Two Winters Past

EXT. HIGHWAY. MORNING.

Wide, low angle through the highway. A few scattered cars are in sight. A bare human foot steps into the shot. The skin is tense and torn in places. The muscle beneath writhes like a bed of worms. Foot takes another step, a little more of the leg is in view. Tattered pants hang from above. A hand comes into shot. Skin splits and three tentacles writhe through, absorbing muscle and bone.

Further down the highway, CHLOE ISIS and VALENTINE are walking. VALENTINE is barefoot, moving slowly, picking around the broken rock. His shoes are oversized on Chloe’s feet.

VALENTINE: At least this ground is pretty even. I’d hate to be on a gravel road right now.

CHLOE ISIS: How far do you think to a house?

VALENTINE: I know there’s a few just off the road, but I don’t know if anything is living there. If we go through Whitney Point, they have a tank!

CHLOE ISIS: An armored tank?

VALENTINE: I don’t think it worked even before the power went out, but it’s a sweet place to ride out a storm. It sits in the yard of an old high school.

A cry like a belch sounds behind them. They get in cover.

VALENTINE: What was that?

CHLOE ISIS: I’ve never heard anything like it.

VALENTINE draws his machete.

CHLOE ISIS: It’s Chango, it’s John Chango.

VALENTINE: Chango is dead. Look!

VALENTINE points to a large monster approaching. It has human body parts, but the skin is stretched by the hulking mass beneath. In place of one hand are three, oily black tentacles.

VALENTINE: Is that a person??

CHLOE ISIS: It must be a symptom of the plague.

VALENTINE: I don’t think it sees us. Stay in cover.

Continued 4/12