The Survivalist Page #12

Kathryn pushes a compress against the wound, her face close

enough to his to feel his breath.

Milja inspects the bullet with her knife. It is warped and

flattened.

MILJA:

It's in one piece.

SURVIVALIST:

...Get the poker.

Kathryn volunteers for this; she stokes it in the flame

until it is red hot.

EXT. CABIN, FRONT - NIGHT

Light from the open wood stove flickers against the glass.

Birds FLY as a gagged SCREAM emerges from the cabin.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

Milja cracks open a dusty first aid kit. She layers a piece

of cotton and gauze against his wound.

INT. CABIN, SEED ROOM - NIGHT

The door swings open. Survivalist waves Milja and Kathryn

inside with the revolver.

Milja's look asks - me as well? He nods.

They silently step in. Kathryn hands are at the ready on

the gun. She passes close by Survivalist.

He slams and bolts the door.

Over:
the SOUND OF BANGING.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - DAY

Survivalist - ill, overslept - unlocks the door.

The banging stops.

The door sways open and he retreats further inside the

cabin. Kathryn - shotgun strapped - and Milja emerge.

EXT. STREAM - DAY

Survivalist pulls open the gauze to inspect the wound.

Arching his head, he sees a trail of green puss.

Not good, in a world without antibiotics.

He closes his eyes.

EXT. THE HEAPS - DAY

Survivalist trudges to the stinking, buzzing compost heaps.

Flies flicker around his face.

He lies on the ground, quite still, and opens up the gauze,

exposing the wound.

...

After some time, flies curl and land around the open flesh.

He watches them begin to nestle around the exposed,

festering wound.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

The three, eating dinner. Two armed. Survivalist, gaunt and

pale.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT (LATER)

Resting on the bed, Survivalist inspects his wound with his

small mirror.

Tiny MAGGOTS wriggle and curl inside. They feast on the

infected tissue.

Milja watches from the open door of the seed room.

INT. CABIN, SEED ROOM - NIGHT

Milja and Kathryn lie in each other's arms for warmth. The

door bolts and unlocks.

Kathryn is quick to the shotgun, and has it in her hands as

the door opens. Milja's torch beam finds Survivalist's

face; it is slicked with cold sweat. He sways on unsteady

feet.

SURVIVALIST:

I'm sick.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

Survivalist lies in bed, two mouldy cushions stacked up

against his back.

Milja washes the maggots from his wound and collects the

detritus in a bowl. The infested tissue has been eaten

away, but he has contracted fever. His skin is deathly

pale.

Survivalist stares at Kathryn with heavy eyes and a limp

grip on his revolver. She sits across from him by the

warmth of the stove, shotgun lain across her lap.

His eyes close.

Milja gently slips the revolver from his unconscious hand.

EXT. CABIN, FRONT - NIGHT

Kathryn takes a cigarette from her packet - three left -

and toys with the idea of lighting it. For the moment she

just lets the familiar taste hang dry on her lips.

Milja stands beside her - holds out the revolver. Kathryn

inspects it curiously, then hands it back.

KATHRYN:

Gone, is he?

MILJA:

Going.

Kathryn idles a glance at Survivalist inside; unconscious,

pale, trembling.

KATHRYN:

Better this way, than through the

stomach.

MILJA:

Think he has a chance?

Kathryn lights the cigarette and drags deep.

KATHRYN:

Well... no matter, now.

Silence of the forest night. Cricket-song, tree-sway...

A cough from inside. Weak, mucus-filled.

MILJA:

He's useful.

KATHRYN:

A third mouth, on a farm fit for

one.

Inside:
a hacked cough.

KATHRYN (cont'd)

...and too far gone anyway.

MILJA:

No harm in trying then.

Kathryn stubs the cigarette with her thumb, replaces the

remainder gently in the packet.

KATHRYN:

You're getting sentimental.

MILJA:

Time was, you would have found me.

You're getting older.

Kathryn smiles and squeezes Milja's shoulder hard - only

half affectionate.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

Fire FLAMES in the stove, as a block of wood is thrown in.

Kathryn and Milja strip the Survivalist. He is drifting in

and out. His revolver hand clenches absently.

He is soon naked. They drag his naked body and bunk close

to the stove fire.

EXT. STREAM - NIGHT

The two women fill buckets in the icy night water.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

They pour water over Survivalist's naked body. He spasms in

reaction. They rub the cold liquid into his burning skin.

They pour the other bucketful.... same procedure.

He shivers.

Kathryn and Milja quickly take off their clothes. Milja

eases herself on top of him first; she rubs hands friction

fast over his chest, arms. She works as much of her skin

against his to warm him as quickly as possible.

Kathryn, undressed, slips beside her and does the same. His

eyes open - half aware of something going on - then flicker

off again.

Kathryn makes eye contact with Milja as she slides across

Survivalist's body.

EXT. CABIN, FRONT - NIGHT

Coats swept over naked bodies, boots pulled over bare feet,

Kathryn and Milja run towards the stream again.

FADE TO BLACK:

A slow, liquid light swims over us; we can't quite focus.

Our wet eye-lids are achingly heavy, crusted with stasis.

Eyeballs dilate, focus slowly.

Beneath Survivalist's pallid orbits, the knowledge that he

won't slip off like the other times. He looks around to

see:

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - DAY

The cabin, seen through burned out whites and blues from

eyes closed too long.

Kathryn is cooking. He shifts - a shot of pain through his

back - a gasp. He sinks back into bed.

His hand slips for shotgun, no, his revolver - gone. He

feels clean, fresh sheets on the bed.

He turns his head - easier than moving body - and looks

through the window. Flowers in a jam jar on the sill; Milja

in the farm beyond.

KATHRYN (OFF)

Back in the land of the living?

His answer is a course cough.

Survivalist inspects his wound - healing. He's been out for

a while.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes