PAGE 31 OF 150

EXT. ABANDONED SCHOOL - MORNING

ED KAYNES, his body a mismatch of human fear and zombified resilience, slips through the shattered gates of what was once a sanctuary of learning. A tattered scarf partially conceals his grotesque features, signs of his incomplete transformation into the undead.

Silently, he navigates the overgrown courtyard, each step deliberate to avoid drawing attention. Windows, dark and soulless, gape open like the eyes of the dead—witnesses to the devastation within.

CUT TO:

INT. ABANDONED SCHOOL - CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS

Ed’s entry is a mirror to his internal chaos—a man, formerly a herald of progress, now reduced to a creature of instinct and desperation. His gait, once confident, is now a sober march into the unknown.

He tiptoes past classrooms where silent echoes of children’s laughter are replaced by the somber reality of abandonment. Broken furniture and scattered papers litter the floor—a flashback to the day when life unraveled.

A weak groan echoes down the hall as Ed pauses, a sideways glance revealing a lone zombie staggering between the desks of what used to be a third-grade classroom. Ed suppresses a shudder, steeling himself against the macabre scenery.

He scans the empty, desolate rooms, searching for any sign of his children—backpacks, a stray drawing, a forgotten toy—anything that would offer a shred of hope. But the silence is the only answer.

CUT TO:

INT. ABANDONED SCHOOL - GYMNASIUM - CONTINUOUS

Ed arrives at the gym, a cavernous hollow now home to dust and despair. Sunlight streams through broken skylights, carving shadows that pool like blood on the hardwood floor.

He scans the rafters, a haunting tableau of memories and lost days playing out in the sunbeams. As real as the danger is, it’s the threat of finding irrevocable truth that tightens his chest—a father’s fear, potent even in undeath.

But there’s no trace, no joyous clamor of children, no after-school exclamations. They’re gone, swept away by the cataclysm that swept through their lives like a malevolent tide.

CUT TO:

EXT. ABANDONED SCHOOL - CONTINUOUS

Ed emerges from the school, the line between man and zombie blurred by his faltering, heart-wrenching mission. Desolation repels hope like opposite poles of a tragic magnet.

Torn by failure, Ed turns away from the forlorn landmark of his children’s laughter, now a crypt to his unspoken fear. His eyes, rimmed with the red of grief and infection, look beyond—towards the distant, fortified silhouette of his bunker.

MONTAGE – ED’S JOURNEY TO THE BUNKER:

- Ed’s shadow stretches along the cracked pavement as he trudges through the eerie streets, a spectral figure moving against the grain of desolation.

- At intersections, he ducks into the shadows, avoiding the roving packs of zombies that cluster around the remnants of life—imperfect kin he no longer resembles.

- The bunker’s hidden entrance, a sliver between the ruins, beckons—a sanctuary amid a city usurped by death.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - CONTINUOUS

A blast door seals with an echo, enveloping Ed in the silence of his clandestine refuge. He peels away the scarf, revealing the visage of a man ensnared between two realities.

Amid the quiet hum of survival equipment, Ed perches on the edge of a cot, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees. He is the epitome of the isolated soul—lost in the chasm between the living and the not.

Remnants of humanity nest in the bunker—photographs, clothes, a child’s crayon drawing affixed to a wall. Through the stillness, Ed’s rasping breath is a dissonant chorus, filling the void with his internal war.

ED
(muttering to himself)
I’ll find them—alive or… I must.

He rises, a gaunt figure against the backdrop of monitors flickering with disconnected surveillance feeds. With grim acceptance, he begins to arm himself for the world above, the haven below now a grave to his former self.

END OF PAGE 31 OF 150

PAGE 32 OF 150

INT. ED’S BUNKER - WASHROOM - CONTINUOUS

Ed stands, a tragic figure, before the worn mirror; his flesh sags and his eyes are pools of dread. Clusters of hair slip through his trembling fingers, each strand a part of his old self, relinquishing to the monster he is becoming.

A gasp of despair chokes out as he beholds the naked scalp in the mirror, a stark declaration of his metamorphosis. Tears well up, spilling over, tracing grimy paths down his deformed cheeks.

The bunker trembles, a distant cataclysm making the very earth weep. A shelf rattles and the few personal effects he’s salvaged from his previous life threaten to tumble and shatter.

ED
(Screaming, his voice a ragged echo of rage and fear)
NOOOOO! NO!..NO!
Overcome with grief, he slams a fist against the mirror, the crack spider-webbing across his fractured reflection. His knees buckle, and he sinks to the ground amidst the fallen hair—an island of agony in a sea of cold tile. His wails fill the cramped space, a chilling symphony to a soul in mourning.

And in this moment of anguish, the bunker shakes—dust falling like ancient witnesses to his pain. Shelves rattle, threatening to topple, the explosion’s distant thunder a cruel reminder of the world falling apart above.

Ed’s cries meld with the deep, seismic vibrations from outside, both the internal and external worlds crumbling in unison. In this fortress of solitude, his tether to sanity and solidarity grows dangerously thin.

CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREET – CONTINUOUS

Buildings sway ominously, windows shattering, as a far-off explosion bellows its arrival. Birds erupt from trees as the earth itself cries out in protest.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - CONTINUOUS

The bunker trembles under the assault, the force of the distant blast threatening to breach this last haven. ED braces against the sink, his heart—if it can still be called that—pounding in his chest.

ED
(murmurs in horror)
No… not like this.

His eyes snap to the array of monitors, each flashing a dire warning. A shrouded panic grips him—the outside world is under siege, and time is the enemy once more.

CUT TO:

INT. CITY COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

OPERATORS switch between feeds, each scene more chaotic than the last—a city under the shadow of catastrophic failure. The COMMANDER grabs the microphone, urgency tensing his voice.

COMMANDER
(into microphone)
All units, brace for potential aftershocks. We have confirmation of detonation. This is not a drill.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - CONTINUOUS

ED reels from the shockwave, his once stoic facade crumbling. The instruments and gauges surrounding him now mere spectators to his unraveling.

ED
(hoarse shout)
What have we done?!

He wrenches away from the mirror, stumbling as the ground continues to betray him. A shelf crashes down, its contents—a journal, a photo, remnants of the past—spill across the floor, a poignant reminder of life before the fall.

CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREET - CONTINUOUS

The aftermath of the explosion erupts into a chaotic torrent of action—civilian and military alike now share only the common goal of survival.

AND CUT BACK TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - CONTINUOUS

ED lunges for a two-way radio, the last line connecting him to the world he fought to save—a world that might no longer exist.

His hand caresses the tuning knob, static filling the clean space of the bunker. His voice, modulated by desperation and the unearthly timbre of his new form, crackles into the void.

ED
(into the radio, desperate)
Is anyone out there…? Children… Please…

As the static answers back, heavy and relentless, the camera captures a final shot of ED—an echo of humanity caught in the purgatory between life and death.

FADE TO BLACK.

END OF PAGE 32 OF 150

PAGE 33 OF 150

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

The siren’s wail pierces the bunker’s thick silence, a banshee scream announcing impending doom. ED snaps his head towards the crescendo of alarms, as the room is bathed in the urgent glow of red emergency lights.

On the monitors, live news feeds display a digital clock ticking down ominously, headlines scrolling with relentless speed—the words “IMMINENT NUCLEAR STRIKE” flashing, a stark harbinger of the end.

CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREETS - CONTINUOUS

Aerial shots reveal mass panic as the air raid sirens echo through the streets, desperate citizens scrambling to find shelter. The skyline blurs with the frantic movements below.

CUT TO:

INT. BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

ED stands frozen, the epitome of desperation, as the last fragments of his world descend into chaos. He watches, powerless, as the skeletal outlines of his former life flicker on the screens.

NEWS ANCHOR (ON MONITOR)
(tense, authoritative)
This is not a drill. Seek immediate shelter. A nuclear strike has been authorized and will commence within the hour. May God have mercy on us all.

Ed’s eyes widen with horror at the anchor’s solemn decree. His fist clenches, shattering the radio’s silence.

ED
(into the radio, voice quivering)
Not like this… Please, no…

CUT TO:

INT. SHELTER - DAY

Families huddled together, their eyes glued to portable televisions broadcasting the final countdown. Tears mix with prayers, as they embrace for what could be the last time.

CUT TO:

INT. MILITARY WAR ROOM - DAY

Amidst a flurry of activity, GENERALS and OFFICERS coordinate efforts to mitigate the disaster. On their screens, a digital representation of the missile’s trajectory beelines towards its destination.

GENERAL (V.O.)
(over intercom, grave)
All units, confirm evacuation protocols. Ensure civilian compliance. We’ve done all we can. Prepare for impact.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

With the siren’s song as his grim chorus, Ed scrambles to secure his sanctuary, locking down hatches and reinforcing the entry. Every clank and hiss a harrowing step towards the inevitable.

The camera follows his frantic actions, an intimate dance between man and machine, before pausing on his face—a visage caught between primal survival and heart-wrenching grief.

ED
(whispering to himself)
Survive. Survive for what’s left…

The bunker’s artificial lights flicker under the strain of the external world crumbling. Ed, a sentinel at the end of days, stares down the immensity of his solitude, the gravity of the moment heavy upon him.

His raspy breath is the metronome to the ticking countdown, as the monitors’ once steadfast streams stutter—a digital heart rate faltering as the world prepares for its last beat.

END OF PAGE 33 OF 150

PAGE 34 OF 150

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

The stubborn hum of outdated technology fills the air as ED hunches over the mainframe terminal of the bunker, his fingers a flurry over the backlit keys. The screen before him flashes with layers of security access prompts and firewalls, a digital labyrinth of his own design.

Ed’s mind, a cocktail of desperation and scientific prowess, races to unlock the secrets he once safeguarded so fervently. With each override command, he peels back the digital veils shrouding his research, his city’s downfall, the truth.

With a final keystroke, he breaches the mainframe security. The floodgates open, and data streams onto the monitor—classified communications, military intel, the command chain’s last orders, the enormity of the impending strike.

ED
(voice barely a whisper, laced with dread)
Oh, what have we done…

The screen maps out the grim reality—a schematized web showing the approaching missile’s trajectory, projected fallout patterns, and the bleakest scenarios outlined in stark numeric certainty.

CUT TO:

INT. MILITARY COMMAND BUNKER - DAY

Generals hunch over radar screens, the forewarned cataclysm reflected in their stoic faces. Behind them, a wall-sized world map blinks with the Morse code of impending doom.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

Ed’s horrified gaze traverses the information on-screen. His infected constitution wrestles with the gravity of what’s coming—ignited not by a zombie’s viral urges but by a man’s conscience and heart.

ED
(grappling with the scope of the cataclysm)
There’s gotta be… there must be something else we can do… Anyone…

He scans the screens for any sign of hope, a ceasefire, an alternative to the end. But the truth is unyielding, encoded in the logic of machines and strategic calculations.

CUT TO:

EXT. OBSERVATION POST - DAY

A lone soldier stands sentinel, binoculars to his eyes, the distant whistle of the incoming missile harmonizing with the wail of the air raid sirens—a requiem for the world he knew.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

Ed slams his palm against the terminal, the pain insignificant against his racing thoughts. Bitter laughter, a guttural sound devoid of humor, escapes him as he contemplates the irony—the mad scientist, the living dead, now the audience to Armageddon.

ED
(to himself, the laugh collapsing into a growl)
We played with life and death… and now we pay the price.

He rises, each movement a struggle as he opens a secure drawer, retrieving a dusty bottle of whiskey, a relic from a past life. He unscrews the cap and takes a swig, the burn a fleeting reminder of human sensations.

Ed’s bloodshot eyes, tinged with yellow, fix on the countdown—a digital grim reaper ticking away the seconds of existence.

FADE OUT:

END OF PAGE 34 OF 150

PAGE 35 OF 150

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

The bunker, once a bastion of safety, becomes a tomb as the hollow echoes of explosions reverberate through its concrete walls. ED stands still, the ghastly light of the monitors painting his face as each distant blast grows closer, louder, a chorus of annihilation gaining fervor.

He grips the edge of a console, knuckles white, each rumble a hammer strike against the shield of isolation he’s erected around himself. The shockwaves travel through the floor, a tremor through the heart of the earth.

CUT TO:

EXT. OUTER LAYERS OF THE CITY - CONTINUOUS

Overhead shots reveal fiery blooms littering the landscape, each a bitter bloom of conflict. Plumes of smoke claw at the sky, trying to blanket the sun with their unforgiving shadows.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

Panic fractures Ed’s stoicism as the bunker’s survival systems activate in response to the escalating threat. Crimson alarms flare, casting a sinister glow. The ventilation system churns violently, fighting against the onslaught of the inferno waiting outside.

Each detonation outside is a gut punch to the facility, the sound magnified by the silence it disrupts. Flickering screens cast erratic shadows across the walls, creating an ominous dance of light that foreshadows the end.

ED
(voice choked with dread)
This is how it ends… Not with a whimper, but with a bang.

CUT TO:

INT. FAMILY SHELTER - CONTINUOUS

A FAMILY huddles together, their embrace a fortress within the shuddering bunker. Children clutch their parents, eyes wide and uncomprehending, as the reverberations of the unthinkable shake their sanctuary.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - CONTINUOUS

Ed slumps into his seat, resigned, the bottle slipping from his grip and rolling across the floor. The world outside may be ending, but his torment continues unabated—a curse of the undead.

A single tear—unclear if it’s from sorrow or the zombie affliction—trails down his face. He watches the countdown dwindle; humanity’s tenure ticking away before his crypt-colored eyes.

FADE OUT:

END OF PAGE 35 OF 150

PAGE 36 OF 150

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

The bunker convulses as if gripped by an unseen giant, the roar of the impact wave a deafening crescendo punctuating the still air. ED is launched from his chair, thrown to the unforgiving floor as the earth itself seems to spiral into chaos.

Around him, the walls tremble, panels and ceiling tiles clattering down in a discordant symphony of destruction. The monitors blink erratically, skewing the horrific show they present—something between reality and electronic hallucination.

CUT TO:

EXT. CITYSCAPE - SAME MOMENT

From afar, a nightmarish scene unfolds as the impact wave rips through city blocks, turning structures into dust and dreams into nightmares. The force is indiscriminate—it tears through steel like paper, glass like vapor.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

Ed clutches at debris, dragging his altered body across the trembling floor, desperately attempting to anchor himself in a world that refuses stillness. His roars match the sound of tearing metal and shattering concrete—primal, raw, filled with terror.

CUT TO:

SERIES OF SHOTS - BUNKER’S DISTRESS:

A. The once orderly rows of canned goods and emergency provisions cascade onto the now-tilting floors.

B. Water pipes burst, geysers erupting in formerly dry rooms, while electrical sparks create a dangerous light show.

C. A portrait of Ed’s family, clinging to the wall, now slips free and crashes to the ground, the glass protecting their smiles shattering.

BACK TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

Ed, crawling through the mayhem, reaches for the bunker’s emergency protocols—a last-ditch hope to seal away the cataclysm that hunts for him within his sanctuary. Lights flicker overhead, many winking out, as the integrity of their fixtures fail.

He hits the master lockdown button, and with a metallic groan, reinforced doors slide shut, drowning the chaos into muffled fury. The sanctuary becomes sarcophagus.

Over the din of destruction, Ed’s distorted cry resonates—half man, half beast, all despair.

ED
(screaming above the noise)
Survive! I must… survive…

The camera pulls out from the scene, leaving Ed a solitary, writhing figure amidst the anarchy that ensnares him—an amalgam of man’s hubris and the savage grip of nature’s retribution, locked in a bunker, locked in turmoil.

FADE OUT:

END OF PAGE 36 OF 150

PAGE 37 OF 150

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

Amidst the chaos and the runaway dance of shadows and light, ED struggles against the unforgiving floor that refuses to stay still beneath him. His limbs, misshapen by his condition and shaken by the concussive forces, push against the tiles with a strength born from the darkest depths of survival instinct.

Grit and dust cake his flesh as he labors for breath, a horrifying rasp that competes with the bunker’s groans and the distant, thunderous booms that refuse to fade away.

Pain lances through him; whether from the fall, the shockwaves, or his own internal transformation, it’s impossible to tell. But it fuels him, drives him—the agony a reminder of life amidst a landscape that speaks only of annihilation.

CUT TO:

EXT. CITY RUINS - SAME MOMENT

A cloud of dust and debris blankets the horizon where the city once teemed with life. The singular fury of the initial blast has given birth to countless offspring—sporadic eruptions that devour the remnants of a world now confined to memory and echoes.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

Ed gasps, his body hauled up to an unsteady crouch, fingertips white-knuckled as they grip a shattered piece of the console for support. Desperation swims in his eyes—a cocktail of torment, the will to endure, the knowledge that to succumb now is to surrender to the void.

He scans the room through the haze, sees the sealed blast doors, the blinking red of systems barely clinging to function. In this stolen pause, where death seems to have drawn in a breath, Ed finds a semblance of order amidst the tumult.

ED
(voice a raspy whisper tinged with determination)
Not yet… Not today…

Tremors wrack his form, but they cannot break the spirit that fuels his battered frame. This bunker, this grave, this womb—it will not be his terminus.

With a shake of his head, Ed stands fully, a testament to defiance. His cries subside to murmurs, to mantras of survival that carry him forward—a symphony played against the thunderous backdrop of the world’s end.

FADE TO BLACK:

END OF PAGE 37 OF 150

PAGE 38 OF 150

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

The bunker’s foundation rattles under the relentless assault, dust cascading like tiny waterfalls from the ceiling. ED, half-zombie, stands amidst a glistening coat of sweat and grime, swaying unevenly as the earth beneath him convulses.

He fixates on the emergency lighting, its flickering a spasmodic dirge to the rhythm of apocalypse, his mind racing with primal urgency. Every painful breath is a struggle, drowning in a sea of helplessness and confusion.

His flesh, marked both by the zest of the undead and the scars of scientific torment, stretches over his hands as if trying to flee from the bone. His ashen lips mutter a garbled prayer to loved ones lost to either fate or the flame.

Ed staggers forward, a mote of dust in the grim tableau of his sanctuary. He salvages a heavy crowbar from the scattered arsenal of survival tools. Its heft gives him a grotesque sense of purpose—a weapon against the barriers that cage him.

Footsteps echo with thunderous intent, resonating upon the metal floor, as he assumes the stance of one prepared to battle titans. With a grunt, he wedges the crowbar into the seams of a heavy looking hatch, muscles and sinews bulging in grotesque relief against his lab coat.

The strain reddens his eyes, fueling veins with an unnerving fervor. Gritted teeth are bared, the intonation of pained struggle filling the space, as he channels every ounce of his monstrous strength into the task.

The metal groans, protesting, as if the very bunker itself is aware of Ed’s unwinnable war against time. With each incremental victory of leverage, the raw scrape of crowbar against hatch is a requiem for reason, a siren call of the myriad dead and dying above.

ED
(straining, a whisper to himself)
Survive, protect, endure… No matter the cost.

A sudden lurch, and the hatch gives way, surrendering to Ed’s determination with a scream of yielding steel. A dim shaft of light, alien in the confines of the bunker, pierces the grimy air—a fragile thread leading back to the chaos of a once familiar world.

Ed, panting, a line of blood trickling from where the crowbar had slipped, rights himself—a ghastly architect of his own salvation or doom, straddling two realms he never wished to know.

The bunker stands defiant, its heart now exposed. And as the camera zooms out, Ed, the anomaly, reaches toward the beckoning light—a specter grappling with the very essence of existence and annihilation.

FADE TO BLACK.

END OF PAGE 38 OF 150

PAGE 39 OF 150

EXT. CITYSCAPE - DAY

From the depths of the bunker, ED emerges into a world transformed beyond recognition. A vast wasteland of destruction stretches before him, the cityscape now a twisted shadow of its former self.

The ground, littered with debris and the remnants of buildings, challenges every step. Yet Ed advances, his silhouette a stark contrast against the backdrop of a demolished city.

CUT TO:

INT. ED’S BUNKER - COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS

Back inside the shaking bunker, Ed’s hands move with purpose, fueled by an unyielding instinct for survival and protection. He scans the room, now a collapsed chamber of his former life, searching for anything that will aid his escape.

He spots his toolbox, hurled by the tremors to a corner. Within lies a collection of tools, each associated with a memory of maintenance and preparedness, each now essential for a far grimmer purpose.

CUT TO:

EXT. RUINED STREET - CONTINUOUS

Ed navigates the treacherous terrain. He grips a robust pipe wrench, repurposed now as a cudgel to fend off the encroaching undead and clear his path of obstacles.

His movements are mechanical, devoid of the finesse of the living but driven by a persistent will that seems almost alien in these ruins. Each swing of the wrench is a statement of defiance, a claim to life in a realm of death.

CUT TO:

EXT. COLLAPSED BUILDING - CONTINUOUS

Ed approaches a mound of rubble where a building once stood. Determination etches his features as he sets about methodically removing pieces of concrete and twisted metal.

With each thrust and pry of his makeshift tools, he paves a way through the destruction. His movements are heavy but precise, the products of a mind that refuses to surrender to defeat.

CUT TO:

EXT. RUINED OVERPASS - CONTINUOUS

Ahead lies the skeletal remains of what was once a vital overpass, its concrete bones a grim parody of the city’s past prosperity.

Ed braces himself and climbs, his upheaved hands finding cracks and purchase among the debris. His progress is slow and arduous, but the sight of the overpass’s peak, a symbol of hope, spurs him onward.

CUT TO:

EXT. CITYSCAPE - HIGH ANGLE - CONTINUOUS

Ed reaches the summit of the overpass and pauses, his gaze sweeping over the horizon. The wreckage stretches as far as the eye can see, but this height gives perspective—there is a path to be forged, a direction to take.

He takes a deep breath, the air a mingled scent of dust and destruction, and raises his wrench high. It’s a gesture of both challenge and resolve, a signal that his journey through this nightmare has only just begun.

FADE TO BLACK.

END OF PAGE 39 OF 150

PAGE 40 OF 150

EXT. RUINED CITYSCAPE - DAY

ED’s lone figure is dwarfed by the gaping wound of the city. His every step is a testament to his unshakable resolve. The wrench, now an extension of his will, pierces the rubble blocking his path.

CUT TO:

EXT. COLLAPSED SUBWAY ENTRANCE - CONTINUOUS

Ed approaches the maw of a collapsed subway entrance. Sunlight pierces through the cracks, casting slivers of light that dance on the mangled steel and broken tiles.

With each piece of debris he removes, the way forward becomes clearer. He works in silence, his breaths and the sound of falling concrete the only interruptions in the deathly quiet.

CUT TO:

INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS

The darkness of the tunnel envelops Ed as he descends. The beam from his makeshift torch, fashioned from a rag and salvaged alcohol, flickers against the walls, throwing exaggerated shadows around him.

He navigates the shattered remains of the underground with a mixture of zombie-like indifference and human caution, the two natures merged into one being, surviving by instinct and intellect.

CUT TO:

EXT. ABANDONED HIGHWAY - CONTINUOUS

Ed emerges onto the cracked surface of a highway, once a vein pulsing with life, now a silent artery in a dead metropolis.

He takes a moment to scan the expanse for movement, for any sign of those like him or worse. Empty cars stand as monuments to a sudden catastrophe, their doors agape, their stories untold.

CUT TO:

INT. CRUSHED CAR - CONTINUOUS

Ed peers through the window of a half-collapsed vehicle. Inside, a skeleton grips the steering wheel, a stark reminder of society’s abrupt end. For a moment, Ed sees himself—not so different from the bones.

CUT TO:

EXT. RUINED CITYSCAPE - OVERLOOK - CONTINUOUS

Climbing atop a pile of rubble that offers a vantage point, Ed scans the horizon. His heart, whatever is left of it, aches. The city lies in ruins, but amidst the desolation, there is a faint echo of hope—a whisper of life.

CUT TO:

EXT. NARROW CREVICE BETWEEN BUILDINGS - CONTINUOUS

Ed finds a narrow passageway, wedged between two faltering skyscrapers. The space is tight, claustrophobic, but the fresh air beckoning from the other side is unmistakable—a breath of the world beyond.

He squeezes through the gap, the walls scraping against his flesh, now so foreign to pain. As he emerges, the air hits him like a wave of the past. It’s tinged with the acrid scent of smoke and decay, yet underneath it all is the undeniable smell of survival.

CUT TO:

EXT. RUINED CITYSCAPE - CONTINUOUS

Ed stands at the threshold of the crevice, the firmament open before him. He takes a long, deep breath, feeling the air churn within his lungs—half-life, half-death. A resolve settles deep within his marrow.

He steps forward, leaving the shadows behind. Ahead, the path is fraught with ruin and remembrance, but it is his to tread. With the wrench slung over his shoulder, Ed sets out into the sunlit devastation, a figure of determination silhouetted against the crumbling silhouette of a fallen world.

FADE OUT.

END OF PAGE 40 OF 150

КАК ВЫ ДУМАЕТЕ, ОДНА СТРАНИЦА СЦЕНАРИЯ СООТВЕТСТВУЕТ ОДНОЙ МИНУТЕ ЭКРАННОГО ВРЕМЕНИ?