The Survivalist Page #15

He lights what Kathryn is nudging with a stick; a blackened

oblong rib.

EXT. CABIN, FRONT - NIGHT

Torchlight marks Survivalist and Kathryn's return from the

dark forest. Milja stands sentry at the door, where she has

been waiting.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

A pale, uneven omelette lies on a plate in front of Milja.

Kathryn and Survivalist sit opposite, studying her reaction

to the dish.

Her fork picks off a corner. She raises to her mouth.

Smells it suspiciously.

Bites and chews. Her face squirms with the strange texture.

She nods - it's OK.

KATHRYN:

Do you remember when we used to eat

eggs?

She eats more of it, bigger pieces.

MILJA:

... remembering.

She is quickly down to her last piece.

She offers it on a fork to each of them. They decline.

KATHRYN:

It's for you.

SURVIVALIST:

And something else as well.

His chair scrapes and he goes to the seed room. Milja

surveys her mother's face for a hint, but she doesn't know

what he will produce.

He returns and sets a tin can on the table.

SURVIVALIST (cont'd)

(lying)

Forgot I had this.

The cover is worn and faded; illegible text and red blobs.

KATHRYN:

Strawberries?

SURVIVALIST:

Cherries. Keep longer.

He lifts it, inspecting the lid.

KATHRYN:

You even have a tin opener?

He tilts the head of the can; it has a pull tab.

He sets it down on the table and hinges the pull-tab

backwards. The can should depressurise, but doesn't. He

tries to jag the tab into the can. It won't go.

KATHRYN (cont'd)

We should use a tool-

He raises a hand, stoic.

He pulls the tab back with obvious strain. It won't budge.

He uses his other hand to put pressure on the metal behind

the tab, pulling in both directions.

The tab RIPS OFF and his thumb jags into the tab's sharp

neck.

He drops the can and holds his thumb tights; cut open,

oozing blood.

Kathryn immediately goes to the cabinet and takes out the

first aid kit. She drags two chairs to the stove.

She washes out his cut in the cooling roof water and wraps

a bandage around it.

Milja eyes her tender touch with him.

FADE TO:

Survivalist takes off his clothes in the dim stovelight of

the lit stove. He peels back his bandage a little, to check

how it's mending. A bead of blood runs out.

A hand runs up his arm to cup his fingers. Milja's slender

figure at his side. She pulls the thumb to her mouth and

sucks the blood.

He lets her, but is taken aback by her sudden possession.

She ties off the bandage, double-tight, and takes him to

the bed. She shuts the seed room door in passing.

She lies him on his back and straddles him. Her nails rack

along his chest. It hurts but he endures, holding off the

urge to pull her hands away.

Her hand runs between legs. She guides him into her.

He reaches out to stop her, but she hold grips his hands

and presses them against the bed. She kisses him with an

almost tremendous force, as her hips push in and out of

him.

FADE TO BLACK:

FADE UP:

EXT. FOREST - DAY

A crow rests on branch's edge; the setting sun behind.

Its black eyes crane and peek around with a hollow

intelligence.

TITLE OVER:

AUTUMN:

The crow alights.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

Survivalist wakes suddenly. Tense, sharp breaths. Milja

asleep beside him. At rest. The door to Kathryn's seed room

open. Otherwise calm.

He gets his feet on the ground and runs thumb against

forehead, kneading out a few creases.

He absently looks at his thumb in the stovelight; healed, a

thin scar showing.

EXT. CABIN, FRONT - NIGHT

Survivalist makes his way across the plot. The night is

moonless and jet-black dark, but he knows the way by

memory.

EXT. THE HEAPS - NIGHT

The compost heaps give a warmth in the chill air.

Survivalist unbuttons and pisses into a pile.

He sighs, looking up at the pinhead jewels of the full dark

sky.

His piss patters out.

He buttons up...

... Something small DARTS past him.

Small, perhaps a fox or sleepless hare.

He looks around, on edge. The forest night's noisy silence.

An owl, somewhere.

But in the distance... a flicker of light, dancing like a

dim spark.

Survivalist's night vision focusses: torchlight. The one

beam, swaying between trees. Coming this way.

Then another... as his eyes adapt to their range, about

fifty metres away, he sees three, four... SIX beam lights

flickering in the dark. The torchbearers are walking in an

even, disciplined formation.

Survivalist bolts to the cabin.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

Through the door, he grabs the shotgun, opens the seed room

door wide.

INT. CABIN - SEED ROOM - NIGHT

Drowsy but fast, Kathryn lays hands on the machete.

Survivalist raises a quick finger to his lips. Shh...

He pulls out the seed drawer and empties the envelopes of

seeds into a rucksack.

INT. CABIN, MAIN ROOM - NIGHT

Survivalist wakes Milja, puts her shirt in her hands.

EXT. CABIN, FRONT - NIGHT

Survivalist nudges the door open, slinging rucksack over

shoulders. He uses his hand mirror to scan rightward, to

the heaps.

Torch beams flicker onto the edge of the plot. The dim hum

of six dynamo-crank torches.

He sidesteps in the opposite direction, back pressed close

to the cabin. Kathryn, Milja half-dressed, follow. She

looks back to see...

Torchlight sweeping across the cabin's front and falling

on...

... empty space on the cabin's foot ledge.

The three run from the cabin towards the tall trees

overlooking the farm.

Survivalist is nimble, scaling the bark of the tree

quickly.

Kathryn follows, experienced tree climber from youth.

Milja is next. Her feet scrape against the bark, searching

for purchase in the knuckles of dead branches.

Light grows brighter from the edge of the cabin... torch

light passes through front windows and side windows onto

the grass in front of them.

Milja gets a hand hold on a lean branch. It creaks...

Bare torch light their side of the cabin now. Shadows of

men in halos of light. Army fatigues and outdoor wear and

backpacks. Well fed physiques.

Milja reaches for a thicker branch.

Her current branch hold BENDS...

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