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
