD.
The sound is small, but final.
Clare’s whole body trembles -- not with fear, but with some
new, rising current beneath her skin.
Determination.
Mutation.
Becoming.
She looks to the broken window beside her.
Her reflection peers back -- fractured, distorted.
Not a woman. Not yet a monster. Something in between.
Clare inhales -- calm, steady, surrendering and resisting all
at once.
She steps into the hatch.
And descends into the storm below.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
46 -
Climbing Through Shadows
EXT. MOUNTAIN RIDGE - NIGHT
The snow churns sideways -- a white ocean swallowing sky and
ground alike.
Clare climbs through it --
Staggering, half-blind, Clare's breath catching in shallow
gasps.
Gold light pulses beneath her skin like bioluminescent roots
spreading through her bloodstream.
Her boot slips on the ice --
She drops to one knee.
She looks at the ridge ahead --
An impossible slope disappearing into a white abyss.
The wind shifts.
Suddenly --
Shapes stir in the snow --
Faint, translucent figures emerge, climb right beside her --
Clare's father, his coat heavy with frost, and Jack, wearing
his army uniform, their faces blurred, hollow-eyed, yet kind.
They climb with her -- silent, steady.
She digs her boots into the slope, pulling herself higher.
A low growl ripples through the blizzard -- distant but
growing closer.
She freezes, the wind slicing her face raw.
Clare grasps the cross necklace around her neck, holding back
tears.
Her breath comes in ragged bursts, each exhale trailing a
faint yellow mist.
Clare staggers upward -- slips again.
Her palm slaps the ice -- her infection flaring.
Steam rises where she touches, the surface melting beneath
her hand.
She looks up --
For a moment -- the storm stills.
Snow falls gently, suspended in the air.
The mountain exhales, and everything breathes with her.
Her body and the mountain -- no longer separate.
Then the moment breaks --
A distant ROAR shatters the calm.
The mountain shakes beneath her boots.
Clare clenches her jaw, trudges forward.
Her eyes -- now bright, feral gold.
Behind her --
The ghosts of her father and Jack fade into the white abyss.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
47 -
Avalanche Trigger
EXT. RIDGE - LIP OF THE CORNICE - NIGHT
A narrow shelf.
Clare crawls, belly to ice, peering over --
An open bowl, heavy with loaded snow --
The perfect avalanche face.
She claws at a fissure, revealing --
A thin blue seam of hard ice buttressing the slope --
A weak plane.
She shoulders off her backpack, unzips it -- takes the
dynamite out with shaking hands.
She tucks three sticks of dynamite into a natural crack --
then snakes an old blasting cord into the crevice.
She digs for her lighter -- then lights the fuse of the
blasting cord.
Sulfur sparks --
HISS.
Clare dives behind a toothed outcrop and clamps her jaw --
grasping her hands around the cross on Jack's necklace.
Wind shrieks.
Then --
BOOM!
EXT. MOUNTAINSIDE - NIGHT
A cathedral wall of snow peels from the mountain with a slow,
apocalyptic grace.
The avalanche drops like a frozen sea rearing -- accelerating
--
A white tide engulfs the bowl in a cacophony of crashing rock
and ice.
Then --
Silence.
A new landscape --
Smoothed. Flattened. Erased.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
48 -
Embrace of the Alpha
EXT. RIDGE - NIGHT
Clare staggers up, coughing, half-smiling.
Behind her -- BOOTS crunch in the snow.
A familiar voice, steady. Controlled.
WALTER (O.S.)
Don’t stop now, kid.
You’re almost home.
Clare whirls.
Walter stands fifteen yards downhill, hazmat helmet off,
rifle hanging from his shoulder on a sling.
Snow clings to his suit. His breath plumes steady and
unhurried.
He looks old. Tired. Certain.
Clare grips the fire axe with white-knuckled desperation.
CLARE
Stay back.
He climbs toward her, slow and methodical, never breaking eye
contact.
The wind shifts, revealing a black chasm on either side of
the narrowing ridgeline above — nothing but empty air and
jagged rock far below.
He arrives within ten feet of her. Stops.
The wind roars between them.
Up here, the storm is less a sky and more a rotating wall of
shifting grey.
Clare’s veins pulse brighter in the dim light.
Walter studies them with clinical interest.
WALTER
Synchronization’s accelerating.
You’re adapting fast.
CLARE
You came to kill me.
WALTER
I came to end this. That might mean
killing you.
(softening)
Or it might not.
He unslings his rifle and sets it gently in the snow. Then
raises both hands -- empty.
WALTER (CONT'D)
You’re the daughter of the man who
started this.
Clare flinches, the words hitting like a slap.
CLARE
He didn’t start it.
The Army did.
Walter smiles sadly.
WALTER
The Army built the cage. Your
father opened the door.
Clare’s eyes flash — gold flaring beneath the irises.
The hum in the rock deepens.
Clare grimaces — clutching her head as a wave of sound
crashes through her.
Images flicker behind her eyes:
— The MEADOW OF CORPSES.
— The HIVE pulsing in the mine.
— The ALPHA’s eyes burning through a wall of snow.
— Her father in a hazmat suit, hand pressed to glass.
Clare squeezes her eyes shut.
WALTER (CONT'D)
That’s it.
He taps his chest over his heart.
WALTER (CONT'D)
It’s getting louder, isn’t it?
Clare’s breathing accelerates. Her pupils narrow into slits.
She bares her teeth -- they’ve lengthened, subtly. Enough to
look wrong.
CLARE
You want to kill me -- do it.
Walter chuckles softly.
WALTER
You think I wanted this job?
He stoops, picks up a fistful of snow. Lets it sift through
his fingers.
WALTER (CONT'D)
I was here when the first breach
happened. When we thought one lion
was the worst the mountain could
spit back at us.
(beat)
I watched your father walk into the
Arsenal to “fix” it.
And I watched him never come back
out.
Clare’s eyes glisten.
CLARE
You left him.
WALTER
I sealed the door.
Because that’s what containment looks like.
He takes another step forward. Now only a few feet separate
them.
WALTER (CONT'D)
They sent us back tonight with new
orders. No cages. No survivors.
Just scorched earth.
Clare’s grip tightens. The axe head trembles.
CLARE
Then why am I still breathing?
Walter’s gaze softens.
WALTER
Because I hoped --
(beat)
-- just for a second -- that we’d
finally made something that could
live with it.
The hum inside the mountain becomes a steady, resonant
HEARTBEAT.
Clare staggers, dropping to one knee.
Her back arches. Muscles ripple unnaturally under her jacket.
Her veins flare BRILLIANT GOLD. Skin stretches. Bones pop in
subtle misalignments, then snap into new positions with wet
cracks.
Clare CHOKES — hands clawing at the snow.
Walter watches, entranced.
WALTER (CONT'D)
There it is.
He steps closer, kneeling in front of her, eyes shining.
WALTER (CONT'D)
You feel it, don’t you?
The heartbeat of the valley.
Clare’s fingers dig into the snow. The nails darken, harden —
not full claws yet, but moving that way.
Her perspective shifts -- sounds sharpen.
We HEAR:
— Distant avalanches.
— A fox stepping lightly half a mile down-slope.
— The slow grind of glaciers in the high peaks.
It’s overwhelming.
Walter reaches out, grips her shoulders.
WALTER (CONT'D)
You can’t shut it out.
She snarls and SHRUGS HIM OFF — hurling him backward with a
burst of inhuman strength.
Walter slams into a jagged rock outcrop, breath driven from
his lungs.
He wheezes, stunned, then laughs.
Clare rises.
Her movements are different now — fluid, predatory. More
weight on the balls of her feet. Spine slightly bowed.
Her eyes glow fully gold in the shadow of her hood.
She bares her teeth — no longer fully human.
CLARE
(voice layered,
distorted)
I’m not an experiment you can just
bury. Not this time.
Walter drags himself upright, leaning on the rock.
WALTER
I buried it before and I can do it
again.
The hum swells.
Something MASSIVE moves up the slope below, unseen.
Every rock vibrates in time with its approach.
Clare’s head snaps toward the sound -- hyper-alert.
Walter takes this moment to move -- lunging toward his rifle
buried in the snow.
Clare is faster.
She darts forward in a blur, shoulder-checks him into a rock
before he can reach it.
He grunts, dropping to one knee.
She kicks the rifle, sending it skidding toward the edge of
the ridge.
Walter coughs blood, wiping his mouth.
WALTER (CONT'D)
There she is... That’s the
predator. The Apex.
Clare grabs him by the front of his hazmat suit, yanking him
close — feet partially off the ground.
The ease of the motion surprises them both.
Her voice is low, dangerous.
CLARE
You want extermination?
She slams him against the rock face.
Walter’s eyes blaze — not with fear, but with a strange
relief.
WALTER
If you kill me... they’ll send
more. They always do.
Clare’s grip tightens.
CLARE
Then I won’t leave anyone to send
them.
Walter’s smile fades -- replaced by a flash of something
harder.
He drives his knee up into her ribs.
The hit lands, but Clare barely flinches.
Instead, her hand snaps down with inhuman speed, catching his
leg.
She YANKS -- sending him sprawling to the snow.
He scrambles, fingers closing around a compact sidearm
holstered at his hip.
He whips it up, firing—
The shot grazes Clare’s shoulder, spinning her.
She shrieks -- but not in pain. In rage.
Golden blood seeps through her jacket, sizzling faintly as it
hits the snow.
Clare drops to all fours, panting.
For a terrifying moment -- she likes it.
The position. The power. The stability.
Her back arches. Spine elongates slightly. Her limbs flex,
joints cracking.
Walter sees it. Horror and awe blend in his eyes.
WALTER
(whispers)
My God...
Clare looks up at him, eyes glowing like twin suns.
Her voice is layered -- human and something deeper.
CLARE
He’s not listening anymore.
Walter staggers to his feet, gun trained on her.
He steadies his hand, aiming at her heart.
WALTER
I’m sorry, Clare.
Clare tenses to spring --
The mountain’s heartbeat SLAMS into a crescendo.
The ground vibrates.
A low ROAR rolls up the slope behind Walter.
He freezes.
Snow cascades from an overhang as something enormous
approaches.
Walter doesn’t turn around. He keeps the gun on Clare.
Clare’s gaze shifts past him.
Her pupils widen.
Her voice drops to a reverent whisper.
CLARE
He’s here.
A shadow swallows Walter.
THE ALPHA rises at the edge of the ridge behind him — a
colossal silhouette against the storm.
Buffalo horns curve from its skull like black crescents. Its
fur ripples with embedded veins of glowing gold.
Walter’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t look back.
He cocks the handgun.
In an instant, the Alpha’s MASSIVE PAW closes around his
head.
There’s a sickening CRUNCH as bone and helmet collapse
together.
Walter’s body spasms once — then goes limp.
The Alpha lifts him effortlessly, like a broken doll.
For a moment, Walter’s eyes meet Clare’s over the beast’s
fist -- still alive, barely. Something like pride flickers
there.
Then the Alpha SQUEEZES.
Walter’s HEAD CRUSHES and SEPARATES in a spray of blood and
plastic.
His decapitated body drops, crumpling bonelessly to the snow.
The Alpha casually flicks the ruined helmet and skull
fragment off the cliff.
They vanish into the void.
Silence.
Only the wind and the slow, thunderous breathing of the
Alpha.
Clare remains on all fours, chest heaving, eyes locked on the
monster.
The Alpha turns its attention to her.
They regard each other across a few feet of snow -- predator
and predator.
The Alpha’s lips curl back, revealing rows of teeth. Its
hackles rise.
Clare meets its gaze without flinching.
The glowing veins in her neck and face sync perfectly with
the glow in the Alpha’s chest -- pulsing in the same rhythm.
The mountain hums in unison.
Slowly, Clare rises from all fours to a crouched, almost
feral stand.
Not fully human. Not fully beast.
Her hood falls back.
Gold light spills from her eyes.
The Alpha’s growl changes -- deepens, softens.
Instead of pouncing --
It lowers its head.
A submissive gesture.
Slow. Deliberate.
It sinks down until its muzzle is nearly in the snow, massive
shoulders bowing.
It recognizes her.
The hive senses its own.
FLASH – Clare’s POV:
-- The neural map of the hive. Branches. Synapses. Trails of
heat and thought.
-- She sees what the Alpha sees.
-- She feels its pain. It was made, not born. Cut. Injected.
Bound in steel.
CLARE (CONT'D)
(softly)
They made you this.
The Alpha lowers its head slightly. A low, rattling exhale.
Clare closes her eyes.
Letting the connection open.
Her mind blooms.
She doesn’t fight the infection. She focuses it.
Her breath clouds the air between them.
She steps forward -- tentative -- until they are almost
touching.
She lifts a trembling hand and lays it gingerly on the
Alpha’s scarred brow, between the horns.
For a moment, her human fingers look absurdly small.
The moment stretches.
Then --
Her hand grips fur, knuckles tightening.
Her veins flare bright as molten metal.
Her expression shifts -- fear giving way to something else:
Recognition.
Understanding.
Ownership.
The Alpha’s massive eyes close, accepting.
The mountain heartbeat becomes deafening -- then settles into
perfect sync with Clare’s.
Her posture changes.
Around her neck, still tucked half under her jacket, the
chain of JACK’S CROSS glints dully in the storm light -- the
last relic of her human life.
She becomes aware of it -- looks down.
Her hand leaves the Alpha.
She fingers the cross, pulling it out so it hangs exposed,
swinging.
Her jaw clenches.
The cross glows faintly from her reflected gold.
Then she RIPS it from her neck.
The chain snaps.
She stares at it in her palm -- her breath slows.
She closes her fist around it -- then hurls it off the ridge.
We follow the cross as it spins away, swallowed by the void,
tumbling end over end into darkness.
Clare turns back to the Alpha.
The storm parts around them, like the wind itself is learning
to move out of her way.
She takes one step... then another...
Then drops smoothly back onto all fours.
Snow doesn’t hamper her now. It supports her.
Muscles coil under her skin.
The Alpha rises with her -- falling into step behind, a
shadow at her flank.
Together, they move off the ridgeline, disappearing into the
leaning silhouettes of the upper pines.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
49 -
Awakening in the Wild
EXT. HIGH MOUNTAIN FOREST – DAY
We rub behind Clare as she runs on all fours through the
forest --
A blur of muscle and light.
The world is different through her eyes:
Every scent -- a map.
Every sound -- a signal.
The dark no longer an obstacle -- but a home.
Branches whip past. Snow explodes under her hands and feet,
but never slows her.
On a distant ridge, a herd of elk lifts their heads in
unison, eyes glowing faint gold as they slowly turn toward
Clare’s direction -- drawn, awakened.
Spores drift from their fur like shimmering dust, carried
downwind toward the quiet towns in the foothills.
We follow a single spore --
Above the ridge.
Above the vast expanse of the ROCKIES -- endless rows of
jagged stone vertebrae stabbing into the sky.
The wind howls over the peaks -- carrying, just for a moment,
the faint echo of a ROAR:
Not fully human. Not fully animal.
Something in-between.
Something evolved.