World traveler. Survivalist, environmental researcher and political news wolf. Born and raised in the last frontier. Educated by mother nature and father time.

         
 

Law of the Wood [2]

An Original Motion Picture - Script
Written by: L T Hunter

[Fade in: Scene One, inside dimly lit two room cabin in rural Alaska. Tight shot
of girl’s face, illuminated by a black and white television. In the background,
immediately behind her are two parents fighting in the kitchen. A single
flourescent light flickers on and off as the argument escalates into a physical
altercation. The frame remains fixed on the girl in front of the television.]

Television Announcer:

‘The world’s most hunted terrorist has struck again. This time at a make-shift
children’s hospital being run by international aide organizations in this remote
village. Several children were killed in the explosion, which wounded dozens
more in what is being called the most horrific act of cowardice in human
history…”

[Cut: Reflection of images are captured in the projection reversal on the girl’s
eyes, you can see the tear begin to form, the scene of carnage, bodies, the
aftermath of the explosion, victims bleeding, relief workers and soliders
carrying out the wounded. The black and white televison getting intermittant
reception.]

Television Announcer:

‘There has been a reward of two hundred million dollars offered for any
information leading to discovery of the terrorist’s whereabouts. People are
cautioned not to approach the criminal as he may be armed and extremely
dangerous. Several leaders are meeting today to discuss their plans to bring
this terrorist to justice…’

[Cut: The black and white television goes off in a shower of sparks as an empty
bottle of alcohol comes from the kitchen and crashes against the screen. The
girl’s unblinking stare continues at the empty screen now smoldering. Her
parents continue to argue and fight.]

[Fade in: Scene Two, inside a classroom at school. Children talking to each
other, while the teacher with a turned back, presents on the chalkboard several
mathematics equations. The girl is sitting toward the back, off to the side of
the rows of desks trying to take notes. Several children pick on her, knocking
some of the books and papers on her desk to the floor. The other children laugh
and point, as she focuses only on her taking notes. A bully picks up her paper
and wads it up into a ball and throws it into the girl’s face. The teacher turns
around, and scolds the student, sending them out of the room, presumably to the
principal’s office.]

[Cut: outside the school, at the playground, students encircle the girl from the
classroom, laughing after taking her backpack, throwing its contents at her,
pushing her around inside the circle they’ve formed around her. The students who
had been scolded and dismissed from class are the most brazen, pulling her hair,
spitting on her, calling her names, yet she seems unflinching, however, some
smoldering anger is almost visible under the surface.]

Librarian:

‘This is the library, and I don’t want you to bring any of your rowdy friends in
here. I saw you out there on the playground. You like to play rough. We will
have none of that kind of behavior around here, is that understood?’

[Cut: inside the library, rows and rows of books are lined like walls of a
fortress. The girl sits at a desk behind a pile of books. The camera pans down
across the titles of these neatly stacked subjects which are labeled ‘The
Middle-East Demographic’, ‘Customs of Iraq’, ‘How to Speak Farci’, ‘The Koran’,
‘Political Science and Terrorism’, as well as many other titles, with the camera
focusing on the last, ‘The Complete Guide to the AK-47’.]

Bully:

‘You’re a stupid little bitch. What do you think you’re better than us? You’re
mommie and daddie are drunks, I see them passing out at the bus stop all the
time. Why don’t you go drink with them? We don’t want you around here….’

[Cut: inside the classroom, with the teacher’s back turned the camera captures
how the girl is constantly harrassed at their slightest opprotunity. As the girl
studies quietly at her desk, the voice of the teacher barely audible, the other
students torment her, kicking her chair, throwing things at her, jeering and
laughing.]

[Cut: inside the parents house, dishes are piled up in the sink, some broken on
the floor, garbage overflowing and piled in corners, the dirty clothes scattered
everywhere. The girl sits in front of the black and white television, its screen
still stained with fragments of glass and the sticky residue left behind by its
contents. The reception seems even more distorted. The reflection on her eyes
shows more tears.]

Television Announcer:

‘This time the attack came on a school bus as these children where on their way
home. All were killed in the attack, including three parents, and three dozen
bystanders. The explosion created a crater some ten feet deep in the middle of
this busy street…’

[Cut: As the girl watches, an arm from out of frame grabs the girl. In the same
continuous shot you can see her being dragged back into a corner and violently
assaulted by her father. It escalates as the camera fades out.]

Librarian:

‘See what did I tell you about fighting. If you hang with your friends this is
always going to happen to you. I am going to call your parents and let them know
that you have been fighting at school. This sort of behavior is so unbecoming a
student at this school…’

[Cut: inside the library, the girl looks at the reflection of her face in the
blackness of a computer screen, her bruises and blackened eye is visible in the
lens right at the point where the monitor comes to life. The screen flashes news
articles from across the globe about the terrorist and the bounty. The camera
pans through another stack of books, ‘Complete Topographic of Afghanistan’, ‘The
Jihad’, ‘Muslim Customs of Women’…]

Librarian:

‘I don’t want you playing on the computer all day. You can’t stay here if you
are going to use the computer to play games…’

[Cut: tight shot, the computer screen shows a spinning globe zooming to various
known terrorist locations, showing satellite images on the screen. You can see
the cursor moving around various points of interest. On a separate window just
out of frame on the same monitor there is an on-line order form for the purchase
of an automatic assault rifle.]

Bully:

‘You got me in trouble with my parents, now you are gonna’ pay. I am sick of
you, all you ever do is sit there thinkin’ that you are better than the rest of
us. I am gonna’ make sure you remember my name.’

[Cut: playground, tight shot, girl getting punched in the face repeatedly. Her
other eye now blackened. The students all encircle them as the girl is beaten
mercilessly. The laughter and shouts, they throw articles from her belongings,
scattering them around the playground. There are shouts from teachers who rush
in to break up the crowd.]

Mother:

‘I can’t believe this. Why were you fighting? The teacher said you’ve been going
into the library instead of class. You are in big trouble. No more television
for you. Go to your room.’

[Cut: house, mother is passed out on the couch, with the television showing yet
another terrorist attack. Cut: fisheye lens of girl in her ‘room’. All of her
books are perfectly aligned on shelves that cover all four walls. The small six
foot by nine foot cell is perfectly clean and ordered. Her bed is made in
military fashion. There are no toys. From under her bed she pulls out a small
locker about the size of a briefcase. Inside there are ivory carvings, small
native masks, and other curious pieces of craft. There is a letter, worn and
well-aged from her grandmother. Suddenly she shuts the case, as the door opens
violently. Her father stands at the door, drinking from a bottle of hard
alcohol, looking at the girl with a sinister hunger. Cut: View from behind as
her father closes the door, a look of horror in the girl’s eyes as it closes.]

Librarian:

‘I know that you will be suspened from school. Trouble-makers like you have no
place here at this school. I am going to let you stay here so long as you are
quiet and don’t make a sound. If I even hear a whisper from you, I’m going to
kick you out with the rest of those dogs.’

[Cut: inside the library, stacks of books encircle the girl on carts, she limps
over to the computer and sits down, with a noticable grimmace. The camera pans
to a screen showing an eBay auction with native collectibles being sold.]

[Cut: inside the library, the carts encircle the girl like walls of a castle.
Inside the circle she reads voraciously, mutliple books are opened, many with
descriptions of explosives, ‘Jane’s Aircraft - The Complete Guide’, as well as
travel brochures and flight information on mutliple airlines. In the center is
an order form for a large jet-black gown, with a headpiece and black veil,
commonly worn by Saudi women in the middle-east.]

[Cut: inside the library, the girl in her only refuge, she begins to cut out
squares on the inside pages, the insides of books into hollow square cavities,
glueing the pages together. From the outside the books appear unmolested. Inside
of each of the hollowed out books, she places loaded thirty-round AK-47 
magazines. The girl stacks them at the bottom of a cart, the camera pans to the
end of this cart, framing in a label on the end, ‘These Books Donated to
Children in Iraq’. The girl opens the small briefcase, now containing an AK-47.
She breaks the assault rifle down into many pieces and carefully hides each in
seperate books. The girl slides the cart back to its place, buried in the
library, as the lights are turned off.]

Father:

‘Where have you been? Don’t you see how you make me argue with your mother? Do
you like us to fight? This is your fault. Go to your room.’

[Cut: inside the girl’s room, from under the bed the girl pulls a long black
gown with a veil, which she folds and places into her backpack. She leaves a
note under her pillow.]

Television Announcer:

‘Two parents die under mysterious circustances possibly alcohol related, a girl
is missing from a rural
town and another terrorist attack by the most wanted
terrorist in the world, next on news at eleven…’

[Cut: outside on a pole, a poster of a missing girl, tattered, as another
annonoymous person posts a poster for a missing dog over it with a stapler]

[Cut: night, outside a large twin turboprop, a long row of women dressed in
black gowns in single-file heading for the aircraft. The last in line, dragging
a large cart, the camera pans to the same sign that reads, ‘These Books Donated
to Children in Iraq’. The girl’s blackened eyes are visible under the veil as
she enters the plane, an attendant closing the door.]

[Cut: almost dawn, outside tents in some unknown mountainous village, fires,
explosions, screaming, chaos. An airplane taking off of a short airstrip, men
running around half-dressed.]

[Cut: tight-shot, outside a tent, slightly more light nearing dawn, close-up of
muzzle of AK-47 in the back of the world’s most hunted terrorist. Various Cuts:
His plain plaid head-dress somewhat out of kilter, his face with two blackened
eyes. The muzzle in his back as he is forced from his tent into the clearing
where lights or fires can be seen in the distance. The veil drops from covering
the girl’s face. The long black gown falls to the ground as she continues to
hold the weapon in the back of the terrorist from the television newscasts,
pushing him toward the lights on the horizon as dawn approaches. Blood falls
behind the girl in a trail, as pieces of paper fall from her pockets. The trail
of littered papers follow the titles with small drops of blood across them, the
wanted poster of the terrorist with the huge bounty, a ‘U.S. Cavalry Catalog’
order confirmation, ‘eBay sales’ confirmation, several paper targets with a
tight-group around the bulls-eye, ‘Technology Review:MIT’, and finally ‘How to
Build a Robot’. The girl falls to the ground as the soliders capture the
terrorist.]

[Cut: prison block, tight shot of the food slot, inside the terrorist can be
seen in a straightjacket. The featureless six foot by nine foot cell, as the
terrorist looks at the food coming through the slot.]

Guard:

‘Here you go, big bad wolf, the only thing on the menu today is mixed nuts, a
couple of bannanas, some chicken, and crackers. If you want anything else you’ll
have to talk to your lawyer, if you can find one, since you’re not gonna’ get
anything from me. If you want some water, drink out of your toilet. And to
think, you we’re such a badass, world’s most ‘dangerous’ terrorist, busted by
some girl.’

[Cut: To a sign, that reveals that the terrorist spent the rest of his life in a
prison cell, color television showing children’s broadcasting, happy smiling
faces, learning to read, going on outings with their parents…]

Law of the Wood [3]


An Original Motion Picture - Script
Written by: L T Hunter

[Fade in: Mountainside just above treeline,
helicopter in the distance approaching, winterscape,
a crystal clear blue sky, man out on the skid in a shieldsuit.]



Narrative:

‘There’s always ah’ been three things, that I’ve been afraid of, a fear of women, fear of heights and being electrocuted. Most people would say that I’m addicted to adrenalin. Most say I am a thrill seeker. And I’ll admit, I’ve always been in a habit of proving myself. It was all about feeling that sensation of fear. But, I first decided to do this job because of the money. The fact that I make more in a week, than most other people make all year. It gives me a freedom, when I take risks like no one else. I always admired my father, and it was me proving to myself that I was a man. There have been days when I regretted the decision. Those thought disappear, right about the time I get on the skid for my ride to work.’

[Cut: Chase camera, from same elevation, slightly above the large forboding electrical power line tower, it’s three huge cables illuminated ghostly with a luminescent glow called a corona effect. Reaching out from the skid, the man touches a wand to the wire. As he does, a huge arc of electricity jumps to the wand. Holding the wand to the surface of the wire, he takes a spring-loaded clamp, with a wire attached to the helicopter, and connects the clamp to the wire. Now the helicopter and the powerline are both energized at the same energy level. As he does, the helicopter, the skid and everything connected to the powerline shares the same eerie glow.]



Narrative:

‘They call it a hot zone. A place where a digital watch will die in less than a second. A place where a wedding-band will induct enough electricity to burn through your finger. The hot zone is that place were we make our money. It is the area around the power line while under load. This one is electrically energized to several million volts. Enough to generate a field of flux, or electromagnetic radiation which surrounds the cable, while it delivers this energy between two points. This line connects two major cities. The greater the amount of power, the greater the distance away from the wire the effect can be felt. Even in this suit, it feels like I’m covered in angry hornets. The radiation tends to form little hot spots, like in the folds of the suit, and especially around metal tools. Sometimes, I could swear you could cut it with a knife. The field, and the fear. Today I am making sure that this line will continue to work flawlessly for another decade. The only thought going through my head is the next move in a well orchestrated routine. One mistake is too many.’

[Cut: Chase camera, from above looking down from overhead, to the ground far below. The man from the skid, replaces a broken piece along the length of the powerline mid-span. Working quickly, he detached the spacer, throwing it into a basket behind him. His hands seem guided automatically. A well-practiced routine is obvious. The pilot looks over to the man on the skid. They communicated with nods, and hand signals, even though both wear, albeit somewhat colorful, flight helmets.]



Narrative:

‘The pilot is the real expert. Flying one of these things is a lot like balancing the tip of one pencil upon the tip of another, while sitting on a spinning merry-go-round. I could never do his job. As I doubt he would want to do mine. The fact that he’s flying a helicopter isn’t as impressive as the fact that he seems to be able to read my mind. Not to mention he’s flying right next to a power line. Cross-winds, wind-shears, temperature shifts called thermals, as well as rain and several hundred other things which cause transistional lift, always seem to want to pull those spinning rotors over our heads, into the high-voltage power-line. One wrong move, from either of us, and both our checks go to the next of kin.’

[Cut: Three-quarter view from below, showing how high off the ground the helicopter is and that the powerline is actually moving in the wind. So is the pilot, matching the oscillations in the wire, gently swaying back and forth like a cork, on a ripple of the pond. The man on the skid takes the wand back to the line, then disconnects the clamp returning it to its place on the helicopter. Slowly the helicopter moves away, and as this happens the man on the skid removes the wand, as the arc forms again until it is broken by the distance away from the wire. The helicopter gains momentum and travels along the line at a clip to the next problem area, down the hill and up along the next ridge. All the while the man on the skid stares at the line, inspecting it for failures. They can see damage along the three runs of powerline as the glow tends to gets brighter where there are problems.]



Narrative:

‘Somtimes my mind tends to wander when we’re out here on patrol. After a while, even the thrill of being on this skid wears off. Tower after tower, mile after mile it’s all the same thing. It’s times like this I recount old stories. I’ve had many apprentices, and here is the story of one I found most interesting.’



_____________________________ End of scene

Law of the Wood [4]

An Original Motion Picture - Script
Written by: L T Hunter


[Flying over mountains, the trees slowly
turning from large majestic spruce, to smaller,
more spindly and sparse ones. The blue sky
slowly fades to growing cloud masses. Tight shot
of man in cabin with camera taking pictures out
the windows from the rear of the cabin.]

Narrator:

‘As we headed further and further north, the weather began to move in which made the sight-seeing a little less than perfect. I put my camera away and decided to catch up on the news.’



[The clouds rolling by, and the sky
suddenly overcast. Tight shot of the
newspaper with large photograph of
girl on the cover, next to another
large photograph of the world’s most
infamous terrorist and a caption in
huge bold faced letters, ‘CAUGHT’.]

Narrator:

‘I was flying into some little known place deep in the backcountry where I was going to meet my guide. His father had been a hunter and trapper of some note.’



[Plane banking tightly, as the inserts of
the newspaper spill out of the inner folds
and scatter across the floor of the cabin.]

Pilot:

‘Oh shit. Are you buckled in back there?’



[Several alarms began howling through the cabin.
The cockpit panels were suddenly lit with blinking
yellow, then red lights. Several dials fell to zero.]

Pilot:

‘Shit, shit, shit, shit….’

[The aircraft began to shake violently, with the distinct smell of oil present, a banging noise grew louder to a crescendo, with the once invisible spinning propeller, churning out three final revolutions and locked with a stutter in a slightly less than diagonal position in the view of the windshield. The two sides of the propeller, each slowly swivelled outward, whirring with its electric actuator to the ‘feathered’ position.]



Pilot:

‘Brace yourself for a rough landing. This is Cessna november-eight-two-six-whiskey, anyone copy? Hey man, listen to me! Strap in dammit. Strap in tight. We’re gonna’ be coming in hot. This is Cessna two-six-whiskey declaring an emergency, mayday mayday mayday, this is Cessna two-six-whiskey declaring an emergency, copy…’



[The mountains below came up fast,
then the spindly trees, as the sleek
aircraft barely spit past large rocky
outcroppings and the tops of bushes
barely three feet from the snowcovered
frozen dirt.]

Pilot:

‘This is Cessna two-six-whiskey declaring an emergency, mayday mayday mayday, anyone copy?’



[A clearing came out of nowhere. A broad and expansive
area rimmed with rather deformed, even surreal trees.]


Narrator:

‘I never really think about death. Perhaps I’ve always been distracted by the busy routine, or the accomplishments I seek to realize. It is something that is always a surprise, since the flood of regrets soon follows.’

[The aircraft hits the ground hard, as the pilot had a difficult time judging the distances and altitude with the white canvas of sky, against the white carpet of snow. Both landing gear and wings folded, in a chorus of bending metal and shredding ice with aircraft. Aerofuel immediately spilled everywhere, inside and out as both tanks ruptured, the plowing aircraft tumbled through the snow. The pilot had not found the time to buckle himself in, and was gruesomely impaled on the yoke, his head snapped back lifelessly, as the aircraft came to its final resting place at the center of a lake in the middle of nowhere.

Narrator:

‘Am I alive?’
____________________________________________ End of scene

Law of the Wood [5]


An Original Motion Picture - Script
Written by: L T Hunter

[Wide angle: Snowfall. Various angles showing just how hard snow can dump from the heavens. Cut: Panorama of clearing skies, at nightfall. Cut: The last whisps of clouds leave. Northern Lights dancing across the sky, the overcast shattered after the hard snow to a blowing wind. Cut: Panning shot of the stars spread out across the heavens; a full moon rising over mountains haunted by the calls of wild animals. Cut: Tight shot of wind blown newly fallen snow, into drifts, masking most of the wreck from view. The belly pod barely visible, only small corners of its cargo scattered, and white lumps in the terrain where debris lay through the large path plowed by an airplane that was soon covered over.]



Narrator:

Snow fell for what seemed like hours. Inside the crumpled fuselage I had managed to climb into a sleeping bag not covered in blood or aerofuel. We had been flying for most of the afternoon, and night came early in these parts. I had found the snap lights I’d tucked into my parka; I was trying to figure out my location on the one of a dozen maps in the pocket behind the pilot’s seat. There was no way of knowing where the satellite phone was, where my laptop computer had ended up, or the one bag that had all the real survival gear in it.

[The lifeless body of the pilot was covered in snow that had blown into the cockpit through the shattered windshield. Snow filled the entire front of the cockpit, drifting between the two command chairs at the helm. Part of the airframe had smashed through the panel, exposing circuits from the inside. The co-pilots headset was still hanging, miraculously on its perch, still plugged into the console.]



Narrator:

I had to try the radio, at least once an hour, on the off chance that somehow, out there in the darkness someone would hear my call. All the while, I figured someone would be showing up in a rescue helicopter. Hours went by. Only answers were silence. Problem was, where we were going, the flight plan wouldn’t show us overdue for at least a week. I had come to the conclusion that at this point, it would be a game of survival.

[Maps were strewn about the tight coccoon at the rear of the plane. Snow had packed against the sides making it impossible to see outside, except for a small portion of the rear window and the hole in the windshield. Huddled inside a large down-filled arctic sleeping bag, a sole survivor contemplated a dire plight.]



Narrator:

The landing, if you could call it that, left me surprisingly uninjured. I had a bruise on my forehead, and felt numb where I didn’t ache. I felt as if I’d went a few rounds in a boxing ring. After I realized I wasn’t dead, I also realized that I needed to change my pants. I kept telling myself this was a bad dream, that I would wake up at some point. The snap lights didn’t last long enough for me to figure out my location. So I decided to sleep, stay in the wreckage, and figure it all out in the morning.




__________________________________End of Scene