“Lost Treasure”

an origina short film by Darwin’s Greed

Rev. 2 11/2019

Daniel R. Birchett, Spanish Fork, Utah, 84660

dan@blackouteps.com Copyright (c) 2012

Daniel R. Birchett WGA # Forthcoming

HOVEL – INT. DAY

The room is small, sparsely furnished with rickety wood chairs and a ragged looking pink sofa., clearly the furniture has been scavenged from other places. The roof is partially collapsed under the weight of the upper floors of the building that used to stand here. It’s dim, illuminated only by sparse CANDLE LIGHT. Though electrical fixtures like ceiling lights are present in the background, they do not function. MARION, 26, is standing with her back to the camera. She is tall with long brunette hair; it falls haphazardly down her back to her waist, despite the disarray and setting she keeps her hair cleanly brushed. She fidgets slightly and sighs.

MARION: This is insane.

She turns to the camera. Her eyes are tired, her face smudged with dirt and crisscrossed by light scarring. Tears well in her green eyes, but she is otherwise stoic in her rhetoric.

MARION: (CONT’D) You won’t find it. She shakes her head no, as if to convince herself.  MARION: It’s been too long. You can’t keep going out there like this.

BOY, 12, is a waif. He looks as though he could be 10. He has sandy brown hair that falls loosely around his head and over his eyes which we cannot see, as he is looking at his feet, shuffling them nervously. He shrugs his shoulders without looking up. Marion just stares for a moment, somber, waiting. Her face serious in the flickering candle light. Jimmy squirms slightly under her gaze, finally, he looks up and sheepishly meets her green eyes with his dark brown ones. Marion holds his gaze defiantly, Jimmy gestures toward the crude bandages wrapped around Marion’s leg, we see that she has a poorly tended injury.

MARION: (CONT’D) (Sighs, glancing away) Fine! Fine…

BOY’s face lights up like a Christmas parade. He rushes to Marion and wraps her in a tight embrace. Marion smiles a tight lipped smile that never touches her eyes, a smile that has known much hardship.

MARION: (CONT’D) Huff. But don’t say I didn’t try to stop you. Don’t say…God, I can’t believe I’m saying this; don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Marion leans back, pushing a maniacally grinning Boy away to arm’s length. He is nodding furiously. She studies him approvingly, she laughs a curt laugh, short, maybe a little bitter.
MARION: (CONT’D) (Matter of factly) Damn it. Damn, Damn it.
She grabs him tighter, and he offers no protest. Her eyes squeeze shut, not quite holding back the tears that have started to form in them.

MARION: Please… please be careful.

Boy nods one last time, solemnly, and grabbing a SATCHEL from the floor, makes a dash makes for the door. The door is little more than a few wood slats cobbled together in what was once a regular front doorway. Without another glance back he is out the door. Dim sunlight streams in as the door closes behind him for perhaps the last time. Marion, falling to her knees, begins to sob.

RUINED CITY – EXT. DAY

BOOM! An explosion echoes off the walls of a war-torn city. We see rapid shots of empty alleys and streets as the echo reverberates off concrete and brick. Smoke drifts lazily here and there from the smoldering remains of cars, homes, businesses, bodies.

ALLEY #1 – EXT. DAY

Boy is making his way stealthily down a long, narrow alley between the crumbled remains of two office buildings. Except for the occasional explosion, or distant chatter of machine gun fire, the scene is darkly peaceful. He makes his way carefully, occasionally running; sprinting to dark corners to hide in the rubble, or to listen intently for a few moments before steeling himself and pressing on.

INTERSECTION (WAR TORN) – EXT. DAY

He exits the alley and comes to a large intersection. The ravages of a recent battle are evident. Body parts are scattered about, dead soldiers and civilians lie in grotesque poses here and there. An APC (Armored Personnel Carrier), down the road is burning furiously, Small pops and a hissing sound are coming from the vehicle. Jimmy walks into the middle of the intersection, taking in the mayhem, bewildered, but wary.

3. INTERSECTION (PEACEFUL) – EXT. DAY

A FLASHBACK to before the fighting. It is evening, but everything is slightly sepia toned and washed out. Cars drive up and down the bustling streets, while well dressed CITIZENS stroll along the pathways, some arm in arm with their lovers, others alone, intent on their destinations, or caught up in phone conversations. The scene is prosperous. Amidst the cacophony and harmony of the bustling city, birds can be heard, a sweet symphony of chirping and song counterpoint to the mechanical hubbub of the streets. The windows of the buildings glow softly with a warm, inviting light. Everywhere CHILDREN of all ages and sizes play, on doorsteps, in driveways, running up and down the streets; the excited buzz of their laughter fills the air. The laughter builds slowly in volume and pitch, as the light from the windows of homes and businesses, grows fierce in intensity. It quickly reaches blinding white, at the same time the sound of laughter becomes a maddeningly loud shriek in BOY’s ears.

INTERSECTION (WAR TORN) – EXT. DAY

BOY snaps to. Shaking his head to clear it. There is a slight ringing in his ears, which we hear fading out as he shakes his head. There are no children in the streets now, for there are no more children. No bird-song in the air, only the occasional burst of automatic weapons, screams, shouts; no light from the windows. BOY looks up to see the dark empty window frames, he imagines they look like the empty black pits of the eyes of a skull grinning at him from the demolished buildings. He shivers, clutches his bag against himself, sets off again.

ALLEY #2 – EXT. DAY

A much larger alley than before. It is perhaps 20′ across. Strewn with rubble. Jimmy is walking down it when at the far end, a REBEL appears around the corner. He doesn’t see BOY, who quickly hides under a blown up car.

(O.S.) REBEL #1: Over there! 4.

(O.S.) REBEL #2: Hurry the fuck up! Get that artillery into place!

BOY is hiding under the burned out upside-down hulk of what was probably once a minivan. Charred corpses still in their seats, sagging against their belts still buckled tightly for safety. Rebel soldiers continue to appear from around the corner ahead of BOY, fortunately, they don’t see him as he scrambles to hide under anything he can find. News paper, debris, scraps of clothing. He pulls them all up around him. His face peeks out from the debris beneath the wreckage. He watches, eyes wide from beneath the burned out vehicle, as the REBEL soldiers roll some sort of cannons into view and past his hiding spot. BOY can see only legs and boots of those near him, while the rest further away are fully visible.

Booted feet swarm up the street like some sort of crazy ant colony, there are at least a dozen, ragtag, worn, but hard looking SOLDIERS, men, in disheveled uniforms here. Olive drab shirts and pants. Black boots. Some have belts or other uniform accessories. All of them have guns. Each of them has murder in his eyes. The cannon pushers finish their work and suddenly all snap to attention as a slightly better dressed man with an imperial air about him, an OFFICER, walks into their midst from right. He has golden knots on his shoulders indicating his rank as someone important. The soldiers all snap salutes, sharply. The Officer with the rank returns the salutes with a sloppy, dismissive salute of his own.

OFFICER: Bring them out. From the opposite direction, more boots approach. BOY can see only the shins down, as several CIVILIAN WOMEN are dragged into view.  BOY can see the ragged hems of their dresses. He closes his eyes.

OFFICER: (CONT’D) Now.

BOOM! The artillery fires in the back ground, the CIVILIAN WOMEN scream, sobbing. The officer continues softly, but firmly, as if to an unruly child.

OFFICER: (CONT’D) Now, Be still. 5.

BOOM! The artillery fires again, more sobs.

OFFICER: (CONT’D) You know why we are here. You know what we, the servants of the revolution, are trying to accomplish. Yet still in the face of all of this, you harbor-

The Officer is cut short by a burst of (O.S.)machine gun fire, he falls over to the ground, blood pooling up around him as he lands on his side and meets BOY’s eyes. He grins wickedly, then his eyes roll backward exposing the whites.

Simultaneously, The CIVILIAM WOMEN scream again.

SOLDIERS #3, #4, #5 (O.S.) #3: INCOMING! #4: Look OUT! #5: CONTACT! #3: FUCK!

Explosions rip the air, rocking the area, part of a building in the alley erupts, crashing down into the alley, covering some of the Soldiers. BOY is bounced so hard by the impacts that he hits his head on the bottom of the vehicle he is hiding under. We see snow-like TV static, then BLACK.

FADE IN – SHOT OF SUN GETTING LOWER IN THE SKY DISSOLVE TO ALLEY #2 – EXT. DAY

BOY awakens, except for the ringing in his ears that we hear fade out again, the air is still, almost quiet. He shakes off dust and debris, and peers out from his hiding spot. He blinks furiously as we see his vision swimming in front of him. His sight clears and wee see hints of the aftermath from his low vantage point. Rubble, craters, half a building gone. Blood. Shaking his head, He looks again and sees that everyone is dead. The Soldiers. The Civilian Women. The Officer. Torn to shreds by unseen assailants. BOY crawls from his hiding spot and continues on his way.

ALLEY # 3 – EXT. DAY

BOY is walking through another alley, desolation all around him. He sniffles and rubs his nose. Dust fills the air. He is kicking at debris as he goes. He peeks around the corner, and we see the bombed out remains of a modest two story house. His eyes widen.

 HOUSE – EXT. DAY

FLASHBACK to before the war. Two CHILDREN play happily in a well manicured, green front yard. The 2 story home is nice, well cared for, a white picket fence with fresh paint. The CHILDREN are singing, as the parents, faces in the shadow cast by the porch, sway lazily on a front porch swing.

RUINED HOUSE – EXT. DAY

BOY shakes his head clearing the last of the song the children were singing away. He looks about himself warily, reality setting back. He listens. Bombs in the background. Machine guns. The new normal day to day background symphony of reality. He looks up to the skyline visible above the hulking shells of skyscrapers and other blown out buildings on the horizon. It is nearing dusk. His eyes widen as the sun continues to fall lower and lower. With renewed energy, he sprints across the street, vaults the remains of the fence, little more than discolored boards sticking up at crazed angles, and ducking low beneath the collapsed door-frame, enters the house.

STREET #1 – EXT. DAY

Three SOLDIERS are patrolling the war-torn streets. One of them holds up a hand suddenly, Bringing the patrol to a halt. Without words, he signals the others, and they all three watch what appears to be a small boy sprint across the street, and into a blown up house. The LEAD SOLDIER motions again sharply. Guns come up, and they move towards the house.

RUINED HOUSE – PARLOR – INT. DAY

BOY blinks as his eyes adjust to the dim light. He is in a parlor. His eyes wander around, taking in mangled furniture, smashed pictures and belongings. Rubble and debris are everywhere, the ceiling sags under the weight of the ruined second floor. A fine dust covers the scene. As he walks forward, BOY sneezes. His footsteps stirring up small clouds. As he picks his way to the back of the house, we see a quick flashback of before the war.

7. HOUSE – INT. NIGHT

FLASHBACK – We see the shadows of laughing children on the wall running down a lit hallway, as a motherly type beckons them, she is smiling but we cannot see her eyes.

RUINED HOUSE – HALLWAY – INT. DAY

In the present, BOY crawls under some rubble into what remains of the hallway. He stops suddenly, eye to eye with a MANGY ORANGE CAT. The cat stares back, paw half raised in the middle of a bath. It is clearly surprised to see a person here, now. It is emaciated, skittish, but not feral. They look at each other for a moment, then the cat turns, arching it’s back in a lazy stretch, and walks to the back of the hall in a stately manner. BOY follows.

RUINED HOUSE – EXT. DAY

The soldiers have arrived. The Lead Soldier signals the fire team to silence, they approach the collapsed doorway, weapons at the ready.

RUINED HOUSE – BEDROOM – INT. DAY

BOY has left the hallway and entered what remains of a large bedroom. WE REVEAL – A picture of BOY and a man that looks like it could be his father though the top of his head is torn off, lying broken on the ground, BOY ignores it as he walks into the room. Part of the ceiling is collapsed onto the bed. The withered remains of an arm are hanging out from under the rubble. The Mangy Orange Cat disappears into a hole in the wooden wall at the back of the room. It’s obvious there was a hidden panel in the wall, destroyed by the fighting. BOY follows, drops down, peers into the hole. The cat is curled around several small furry shapes, some move. Some don’t. All around the cats, an enormous amount of currency, in the form of bills, and shiny gold coins lie scattered and stacked. BOY smiles, opening his satchel, he eagerly reaches into the hole.

RUINED HOUSE – PARLOR – INT. DAY

In the parlor, the soldiers have set up a defensive position. Blending in with the debris. 8. The Lead Soldier, stands. Quietly watching the hole out of the hallway. Waiting.

RUINED HOUSE – HALLWAY – INT. DAY

BOY crawls slowly, his bulging satchel closed tight and secured around his precious cargo. He peers out of the rubble in the hallway, and starts to climb out. Suddenly, a hand grabs him roughly by the collar. BOY gasps as he is lifted off his feet. He stares blankly into the eyes of the Lead Soldier, whose face is hidden by a tan balaclava, and shadow. The eyes are steel grey, and hard. The soldier glances down, holding BOY with one arm, he slowly reaches for the satchel. BOY grasps it tighter, shaking his head, as if to say no, NO! Suddenly, (O.S.)Gunfire erupts form across the street. The soldiers, so foreign looking, holler at each other, and return fire. The scene seems chaotic, but the soldiers are calm and efficient. It all seems to be happening in slow motion. Except for the one holding BOY. He grabs the satchel, and wrests it from BOY’s grasp, dropping him to the ground. Opening the satchel, the soldier studies the contents for a moment. Then looks up, staring into BOY’s soul for what feels like an eternity. Bullets whiz by around them, in slow motion. Shouts from the street. An explosion. Finally, the soldier closes the bulging bag, and gently hands it back to BOY, he nods. BOY stares, eyes wide, and nods back, dumbfounded. The soldier points to a window, or what is left of one. BOY nods again, understanding dawning on his face. The soldier turns away, barking orders in a foreign tongue as the battle rages on, full speed.

STREET #2 – EXT. DAY

BOY has escaped the house through the window, the house is now in the distance behind him. The sun is sinking fast. BOY runs. The sounds of the battle fade in the distance. He retraces his steps. All caution gone, he runs. Past the bodies of the soldiers, and the civilian women and the blown up van he had hid under, past the intersection with its empty windows. Back. Back to where he started. Back to Marion.

9. HOVEL – INT. NIGHT

Marion isn’t crying anymore. It is dark outside. She has resigned herself to never seeing BOY again. She sits on a battered stool, her knees up. Staring at nothing in the flickering candle light. She holds a small knife, poised contemplatively above her left wrist. She rocks back and forth slowly. She begins to hum to herself, quietly at first. It is the tune BOY heard the children sing in his flash back. She hums louder and louder, pressing the knife against the pale skin of her wrist. Bang! She is interrupted in her mindless dirge by the door slamming open, she jumps to her feet turning with the knife held before her as a thin protection against the assailants. She drops it to the floor and is suddenly sobbing again. WE REVEAL – BOY. He stands in the doorway, beaming. Bulging satchel held before him like a trophy.

MARION: You- you made it! Marion cries, laughing almost hysterically, disbelieving. MARION: (CONT’D) You made it. You made it home? BOY nods enthusiastically, grinning. He is filthy. Gently setting the bag on the ramshackle table, he opens it.

We see Marion’s face light up with joy, and wonder, as we hear several tiny meows from the bag.

Fade to Black

The End.