A Script for A Bitter Spring Night

TITLE: A BITTER SPRING NIGHT

[SCENE START]

**EXT. RIDGE - DUSK**

The sky is a bruised purple, smudged with industrial haze.

ELIZA (early 20s), face streaked with dirt, gasps for air. Each breath is a raw, desperate scrape. Her lungs burn.

She’s on her hands and knees in slick clay and pine needles. Below her, a skeletal beast of steel and pipework—THE COMPLEX—hums with a bone-deep thrum.

Her knee buckles. A flash of pain. She ignores it.

A faint scent of pine needles triggers something.

<center>FLASH CUT TO:</center>

> **INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY (MEMORY)**

>

> A cheap plastic Christmas tree sheds fake needles. The light is warm, golden.

**EXT. RIDGE - DUSK**

Eliza shakes the memory away. At her side, SAM (early 20s), a dark shadow against the darker slope, whispers. His eyes are sharp, constantly darting.

<center>SAM</center>

> You good?

He doesn’t wait for an answer, already shifting, crawling forward.

<center>ELIZA</center>

> (a puff of air)

> Yeah.

She follows, calf muscle screaming. The air carries a metallic tang that clings to the back of her tongue. It makes her stomach twist.

She crawls, jeans snagging on a sharp rock. A fresh gash opens on her knee. She hisses in pain. Sam keeps his eyes forward, inching toward the crest of the ridge.

They reach it. They lie flat.

Below, the facility sprawls. A maze of corrugated steel walls, floodlights cutting harsh swathes through the gloom.

Two GUARDS in dark, paramilitary uniforms walk a slow, practiced patrol.

Sam raises a small pair of binoculars to his eyes.

<center>SAM</center>

> (murmurs)

> They upped security. Since Tuesday. Just like we thought.

Eliza’s jaw tightens. She remembers the public hearing. The lies. Her mother’s face, tight with suppressed rage.

<center>ELIZA</center>

> (low, a vibration)

> See anything new?

Her heart hammers against the muddy ground.

<center>SAM</center>

> New camera on the southeast gate. Thermal sensor, too. And... the main pumping station has a reinforced perimeter. Three more guys. Heavy gear. They’re not just guarding a construction site anymore.

He lowers the binoculars. His lips are a thin line.

<center>ELIZA</center>

> The old storm drain?

<center>SAM</center>

> Still looks clear. But the water level in the river’s higher than last week. Could be tight.

> (looks at her)

> It’s a long crawl, and it stinks in there. Bad.

Eliza just nods. A grim determination settles on her face. Sam starts moving, sliding backward down the slope. Eliza follows.

**EXT. RAVINE - CONTINUOUS**

They descend into a dark ravine. The overgrown ruts of an old access road guide them. Loose stones skitter underfoot. Eliza slides more than walks, bracing herself with her hands.

The air at the bottom is heavy, still. A stagnant puddle shimmers with an oily sheen. They step around it.

Sam points to the riverbank ahead.

**EXT. RIVERBANK - CONTINUOUS**

The river is a swollen, turbid rush. Debris—plastic bottles, snapped branches—is caught in the current.

Set into the concrete bank is a dark, gaping hole, partially submerged. The entrance to the storm drain.

Sam crouches, shining a small, weak flashlight beam into the impenetrable blackness.

<center>SAM</center>

> Ready?

Eliza takes a breath. The air is foul. She touches the cold, slimy concrete. It smells of decay and raw sewage.

She thinks of her younger sister, LILY, her small, pale face. The fear in Eliza’s eyes solidifies into resolve.

<center>ELIZA</center>

> Yeah.

**INT. STORM DRAIN - NIGHT**

Sam crawls into the black maw. Eliza follows.

The river water is bone-chilling, immediately seeping into her clothes. The air is thick, tasting of damp concrete and metal.

She crawls on hands and knees, pushing forward, trying to ignore the pressing darkness. The only thing in the world is the rhythmic scrape of her knees and the faint, bouncing beam of Sam’s flashlight ahead.

Something brushes her face. A spiderweb. She flinches but keeps moving.

Sam stops abruptly. Eliza bumps into his foot.

<center>SAM</center>

> (whispers)

> Hear that?

A faint, mechanical WHINE grows louder. PUMPING. The low, metallic groan resonates through the concrete, through their bones.

They crawl closer, following the sound.

The tunnel opens into a slightly larger chamber. A faint, SICKLY GREEN GLOW emanates from an opening in the far wall. The air is saturated with a strange, sweet chemical smell that makes their eyes water.

Sam points to the opening.

**INT. PUMPING FACILITY - CONTINUOUS**

They peer through the opening into a VAST, CAVERNOUS SPACE.

Massive tanks glow with an eerie, sickly light. Pipes thick as tree trunks snake across the floor. Conveyor belts carry dark, sludgy material. The smell is overpowering, a mix of chlorine and rot.

Eliza’s hands clench into fists. This is it. The source of the poison. A wave of pure, cold rage washes over her.

Her eyes scan the cavern, landing on a small, elevated CONTROL ROOM tucked in a corner. Its windows are dark.

<center>ELIZA</center>

> (mouthing)

> Control room.

Sam nods, his face grim.

<center>SAM</center>

> (whispers)

> Up there. No visible cameras on that wall.

> (checks his watch)

> Fifteen minutes. That’s all we’ve got.

They find a rusted maintenance ladder leading up to a catwalk that runs alongside the tanks.

The climb is slow, painstaking. Each rung is cold and slippery. The hum of machinery vibrates through the metal. Below, the glowing tanks pulse, casting shifting, spectral light.

They reach the catwalk. A narrow walkway leads to the control room door. A small keypad is mounted beside it.

Sam pulls out a slim device, his fingers moving with practiced speed. A quiet CLICK. The door opens.

**INT. CONTROL ROOM - CONTINUOUS**

They slip inside. The room is small, cramped. A bank of monitors lines one wall, all dark. A single desktop computer sits on a metal desk.

Sam moves to the computer, plugging in a small USB drive. The screen flickers to life. Lines of code, then folders, files.

As Sam works, furiously clicking, downloading, Eliza glances around. A coffee mug. A crumpled wrapper.

Tucked into the corner of a monitor is a family photo: a smiling man, woman, and two small kids in front of a brightly lit Christmas tree.

A cold knot forms in Eliza’s stomach.

A sharp BEEP.

<center>SAM</center>

> Got it. All of it.

The monitors on the wall flash to life. RED WARNINGS.

An ALARM BLARES—a piercing, insistent shriek that echoes through the entire facility.

<center>SAM</center>

> (yelling over the noise)

> They know we’re here!

He yanks her toward the door.

**INT. PUMPING FACILITY - CONTINUOUS**

They burst back out onto the catwalk.

Below, the cavern floor SWARMS with GUARDS. Flashlight beams cut through the green glow. Shouts echo.

<center>SAM</center>

> Run!

He shoves her ahead. Fear cuts through her exhaustion. They scramble back down the ladder, fumbling, almost falling. The rungs scrape her raw palms.

Guards converge on their position below. The heavy THUD of boots on concrete.

**INT. STORM DRAIN - CONTINUOUS**

They hit the floor and scramble back into the narrow drain. The alarm, muffled, still vibrates through the ground.

Eliza crawls, desperate, fast. Sam is right behind her, pushing her on.

<center>SAM</center>

> Keep going! Don’t stop!

The sounds of pursuit echo in the tunnel. Footsteps splashing in the water, getting closer.

**EXT. RIVERBANK - CONTINUOUS**

They burst out of the drain, gasping, into the cold night. The river roars. The alarm is a distant shriek.

They run blindly into the dense undergrowth, away from the complex, away from the lights.

**EXT. WOODS - NIGHT**

They don’t stop until they collapse, hidden deep in a thicket of thorny bushes.

They lie there, panting, shivering. The taste of metallic water and chemical residue lingers. Eliza’s entire body throbs.

Sam, chest heaving, holds up the USB drive. A small, dark object clutched tight in his hand. They have it.

The adrenaline drains away. Eliza looks up at the sky. A few stars have pierced the haze. Small, distant pinpricks of light.

<center>FLASH CUT TO:</center>

> **INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT (MEMORY)**

>

> The living room is quiet. Lily sleeps on the couch next to the family dog. On the couch, Eliza's MOM and DAD sit in silence, just watching the cheap, blinking lights on the tree. A fragile, imperfect moment of peace.

**EXT. WOODS - NIGHT**

Eliza’s expression is no longer just angry or afraid. It’s something harder. A quiet, aching, unshakeable resolve.

The fight is far from over. It has just begun.

[SCENE END]