EXT. DEPOSIT. AFTERNOON.
MED SHOT: Looking up on TARTELL. He is at the top of the wall. TARTELL puts a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
POV: BINOCULARS. In the distance, we can see the flap of tents being erected, clear sight obscured by the remaining houses of Old Deposit.
As we watch, we see troops begin to march front the camp.
REACTION SHOT: TARTELL, horrified.
TARTELL: Enemy advancing!
REACTION SHOT: LOGAN.
LOGAN: Get to position!
MED SHOT: TARTELL looking out once more.
POV: BINOCULARS. A column of 50 Damascan soldiers advance. They hold tight formation with rifles across their chests.
LOGAN is climbing the ladder. He is once again wearing the hooded sweatshirt with the cross.
On the wall, LOGAN joins TARTELL.
LOGAN: Hold your fire until fired upon!
TARTELL hands the binoculars to LOGAN.
LOGAN looks through the BINOCULARS.
POV: BINOCULARS. Riflemen have reached the edge of the kill zone and have split in two groups. Another column of infantry is advancing from the Damascan camp.
Riflemen are taking up positions in houses at the edge of the kill zone.
TARTELL: Hardly range of anything we’ve got.
A BARABAS arrives with boxes of ammunition.
LOGAN follows TARTELL helping with the division of ammunition.
TARTELL: Hurry! Hurry! You need to use this soon!
A squad of Damascan soldiers has separated from the column. Before them they hold shields made from STOP signs. The first rank has their shields locked together in a shield wall.
Damascans begin to chant.
Two back ranks put their shields forward onto the wall, creating a roof above them, obscuring them from the Barabas.
TARTELL: A turtle.
LOGAN: Will arrows get through?
TARTELL: Arrows!
Barabas archers on the wall draw and take aim.
The shield wall is feathered, but does not slow.
Damascan riflemen open fire from the edge of the kill zone.
Bullets bounce off the walls of Deposit.
A BARABAS cries out and falls into the yard.
LOGAN: Stop that thing! I’m going to make sure VILLOFF keeps his head!
LOGAN runs down the catwalk.
A second shield wall has come forward with Damascans forming ranks behind. Another squad is assembling.
To the north, another Damascan squad has appeared, protected by stop sign bucklers.
TARTELL: Arrows!
Damascan archers fire on the first turtle, but once again, there is no effect.
To the south a squad has emerged to face VILLOFF.
LOGAN: Villoff! The arrows do nothing! Open fire! Open fire!
VILLOFF needs no more incentive.
VILLOFF: Blow those fuckers off a yer grandpa’s cock!
VILLOFF puts a rifle to his shoulder, lines up the scope and fires.
VILLOFF: Fuck you! You fucking fucks!
VILLOFF fires again.
REVERSE: A Damascan soldier at the center of the line lurches back and falls away. The back ranks step around him and put their shields up to cover the heads. Even when the soldier gone, the first rank of shields does not waver.
VILLOFF: They ain’t got no ladders.
LOGAN: We’re not letting them get that far!
Continued Thursday
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