The Survivalist Page #14

She holds his hands. Loosens them.

He stops, breathing out his frenzy. She gently pulls the

paper away.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - DAY (LATER)

Kathryn and Survivalist sit at the table, looking over the

articles, half torn, realigned together.

KATHRYN:

Is that your name - Tallis?

He shakes his head.

SURVIVALIST:

She never changed hers, after we

married.

He pulls up a small, column-sized piece of newsprint.

Studies it. Shows it to her.

OIL SUPPLY IN 'STEADY DECLINE'

SURVIVALIST (cont'd)

This is how we knew. What was

coming. Think her editor wanted a

lifestyle piece, prices at the pump

and where they're going sort of

thing. But she went off-piste.

(he smiles,

remembering)

Interviewed some experts. These guys

were pretty sober people; academics,

analysts... and they were

frightened. Once you knew how oil

and gas and food worked... There's a

moment where you look around, see

all these people driving their cars,

shopping, eating... no idea their

lives were held by string. And that

string was going to get cut. Her

editor cut it down to filler. Spiked

the follow-up. Too much doom and

gloom, he said. But we kept digging.

Deeper we got, more people we found

who knew, whole networks trying to

prepare. But they didn't have the

power to change anything. People who

did... they were building more

f***ing airports.

He looks straight at her.

SURVIVALIST (cont'd)

That's when we knew we needed to

find somewhere. For us and our son.

Somewhere safe. Somewhere like here.

He taps the wood of the table three times. The echo holds

for a moment in the gloom.

KATHRYN:

Can I ask... what happened to them?

He buries his gaze back in the book.

SURVIVALIST:

What do you think.

She waits for him to continue.

But he'll be saying no more. His eyes run over the words of

his dead wife.

EXT. THE HEAPS - DAY

Ground-level view of sunrise between the compost heaps.

EXT. CABIN, FARM PLOT - DAY

Milja stands and squeezes sods off her gloves. She peels

gloves off and rubs a palm heel against her sweaty chin.

She walks towards the cabin.

INT. CABIN, FARM PLOT - DAY

The faded display of a CASIO F-91W watch.

It is held by Kathryn, resting on the bed.

Milja comes in the doorway. She looks over at her mother,

lying where she would normally sleep.

Milja pulls off her muddy boots with a disruptive clamour.

Kathryn slides out and pulls on her shoes. They pass each

other as Milja slinks to the bed and rests.

EXT. CABIN, FARM PLOT - DAY

Kathryn hunkers beside Survivalist and tends to the

weeding.

KATHRYN:

She's eighteen tomorrow.

SURVIVALIST:

...How do you know?

KATHRYN:

I did give birth to her.

SURVIVALIST:

The date.

She shows him the watch.

KATHRYN:

Bequeathed by our visitor.

He holds it in his hand and looks at the faded display.

Marvels.

SURVIVALIST:

After all this time... still telling

it.

KATHRYN:

Batteries must be running ten years.

SURVIVALIST:

At least.

(...)

Date could be wrong.

KATHRYN:

Says who?

They share a smile.

KATHRYN (cont'd)

I want to make her a meal. For her

birthday.

She offers out her wrist, for the watch.

KATHRYN (cont'd)

The ingredients are rather exotic.

Would you help me find them?

He nods - why not- and straps the watch back on her arm.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - DAY

Milja watches them from the window.

EXT. FOREST - DAY

Kathryn leads in front of Survivalist, looking skyward; he

walks behind her, eyeing the perimetre and keeping his

shotgun low and ready.

KATHRYN:

What were you... when people were

things?

SURVIVALIST:

I was a Dad. Stay-at-home.

KATHRYN:

I had one of those.

She stops and observes the high branches of a tree - a

family of nests, a few crows. She walks on.

KATHRYN (cont'd)

A truly gorgeous man... but never

very practical.

Kathryn stops, taking an interest in one particular tree.

She walks around the perimetre and looks for an approach

upwards.

Survivalist looks up into the branches; sees an isolated

nest in the high branches above.

Looking down he sees Kathryn already has a foothold, is

making her ascent.

SURVIVALIST:

You can't be serious.

She moves from branch to branch, adroit.

Survivalist shakes his head and keeps scanning the area.

She reaches the nest branch, which is sturdy enough to

support her weight.

She inspects the nest; three greenish and pebbled eggs. She

scans her surroundings for the mother bird... all clear.

She shakes each of the eggs in turn beside her ear; takes

two and gently puts them in her lined pocket.

A CROW lands on the same branch. Perhaps the mother.

Perhaps a fellow thief.

She looks at it; it looks back.

Kathryn begins to climb down, slowly, keeping her eyes on

the bird.

FADE TO:

They walk through the forest; near dark.

Survivalist touches Kathryn's shoulder - halt. She looks to

him. He waves a hand around his nose.

She smells it too.

They look around and source a direction. Moving through

branches, leaves, on guard...

They come across the REMAINS OF A FIRE in a clearing. No

sign of life around - just the smouldering remains.

Survivalist crouches and cranks a dynamo torch. It

illuminates boot marks in the scorched mud around the fire.

Overlapping, unique imprints; several people were here.

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