FADE IN:
EXT. MOUNTAIN TRAIL - DAY
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGE looms like a wall of jagged stone.
Brutal. Ancient.
Mist clings to towering pines -- thick, low.
Everything is still.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
FOOTSTEPS. In rhythm.
A YOUNG WOMAN (20s), athletic, jogs alone through a dense
pine forest. Earbuds in. Hood up.
Pines lean in.
Branches arch overhead like claws.
She runs deeper.
THROUGH THE TREES
A faint RUSTLE.
Behind a curtain of fog --
Something massive moves, flowing like liquid shadow.
BACK TO JOGGER
She slows -- posture tightening.
The pines around her exhale -- a soft, synchronized rustle,
like lungs filling.
Then stillness.
She quickens her pace.
THROUGH THE TREES
Her figure appears in fractured glimpses through the mist.
Then --
A low GROWL vibrates the air. Deep. Resonant.
BACK TO JOGGER
She stops. Pulls out one earbud --
Silence.
Her jaw tightens. Eyes dart.
Pulls out the second earbud --
The forest rushes in --
Wind in branches. A distant bird. Her breath.
Then --
Nothing.
She exhales. Laughs. Shaky.
Turns to go --
SNAP.
A branch behind her jerks violently, recoiling from pressure.
She spins --
Eyes wide. Scanning...
Nothing.
Sound DROPS AWAY, drenching the scene in an uneasy, eerie
silence.
She backs up a step...
WHAM!
A MASSIVE SHAPE explodes from the trees in a blur of CLAWS
AND FANGS -- smashing into her like a wave hitting the shore.
She hits the ground hard. Screams -- choked, guttural --
then slides into shadow.
The forest exhales.
Then --
Silence.
Stillness.
A single, blood-slick sneaker lies abandoned in the dirt.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Climbing Through Breath
EXT. MOUNTAIN CLIFF - DAY
A hand clamps down on a rock face -- fingers straining,
dusted in chalk.
CLARE LOCKWOOD (30s) ascends a sheer granite wall. Every
muscle taut.
Her face -- a mix of quiet determination and weariness.
Clare climbs with disciplined rhythm -- precise, economical.
Halfway up, her breath hitches.
She pauses, one hand locked on a hold, the other drifting
instinctively to the inhaler clipped to her harness.
She doesn’t use it -- just touches it, grounding herself.
A slow inhale through the nose. A longer exhale.
Her breathing steadies. She pushes on.
Below her, the world falls away --
The Rocky Mountains stretch endlessly, a dizzying drop into
shadowed wilderness.
Clare closes her eyes.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Whispers of the Mountain
EXT. MOUNTAIN SUMMIT - DAY (FLASHBACK)
YOUNG CLARE (10) sits beside her father, RAY LOCKWOOD (30s),
a slab of a man, on a sunlit peak high above the clouds.
Her cheeks are red from the cold, eyes wide with wonder.
Below them, the world stretches endlessly --
Pine forests fade into a blue haze.
RAY
Up here. The world stops.
He closes his eyes, listening.
RAY (CONT'D)
And if you listen close enough...
You can hear the mountain breathe.
YOUNG CLARE
Breathing? Really?
He nods, half-smiling -- coughs. Dry. Harsh. Wrong.
RAY
It’s alive. Everything up here is.
Even the silence.
The sound of the wind shifts.
It grows deeper. Subtly wrong.
A low, almost imperceptible hum creeps in. Like a heartbeat
hidden beneath the mountain.
Clare tenses. Sits up.
YOUNG CLARE
...Do you hear that?
Ray’s smile fades. He looks at her sharply -- but says
nothing.
The sky dims slightly. Clouds roll in from nowhere.
YOUNG CLARE (CONT'D)
Dad?
Ray places a hand on her shoulder.
RAY
Time to go.
Behind them, the trees sway -- not with the wind, but
together. In rhythm. Like breathing.
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Drama","Adventure"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Cliffside Urgency
EXT. ROCK FACE - DAY (PRESENT DAY)
She opens her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips, and
reaches for the next hold.
CRACK.
A rock dislodges, tumbling into the void until it disappears.
Her phone vibrates on the strap around her arm --
A faint buzz against the cliff face.
She ignores it.
Keeps climbing.
It buzzes again. Longer than before.
Clare mutters to herself, annoyed.
She shifts her weight and fumbles the phone free.
CLARE
This better be good, Bill.
BILL (V.O.)
(beat)
Deadly attack up in Black Ridge. I
need you and Jack on-site now.
Clare’s grip tightens on the stone. Her eyes harden.
CLARE
Jesus, a fatality?
A pause. Only wind hissing through.
Then -- a rough exhale.
BILL (V.O.)
Just get up there, Clare.
Clare exhales sharply -- looks down past her boots -- down
the sheer rock wall --
Into the forest sprawling far below.
Genres:
["Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Unspoken Tensions
INT. COLORADO PARKS AND WILDLIFE OFFICE - DAY
Clare pushes through the door, dressed in field gear.
Her eyes land on JACK COLLINS (40s), a good soldier turned
civilian, sitting with his boots propped on the desk.
A scar at Jack’s throat catches the light --
Pale and twisted, like an old wound that still whispers.
CLARE
You talk to Bill?
Jack lowers his boots and studies her.
JACK
Yeah. Jogger went missing
yesterday. They found her this
morning.
(beat, dry)
Well... parts of her.
Clare doesn't blink.
Jack leans back with his arms crossed -- sizing her up like
he’s measuring how much weight she can carry.
JACK (CONT'D)
You've got that look.
CLARE
What look?
JACK
Same one from... God, what -- the
second winter we worked together?
CLARE
Third.
(beat)
And don't start.
Jack gives a small laugh -- not amused, but appreciative.
JACK
Look -- the mountains get weird
this time of year.
Clare snaps open her rifle case -- slides her .270 Winchester
out with clean efficiency.
CLARE
Then let’s not keep them waiting.
Jack shrugs into his field jacket and grabs his gear.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Wilderness and Wounds
EXT. MOUNTAIN PASS - DAY
The white CPW truck rumbles along a narrow, winding road,
carved into the mountainside.
Towering pines and jagged cliffs loom on either side.
INT. TRUCK - DAY
Clare grips the wheel -- focused, steady.
Jack sips from a battered gas station coffee cup, steam
curling upward in lazy spirals.
The truck rounds a bend, and the world opens up through the
windshield --
The majestic Rocky Mountains rise in a jaw-dropping panorama.
Immense. Sacred.
Clare eases off the gas instinctively, letting the view
breathe.
JACK
Never gets old, does it?
CLARE
Nope.
(beat)
Feels like they're watching us.
Jack chuckles, amused.
JACK
The mountains don't care who you
are.
CLARE
That supposed to be comforting?
JACK
Only if you're humble.
Jack leans toward the window, letting the silence between
them stretch.
The pines blur past like brushstrokes in motion.
Clare’s face softens. A moment of awe, unguarded.
They round another curve, and the landscape changes.
The road descends into a scar --
An open-pit mine, vast -- gaping like a wound in the earth.
Trucks the size of houses crawl through switchbacks.
Plumes of black dust rise like smoke from a dying fire.
Clare’s fingers tighten on the wheel.
CLARE
We sell postcards of paradise so
they can dig it up -- pave right
over it. Cut it into something
manageable. Something safe.
JACK
People sleep better thinking the
wild can be tamed.
CLARE
(dry)
Until it reminds them it can't.
Jack glances out the window as a dump truck empties tons of
raw stone into the dark pit below.
The mountain groans in the distance -- too deep to be a
sound.
A heavy silence settles.
Clare’s gaze drifts to the treeline -- dense, dark, watchful.
Up ahead, a battered yellow highway sign pierces the mist --
“BEWARE OF MOUNTAIN LIONS.”
Clare flinches. Like a reflex.
Her breath stutters. Her eyes flick down.
Her hands -- white-knuckled on the wheel.
A long, faded scar cuts across her index finger -- a memory
she never talks about.
JACK (QUIETLY, NOTICING)
You okay?
Clare doesn’t answer.
CLARE
You ever feel like the mountain
remembers?
Jack’s brow furrows. Not sure what she means — or maybe he
is, and doesn’t want to say.
JACK
I try not to think that far back.
Clare forces her shoulders to relax.
Reaches into her jacket.
Pulls out an inhaler.
Takes a sharp, practiced pull.
The hiss cuts through the quiet.
She holds her breath, closes her eyes for a second longer
than needed.
CLARE
It doesn’t forget. It just waits.
They drive on.
The trees seem to lean closer.
EXT. BLACK RIDGE - DAY
The CPW truck rattles into the remote mountain town, dwarfed
by the jagged Rockies looming on all sides.
The place feels isolated -- a pocket of civilization clinging
to the wilderness.
A battered roadside sign creaks in the wind --
“WELCOME TO BLACK RIDGE – ELEVATION 9,412 FT.”
As the truck rolls down the only main street, we see --
A strip of cabins, a weathered gas station, a diner, and a
general store with antlers nailed above the door.
The air feels heavy. Quiet. Too quiet.
The truck passes the diner, its neon sign sputtering “OPEN.”
For a split second, the “O” flickers out -- reading “PEN.”
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
The Sheriff’s Scrutiny
INT. SHERIFF’S OFFICE – DAY
The office is cramped, dusty, and too warm.
Behind the desk, SHERIFF BAUER (late 60s) -- built like an
oak that refuses to fall -- leans back with his hat tipped
low.
He lifts the brim as Clare and Jack enter.
Sharp eyes. Measuring.
SHERIFF BAUER
You the wildlife folks?
CLARE
Clare Lockwood, Colorado Parks and
Wildlife.
This is my partner, Jack Collins.
Bauer pushes himself to his feet -- slow, deliberate, every
joint announcing itself.
He takes his time looking them over.
His gaze rests on Jack a second too long.
Not hostile -- assessing.
Then he shifts to Clare, studying her face like he’s
searching for a resemblance he’s half convinced he sees.
SHERIFF BAUER
Mm-hm.
(beat)
You better follow me.
He turns toward the hallway.
Clare and Jack exchange a glance -- something tight, uneasy.
They follow.
Their boots thud against the warped floors, each footstep
echoing like it’s traveling farther than it should.
INT. HALLWAY - DAY
Sheriff Bauer pushes open a heavy door at the end of a
cinderblock hallway --
Air leaks out -- cold. Heavy.
SHERIFF BAUER
Brace yourselves.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Morgue Revelations
INT. MORGUE - DAY
A cold, windowless chamber. White tile, scuffed and stained.
An old steel autopsy table dominates the center of the room.
A body bag lies atop it -- zipped shut.
Sheriff Bauer stands grim, one hand braced on the table.
He nods toward the bag.
His fingers linger on the zipper.
Clare sets her jaw. Steps closer.
Sheriff Bauer pulls the zipper...
The sound is long and metallic, slowly revealing --
A torso ripped open, ribs fractured outward.
The face --
Frozen mid-scream -- half-gone, cheek shredded to the bone.
One eye is glassy -- the other missing entirely.
Deep claw marks score across the abdomen.
Clare swallows hard -- leans in, eyes narrowing.
She traces a gloved finger along the ribcage.
The wounds are jagged and vicious.
CLARE
Cervical vertebrae fractured in
three places... Jugular...
completely severed.
Jack traces his fingers over four deep, evenly spaced gouges
that stretch from the victim’s ribs to her hip.
Clare’s stomach tightens.
JACK
Claw marks appear to be --
Clare calculates the spread in her head.
CLARE
-- Over eight inches across...
(to herself)
Doesn’t make any sense.
Clare steps back, processing.
Jack exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw.
A cold sterility hangs in the air -- disinfectant, metal,
decay -- but something else lurks beneath it.
A thin, acrid chemical scent threads through the room.
Not strong. Not obvious.
Just enough to catch the back of the throat.
Clare’s nose wrinkles first.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Do you smell that?
Jack leans in, sniffing above the body. His brow tightens. He
smells it too.
JACK
Yeah.
(low)
What the hell is that?
They exchange a look -- unsettled -- as the cold room
suddenly feels smaller.
Clare leans in over the torn tissue -- a strange, fibrous
material threads through it like something halfway between
muscle and root.
She touches a gloved finger to the edge of the wound --
A faint whisper brushes her ear.
Not the room. Not Jack.
A man’s voice.
RAY (V.O.)
It knows you're here.
Clare flinches -- just a flicker -- eyes darting to the
corners of the room.
Nothing. Only the hum of the refrigeration unit.
She steadies herself, masking the moment.
SHERIFF BAUER
You ever seen a mountain lion do
that to somebody?
Clare's face hardens. In her eyes -- a flicker of doubt.
CLARE
We need to investigate the attack
site before we draw any
conclusions.
Sheriff Bauer moves to a nearby metal filing cabinet and
pulls out a map, laying it on a side table.
He circles a spot on the map -- taps on it with his pen.
SHERIFF BAUER
One mile northwest of the main
trail as the crow flies.
CLARE
We’ll head there now while we still
have daylight.
Sheriff Bauer studies them for a beat, then nods.
Jack and Clare turn toward the door.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
The Watchful Forest
EXT. FOREST CLEARING - DAY
Jack and Clare step into a clearing -- scarred, silent,
wrong.
Blood stains the dirt in wide, jagged arcs -- almost black.
Clare stops over a MASSIVE PAW PRINT, bigger than her boot,
sunk impossibly deep.
She crouches.
CLARE
Look at that depth. That’s not
normal weight distribution.
Jack kneels beside her, eyes narrowing.
JACK
This thing isn’t just big. It’s
wrong.
The forest has gone dead still -- no birds, no wind.
Clare looks up --
The trees feel closer now.
Watching.
She rises slowly.
Jack's hand shifts toward his rifle -- alert.
FLASH.
Something slips between the trunks. Gone.
Clare's breath catches.
CLARE
It’s watching.
WHOOSH.
A bird erupts from the canopy, cawing in raw panic.
Jack stops cold, rifle half-raised.
Not breathing. Not blinking.
Eyes locked on the treeline, finger hovering just off the
trigger guard -- a soldier’s muscle memory battling a ghost.
Then --
A ROAR rolls across the valley.
Long. Heavy. It rattles bones.
Every tree in the clearing bends slightly toward it -- in
sync.
The roar fades...
But the trees keep moving, pulsing with a heartbeat that
isn’t theirs.
Clare turns to Jack -- he’s stuck in it, jaw locked, breath
shallow, pupils blown wide.
Clare steps close.
Quiet. Even.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Jack.
(beat)
Hey -- look at me.
Jack’s eyes flick to hers. Barely.
She lowers his rifle with two fingers, steady but gentle.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Breathe. Match me.
She inhales slowly through her nose.
Jack copies -- shaky.
His shoulders unlock. The tremor in his hand eases.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Let's set those traps and get back
to town.
Jack swallows hard, finally coming back to himself.
The forest goes still again.
THROUGH THE TREES
TWO YELLOW EYES blink.
Watching. Waiting.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Stormy Reflections
INT. DINER - NIGHT
A small-town diner. Faded linoleum floors.
Clare and Jack sit in a cracked vinyl booth near the window.
SANDY (50s), with kind eyes and nicotine laugh lines,
approaches with a coffee pot, smelling faintly of vanilla and
diner grease.
SANDY
Evenin.’ Coffee?
CLARE
Please.
Jack nods. Sandy pours. The coffee steams like oil.
SANDY
Kitchen’s slow tonight. Storm’s got
folks spooked.
JACK
Storm?
SANDY
First big one of the season.
Rolling down from the Divide by the
afternoon. You two still plan on
being around when it hits?
Clare glances at Jack.
CLARE
Looks that way.
Clare studies Sandy -- more unsettled than she lets on.
CLARE (CONT'D)
How's the pie here?
SANDY
Dangerous as my third ex-husband.
CLARE
I'll take a slice.
JACK
Make that two. Thanks.
Sandy nods -- shuffles off with the coffee pot.
Clare’s attention drifts -- pulled by something she can’t
quite name.
Across the diner, at a corner table half-buried in shadow,
WALTER (60s) sits alone with a bowl of stew growing cold.
He’s still, too still, like someone waiting for a cue only he
can hear.
Clare’s gaze slides over him.
For a heartbeat, Walter looks up -- meeting her eyes with
quiet, uncanny calm.
Not curiosity.
Assessment.
Clare blinks, unsettled.
Walter drops his eyes back to his spoon as if nothing
happened.
Jack's gaze grows thoughtful.
JACK (CONT'D)
Ever believe in something you
couldn't explain?
CLARE
I believe in evidence and
explanations.
JACK
I'm all for science, reasoning,
things making sense, but
sometimes... not everything adds
up.
CLARE
You sound like my father.
Clare’s eyes drift to her reflection in the window -- a pale
ghost in the glass.
CLARE (CONT'D)
He died when I was twelve. He was a
scientist with faith. Rare breed.
(beat)
Wanted me to be a rodeo queen.
Ride a horse named... Starburst
Thunder. Wear sequins. Smile like I
meant it.
Jack leans back, smirking.
JACK
Starburst Thunder. Now that's a
name of destiny.
They share the first real flicker of warmth.
Sandy returns with two plates, setting them down with a
clatter.
CLARE
Speaking of destiny, why’d you
leave the Army?
Jack leans back, his face unreadable.
JACK
Platoon got ambushed outside of
Kundar. RPG hit the lead truck.
Everything turned to fire and
static.
Clare’s jaw tightens -- not judgment, but recognition. She
finally looks at him. Really looks.
JACK (CONT'D)
Men I trained with were screaming.
Smoke everywhere. Couldn’t see a
damn thing. And I just...
(shakes head)
Locked up.
His hand starts to shake. He hides it under the table.
Clare shifts back -- subtle, instinctive.
CLARE
Freezing doesn’t make you a coward.
It just means you’re human. Trust
me -- I’ve worn that silence
before. Almost didn’t walk away
from it.
Something vulnerable flashes across his face.
JACK
Been out here over twenty years.
Wolves, bears, coyotes -- even the
occasional rogue cat. But this?
This doesn't hunt like an animal.
Clare stares out at the black ridgelines -- jagged and
shifting in the dark.
CLARE
Whatever it is... it's not
finished.
The diner lights flicker -- then hum, louder. A sound that
doesn’t belong.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
The Watchful Forest
EXT. FOREST CLEARING - DAY
The sky is overcast -- a low ceiling of clouds presses down
on the mountains.
Clare clenches her jaw as they enter the clearing.
The circle of traps -- exactly where they set them.
UNDISTURBED.
The bait rags --
GONE.
Only damp strings dangle where they were tied.
Jack kneels by one of the steel traps --
The jaws remain cocked -- unsprung.
JACK
Smart son of bitch.
Clare crouches beside him.
CLARE
A problem solver.
Jack glances at her, unsettled.
He moves to another trap and kneels.
He brushes pine needles aside to reveal --
A massive, deep PAW PRINT beneath.
JACK
Tracks don't make sense. Whatever
it is... it's changing how it
moves.
CLARE
Maybe it's something we haven't
seen before.
Clare’s gaze turns to claw impressions gouged into damp soil
-- subtle drag marks weave between pines.
Clare rises, brushing dirt from her gloves.
Jack nods his head and stands -- rifle ready.
Clare takes her inhaler from her pocket -- takes a deep pull.
The forest seems to lean closer -- listening.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Clare's Adventure Begins
EXT. MOUNTAIN HOUSE - DAY (FLASHBACK)
A clapboard cabin perches on the edge of a vast wilderness.
The Rocky Mountains rise behind it like the ribs of an
ancient, slumbering god.
YOUNG CLARE (11) steps off the back porch, a satchel slung
over one shoulder, a hunting knife nearly half her size
strapped to her hip.
YOUNG CLARE
I’m gonna go check the traps!
From inside the house --
RAY (O.S.)
You know the rules. Bring your
knife --
YOUNG CLARE
-- I got it, Dad.
She pats the handle of the knife like it makes her
invincible.
RAY (O.S.)
Good girl. Don’t be long.
She heads into the trees.
The air shifts.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
The Mountain's Test
EXT. MOUNTAIN FOREST - DAY
Sunlight spears through the canopy in fractured shafts.
The cabin disappears behind a wall of trunks.
Clare slows. Her breathing grows shallow.
A faint RUSTLE.
She places her hand on the knife.
Then another sound --
A whispering scrape -- like teeth grinding just beyond the
veil of trees.
She draws her knife quickly -- careless -- nicks her finger
with the blade.
YOUNG CLARE
(whispers)
Shit.
Blood beads along her skin, running in a perfect crimson
thread.
A GUTTURAL SNARL rips the silence open like fabric.
Clare freezes.
Something emerges from the brush --
A MOUNTAIN LION. Ten feet of muscle and inevitability.
Its tawny fur bristles -- amber eyes glowing like molten
coins in a black forge.
It paces slowly -- a ghost made of muscle and instinct.
The beast’s tail slices the air like a whip.
Clare’s fingers shake.
The knife dips.
She swallows a scream.
The lion crouches -- legs coiling.
It lunges at Clare with blinding speed, jaws gaping --
BANG!
A rifle shot cracks like thunder.
The lion jerks mid-air -- collapsing in a heap with a wet
thud.
Still.
Ray steps from the trees -- a face carved from stone and
shadow.
His rifle smokes faintly in his hand.
He walks over to the beast -- nudges it with his boot --
Dead.
Clare doesn’t move.
Blood trickles down her hand, dripping onto pine needles
below.
Her eyes stay locked on the corpse.
Ray kneels beside her, one hand firm on her shoulder.
RAY
Never go this deep alone. You’re
not ready yet.
She nods -- barely.
RAY (CONT'D)
The mountain has rules. And
sometimes, it sends things to test
you.
Her gaze shifts back to the dead lion --
Its jaw hangs slack, but its eyes still seem to watch her.
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
The Contaminated Meadow
EXT. MEADOW - DAY (BACK TO PRESENT)
Trees thin. Trunks arch like cathedral pillars.
Clare and Jack push through the last row of pines -- stop.
A wide, open meadow unfurls before them --
Once pristine -- now defiled.
Something black stains the ground, spreading outward in veins
and spirals like oil slicks.
The silence is profound.
Clare steps forward first, boots crunching.
Then she sees it --
Dozens of carcasses --
Elk, deer, bear, and wolf -- scattered across the field.
Antlers jut upward like thorns from the ground.
Bodies twist -- inverted -- locked in poses of agony.
Jack moves beside Clare, swallowing hard.
They walk deeper into the clearing.
The air grows heavier -- thick, sweet, metallic.
Clare kneels beside an elk --
Its eyes -- gone -- just sockets filled with a black resin
glistening like tar.
She leans in. The tissue gleams -- wrong.
Jack crouches over another corpse --
The animal’s hide shimmers -- stretched thin, translucent --
like waxed paper.
Underneath, something moves --
A ripple, faint but unmistakable.
JACK
What in the fuck?...
He presses the butt of his knife against the hide --
It yields. Soft. Sponge-like.
A black fluid seeps from the puncture -- sizzling faintly as
it hits the ground.
CLARE
Don’t touch it.
Jack stumbles back.
The smell hits -- sweet and chemical, like burnt sugar mixed
with bleach.
Clare turns, her face lit with horror and awe.
Her gaze catches something further ahead --
A mound of black fur. Huge.
A BLACK BEAR.
She approaches slowly, her shadow stretching across its
massive body.
The torso -- ruptured outward -- bones bending back like a
ribcage forced open from within.
She circles it.
Freezes. Looks down --
The bear has TWO HEADS.
Both half-formed, fused at the neck, one mouth frozen mid-
snarl.
She stares down in mute disbelief.
Then --
A faint shimmer.
From a mound of fur on the bear's head, a cluster of
translucent filaments rises --
Slow, deliberate, almost graceful.
They twist upward in spirals -- like smoke made of glass
threads and pollen.
SPORES.
Tiny, golden. Drifting weightless into the cold air.
Jack steps back, instinctively holding his breath.
The particles wobble and scatter, catching sunlight through
the trees.
Clare’s eyes lock on them, horror dawning.
One of the spores lands on her glove -- etching a dark spot
into the fabric.
Behind her, the wind carries the rest of the spores into the
trees.
SNAP.
A loud crack echoes through the underbrush --
They whirl around, rifles raised --
Only silence. Stillness.
Then --
A DEER steps from the tree line --
It’s gaunt, skin patchy -- fur falling away in strips.
Three grotesque sets of antlers sprout at odd angles --
Its eyes glow faintly yellow in the dim light.
It stares at them. Not afraid. Not curious. Just... wrong.
It takes one slow, deliberate step forward.
Jack steadies his rifle.
The deer twitches violently -- head jerking.
Bones pop under the strain of some invisible force.
Then --
It emits a scream --
Not a bleat, not an animal sound, but a horrific, guttural
human-like WAIL.
The noise ricochets through the forest.
Clare flinches, her hand flying to her ear.
Jack stumbles back, rifle raised, shaken.
The deer lurches, convulses -- then bolts into the trees.
Its twisted antlers crash through branches as it disappears,
leaving silence in its wake.
The clearing goes deathly quiet again.
Jack exhales -- breath shaking.
CLARE (CONT'D)
The infection rewires them first.
Then they die.
JACK
Whatever it is, it's airborne.
CLARE
If something like this reaches the
plains, it'd be "Game Over" for the
entire Front Range.
Her words hang heavy in the air.
Clare turns toward the ridgeline.
For a split second --
A massive silhouette moves along the crest.
Then -- it steps back into darkness.
Jack shoulders his pack.
JACK
Come on. We're losing light.
Clare lingers a beat longer -- uneasy.
The clouds darken overhead.
The winter storm presses closer.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Secrets in the Storm
INT. LOCKWOOD HOUSE - BASEMENT - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
Rain pelts the tin roof. Thunder trembles the wooden
floorboards.
A bare lightbulb flickers overhead as YOUNG CLARE (11) creeps
down the stairs, barefoot, clutching a worn blanket around
her small shoulders.
At the bottom sits a heavy iron door -- cracked.
A faint GLOW pulses from inside.
Clare pushes the door with trembling fingers.
It opens wider -- revealing her father, hunched over a
cluttered workbench.
Vials. Fungal cultures. Old wildlife specimens.
And in the center, a metal lockbox with a stenciled symbol:
BIOHAZARD – U.S. ARMY PROPERTY.
Ray’s shoulders tense.
He turns slowly.
His face: exhausted, pale, lips trembling.
RAY
Clare? It’s late. You shouldn’t be
down here.
Clare steps in -- small, brave.
YOUNG CLARE
What are you doing down here,
Daddy?
Ray swallows hard, his eyes drifting to the lockbox.
RAY
Just... work. Nothing for you to
worry about.
Clare inches closer.
YOUNG CLARE
Are you sick?
He freezes.
Then kneels, meeting her eye level.
RAY
Sometimes we think we’re curing the
world, when really we’re just
changing it.
Clare doesn’t understand -- but she hears the fear beneath
his words.
Ray gently cups her cheek.
Behind him, the lockbox emits a faint thrum, like a
heartbeat.
The sound pulls Clare’s gaze.
Ray follows her eyes -- snaps the box shut with trembling
hands.
He forces a weak smile.
RAY (CONT'D)
Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.
He pushes himself upright -- then suddenly doubles over,
coughing into his sleeve -- the sound is strangled, wrong.
He braces against the table, his knuckles whitening.
Clare rushes to him.
YOUNG CLARE
Dad!
Ray steadies himself, forcing a breath. His eyes glisten --
not just with pain, but with fear he’s trying to hide.
RAY
I’m fine. Just... pushed too hard
today.
He tries to smile but winces as another tremor ripples
through him. He hides it behind a hand.
He places his other hand gently on Clare’s head, brushing her
hair back -- a gesture practiced, protective.
He ushers her out, closing the heavy iron door with a
shuddering clang.
A metallic bolt slides into place.
IN THE LOCKED ROOM
Darkness.
Then -- a faint throb.
The lockbox pulses, golden light leaking through the seams --
perfectly synchronized with a deep, distant heartbeat.
A glass sample tube glimmers in the dim light.
LABEL:
“RAY LOCKWOOD — BLOOD SAMPLE.”
The liquid inside it shifts, catching the glow -- as though
alive.
The heartbeat grows louder.
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Unearthed Secrets
EXT. MOUNTAIN SLOPE - DAY (BACK TO PRESENT)
Storm clouds churn low, smothering the ridgeline. Unseen.
Clare and Jack push through snarled underbrush, branches
scraping their jackets.
They break into a clearing -- a pocket of land carved
unnaturally smooth, as if something once stood here.
Jack slows.
Clare moves ahead, her boots sinking into mud that squelches
with each step. A faint chemical smell burns the air.
There -- HALF-BURIED IN THE EARTH --
A rusted steel blast door juts from the hillside, tilted at
an odd angle.
The frame has collapsed inward, the mountain reclaiming it.
Mud and rock spill over its edges.
The faded stencil barely survives:
“U.S. ARMY – ACCESS RESTRICTED.”
Jack stops cold.
JACK
I used to hear stories about places
like this. Guess they weren't just
stories.
Clare brushes tangled vines aside with her glove, revealing --
A cracked, yellowed BIOHAZARD sign lies half-dissolved by
decades of weather.
Her breath catches -- her lungs tighten.
Jack notices.
JACK (CONT'D)
You okay?
Clare nods, not believing her own answer.
CLARE
Got a weird feeling about this
place.
Jack steps closer, examining the bent doorframe.
Barbed-wire fencing lies collapsed around them -- not cut,
but bowled over, flattened by some massive force.
JACK
Floods must’ve hit this place hard.
(beat)
Or something else did.
The wind shifts -- carrying a faint, ghostlike wisp of scent.
Her breath catches.
That same acrid, metallic-sweet chemical note hits her --
identical to the morgue and meadow.
Subtle. Wrong. Unmistakable.
CLARE
Jack... It’s here.
Jack smells it too, a shiver running through him.
JACK
Same as the body and the meadow.
The breeze dies abruptly -- leaving the air unnaturally
still.
Clare presses her shoulder against the warped door, bracing
her feet in the mud.
The metal GROANS, protesting -- a sick, guttural sound like
an old animal waking.
Jack steps up beside her.
JACK (CONT'D)
On three.
Clare nods.
CLARE
One... Two --
The door jerks open before they reach three -- as if
something inside pulled it.
They stumble back.
A wave of cold, stale air spills out -- thick with dust.
The beam from Clare’s flashlight pierces only a few feet
before dissolving into black.
She takes a breath -- a final moment of hesitation.
Then she steps across the threshold.
Her flashlight disappears into the dark.
Jack swallows, gripping his rifle.
JACK
(to himself)
Too old for this shit... whatever
this shit is.
He follows her in.
The storm rumbles overhead.
INT. ARSENAL CORRIDOR - DAY
Flashlights cut through the darkness as Jack and Clare step
into the corridor.
Concrete walls sweat with condensation. Rust streaks like
blood down the seams.
Rotted warning placards peel off the walls --
"NO ENTRY – HAZARDOUS MATERIALS."
A puddle of oily black liquid stains the floor -- burning
faintly with a rainbow sheen.
The stench of rot and chemicals lingers in the air.
Clare covers her mouth with her sleeve and shines her beam at
the end of the corridor --
The sign above a cracked glass door reads "BIOSAFETY LAB -
LEVEL 4 - ACCESS RESTRICTED."
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Echoes of the Past
INT. BIOSAFETY LAB - DAY
The door swings open to reveal --
A decayed laboratory, half-swallowed by vines and rust.
Jars clouded with sediment line the shelves.
A massive observation window, cracked but intact, overlooks
an empty containment cell.
CLARE
This was a BSL-Four research lab.
The highest level of
biocontainment.
Jack wipes condensation from an old command console.
JACK
Old school hardware. Pre-digital.
Jack moves to a dusty filing cabinet. Opens it. Inside --
Old lab logbooks.
Jack pulls a water-warped logbook from the file -- mold
creeping along its spine.
He cracks it open. The paper groans.
JACK (CONT'D)
(reads)
"Neural amplification exceeds
baseline projections. Predatory
cognition elevated."
(beat)
Jesus...
He flips a page. Eyes scanning fast.
JACK (CONT'D)
They cross-spliced human DNA with a
fungal vector. Animal-specific
virus. No human transmission.
CLARE
It's not zoonotic.
Jack turns another page --
His breath hitches -- sharp, involuntary.
He stares at the document like it just blinked at him.
JACK
(reading, low)
Lead scientist... Doctor Ray
Lockwood.
The name hangs in the air for a long, heavy beat.
CLARE
That’s my father.
Silence.
Then --
WHISPER-SLICK -- something wet slides past the doorframe.
Too close. Too deliberate.
Jack drops the file -- SPLAT -- pages scatter like frightened
birds.
They both freeze.
Beyond the cracked observation window --
A silhouette lingers. Hulking. Half-seen.
It shifts, gliding fluidly, inhuman.
Jack reaches for his rifle, slow and quiet.
JACK
(low)
We need to move. Now.
Clare doesn’t respond -- she’s still staring at the file,
lips parted.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Pursuit in the Shadows
INT. CORRIDOR - MOMENTS LATER
Clare and Jack sprint down the corridor.
Their footsteps echo into the dark.
Above them --
A BULKY, OUTDATED SECURITY CAMERA hangs crookedly from a
rusted bracket.
Its lens -- cracked but functional -- slowly swivels.
A small red LED blinks steadily -- mechanical, indifferent.
The light pulses like a heartbeat. Watching.
From the darkness behind them --
TWO YELLOW EYES ignite. Unblinking.
The creature charges -- its limbs echoing like a drumbeat.
Then --
Another set of eyes flickers behind the first.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Escape from the Arsenal
EXT. ARSENAL ENTRANCE – MOMENTS LATER
Clare and Jack BURST out of the steel door, sliding into the
open air.
They stumble as they sprint across the slope -- weapons
raised, boots skidding.
Behind them --
The dark mouth of the arsenal yawns like an open wound.
Then --
DOZENS OF YELLOW EYES IGNITE IN THE DARKNESS.
Layered. Blinking. Multiplying -- a blooming fungus of living
fire.
A chorus of guttural growls swells up the throat of the
mountain.
Hungry. Coordinated. Coming.
Clare freezes only a beat -- then grabs Jack’s sleeve.
CLARE
Jack. Move.
Jack’s eyes widen.
Glowing eyes shudder forward -- shapes massive and wrong.
He raises his rifle, hands trembling.
His breath catches. Shoulders lock.
His gaze goes blank -- staring at the dark, just like the
burning Humvee he once described.
Jack doesn’t move.
Clare steps in front of him, grabbing both sides of his face,
forcing his eyes to hers.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Jack -- hey! Look at me.
Nothing.
Clare shoves him once, HARD, snapping him back into his body.
CLARE (CONT'D)
(urgent, low)
You’re here. Not there.
Jack’s throat works. His eyes blink.
One breath -- then another. His hands steady slightly.
Massive SHAPES slip from the arsenal doorway.
Clare yanks Jack’s arm.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Now MOVE!
Jack snaps out of it -- fully present. He nods, breath sharp,
controlled.
Together -- they run.
JACK
It's like they're... coordinated.
CLARE
Something bigger than them is
pulling the strings.
They tear down the mountain trail as --
THE STORM BREAKS OVERHEAD.
Snow rips sideways in sheets.
Wind howls like a living thing.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Secrets in the Storm
INT. SHERIFF'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Snow slams against the windows in thick sheets.
Sheriff Bauer sits behind his desk, rolling a toothpick
between his teeth, eyes heavy-lidded but sharp.
Clare and Jack stand across from him -- posture rigid, the
air between them thick with tension.
CLARE
There's a buried arsenal up there,
Sheriff. Start talking.
Sheriff Bauer doesn’t answer right away.
He just stares, long and flat, as if he’s weighing how much
truth she deserves.
He exhales through his nose.
SHERIFF BAUER
Some things don't stay buried. They
wait.
Sheriff Bauer tilts back in his chair. The old wood creaks.
His hand drifts across his desk to an old silver flask.
He unscrews it, takes a slow drink, never breaking eye
contact.
SHERIFF BAUER (CONT'D)
Back in the Cold War, they built
something up there. Army boys
rolled in -- trucks, fences,
floodlights. Said it was "storage
and manufacturing."
(beat)
Then one winter -- they vanished.
No trucks. No men. Just... gone.
Clare stills.
CLARE
Vanished?
Bauer nods -- slow, deliberate.
A flicker of something old in his eyes.
SHERIFF BAUER
Whole damn operation wiped clean
overnight.
JACK
What happened?
Bauer shifts his toothpick -- jaw tight.
SHERIFF BAUER
Nobody ever said. But people
talked. Said there was a breach.
Something got out.
Clare frowns.
CLARE
And nobody’s been up there since?
Bauer lets the toothpick fall --
It lands with a soft tick against the table.
SHERIFF BAUER
Nobody’s not the word I’d use.
Black trucks come through now and
then — no plates, no chatter. They
check the site. Always at night.
But two weeks ago, the pattern
changed. Now they’re here almost
every day. Maybe whatever they
buried... stopped sleeping.
Clare and Jack exchange a look, unsettled.
The wind screams outside --
Windows tremble like they might shatter.
The lights flicker...
Then DIE.
JACK
(under breath)
And there goes the power.
Fantastic.
Clare clicks on her radio -- static.
She pulls out her cell phone -- no service.
SHERIFF BAUER
Storm’s taken the lines. We're on
our own now.
A powerful gust shudders the entire building.
Then --
A sound rises under the storm. Low. Guttural. A growl. Not
close, not far. Moving.
Jack grips his rifle tighter, scans the window...
The growl echoes again, closer now.
A chorus of branches SNAP in the dark.
Clare takes a step toward the window -- stops short when she
sees Sheriff Bauer’s face -- not surprised.
He’s pale, jaw set, eyes locked on the storm outside -- like
he’s been waiting for this night for a long time.
SHERIFF BAUER (CONT'D)
Folks around here talk about the
spirits in the mountains, warning
us to stay out. But I think maybe
the spirits were never the
problem... it was us all along.
Sheriff Bauer grabs his twelve-gauge from behind the desk,
racking it with a metallic snap.
SHERIFF BAUER (CONT'D)
The diner’s got backup generators.
We can hole up there till mornin'.
Jack exhales, chambers his rifle.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Nightmare in the Snowstorm
EXT. SHERIFF'S OFFICE - NIGHT
The storm rages, a howling whiteout devouring the street.
Clare, Jack, and Sheriff Bauer burst from the office, rifles
clutched tight.
Their boots sink into drifts, breath fogging instantly in the
frozen air.
JACK
Don’t lose sight of me!
They push forward, bent against the gale.
The diner’s neon sign glows faintly through the storm --
A trembling red beacon half-swallowed by snow.
From above --
A low, guttural GROWL cuts through the wind. Almost human.
Clare freezes -- whips her rifle around.
Snow whirls so thick it blinds her -- nothing but white.
Then --
A MASSIVE SHADOW LAUNCHES FROM THE ROOFTOP
Pouncing on Sheriff Bauer in a flash -- sending him through
the air.
The beast’s razor claws tear into his throat --
His body collapses to the snowy ground --
The twelve-gauge spins -- vanishing into the blizzard.
The beast pins him --
Its claws elongate into barbed hooks -- then drive through
his chest --
The snow beneath him flowers red in an instant.
Clare and Jack whip up their rifles.
BANG! BANG!
Muzzle flashes strobe in the storm.
Both rounds hit the beast -- blood mist bursts into the snow.
But the beast barely flinches.
Its head tilts unnaturally, neck bones popping --
It fixates on Clare -- staring.
Sheriff Bauer thrashes beneath it, blood pouring from his
wounds.
SHERIFF BAUER
(choking)
Help -- help me.
The beast ROARS, the sound splitting the night like a
thunderclap.
Its claws rake downward --
Splitting Sheriff Bauer’s coat, flesh, and ribs in one
effortless motion --
Blood sprays across the snow in arcs, steaming in the cold.
His scream curdles into a bubbling gurgle.
The beast lowers its head -- bites into his skull with a wet,
horrifying CRUNCH.
A toothpick falls into the snow, stained red.
Clare’s hands shake on the rifle.
Her breath catches in her throat, eyes wide with shock.
Jack grabs her arm, yanks it hard.
JACK
He’s gone! He’s gone -- let's move!
The beast lifts its gore-slicked muzzle, releasing a low,
resonant GROWL.
From the swirling white all around them, other growls answer.
Shadows shift in the blizzard.
YELLOW EYES ignite in the dark.
Clare and Jack sprint toward the diner’s flickering neon glow
-- their figures swallowed by the storm.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Night of the Monstrous Hunt
INT. DINER - NIGHT
The door slams open -- wind howls in, carrying flurries of
snow.
Clare and Jack stumble inside, soaked, pale, streaked with
blood.
The door whips behind them -- they throw their weight into it
-- forcing it closed.
Sandy freezes mid-pour behind the counter, where Walter sits.
BILL (60s), broad, whiskey in hand, looks up from his booth
in the corner.
SANDY
You look like you saw the devil and
shook his hand, Officer Lockwood.
Walter flinches almost imperceptibly.
WALTER
(quiet, to himself)
Lockwood...
He quickly hides it.
CLARE
Lock all the doors. Now.
The words hang in the air like smoke.
SANDY
I never close early... not in
twenty-five years.
Jack slams a bloodied hand on the counter with a sick SPLAT.
Cups rattle. The room stills.
JACK
Sheriff Bauer’s dead.
A silence falls. Deep. Suffocating.
SANDY
What -- what happened?
Clare hesitates, eyes darting to Jack.
CLARE
Mountain lion. But not the kind you
know.
A shadow passes over the frosted window -- massive, fluid,
predatory.
BILL
I've hunted much worse than a rogue
mountain lion. They bleed and die
just like us, sweetheart.
The fluorescent lights flicker, buzz, then dim.
THUD.
The wall shudders.
Cups jump -- silverware clinks.
SANDY
(whisper)
What was that?
THUD.
Then --
A slow, dragging scrape -- metal against metal -- moves down
the outer wall. Deliberate. Patient.
The same acrid, metallic-sweet chemical smell hits Walter.
WALTER
I know that smell. Some things
don't stay buried up here.
Jack raises his rifle.
Sandy bolts the doors.
Bill mutters curses under his breath -- doesn't move from his
booth.
Through the frost --
Two YELLOW EYES glow faintly, moving along the window like
lanterns in the fog.
Then --
The lights DIE.
BLACKOUT.
Silence hangs heavy.
CLICK.
A lighter flickers in Jack’s hand -- the small flame
illuminating his hard features.
JACK
Stay silent. Don't move.
The lighter's flame quivers as he steps forward.
Somewhere in the dark --
A fork DROPS to the floor.
The metallic sound is deafening.
The kitchen door cracks open just an inch --
A draft of cold air snakes through.
SHHHK.
A scrape against the window glass.
For an instant -- three sets of glowing YELLOW EYES appear in
the window.
Then darkness swallows them.
Clare raises her rifle.
Jack edges toward the kitchen door, rifle raised, lighter
trembling.
Through the kitchen door’s crack --
A faint shimmer of fur and the sound of wet breathing.
Jack's flame flickers out --
Darkness consumes the room.
Then --
The sound of something dragging metal. Slow. Heavy.
Jack sparks the lighter again, revealing --
A crouched shape, enormous -- hunched between steel racks.
Its maw glistens with teeth, dripping black saliva.
It looks up --
The lighter dies again --
Darkness.
Stillness.
Then --
The beast BURSTS from the kitchen in an explosion of motion.
Jack fires --
BOOM!
The blast blows apart the pie carousel --
Glass rains down.
The beast slams into a booth in front of Bill --
Claws carve through vinyl and wood like tissue.
Bill sits still. Silent.
Then he unsheathes a large hunting knife.
He stands up --
He lunges for the beast -- plunging the knife into the
creature’s haunch.
The beast ROARS.
It swipes once -- catching Bill’s arm.
Bill’s body slams into the wall -- his arm hanging by threads
of flesh.
SANDY
Oh my God! Bill!
Clare fires --
BOOM!
The round hits -- the creature’s shoulder bursts in dark red
spray.
Before the beast can react --
Jack grabs a fire extinguisher and unleashes a blizzard of
white --
FWOOSH-HISSS.
The lion reels, momentarily blinded, its tail whipping and
smashing cups and plates.
CLARE
Get behind the counter!
Sandy sobs into her sleeve as she and Walter crawl behind the
counter.
The room falls silent. Still.
Then --
THUMP.
From above.
Snow falls from the rafters.
THUMP. THUMP.
JACK
They’re on the roof.
The ceiling groans.
Beams SNAP.
Suddenly --
A LION crashes down in a blur of SNOW AND CLAWS.
Then --
ANOTHER LION crashes down from above.
WALTER
We need to get out of here and go
to the old mine tunnel just past
the gas station.
Bill groans in the wrecked booth, half-conscious, blood
seeping from his shattered arm.
BILL
He’s right. The mine tunnel ends at
the radio tower, you can call for
help there.
Clare and Jack exchange a grim, wordless look.
Jack reloads.
JACK
Let's go.
The lions pace in the shadows.
-- In a flash, a lion pounces on him, engulfing him in one
brutal SNAP.
CLARE
Run!
Jack hurls a chair toward the beast. Firing as he moves --
BOOM! BOOM!
The blast blows out the front window --
Cold rushes in -- the neon “OPEN” sign flickers like a dying
heart.
They shove through it, Sandy and Walter first, Clare and Jack
behind.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Fleeing the Alpha
EXT. MAIN STREET - NIGHT
The group bursts from the broken window into the whiteout
storm.
Wind shrieks like a banshee, snow blinding.
Jack shoves Sandy and Walter ahead of him, rifle raised.
Clare freezes mid-step.
Cold sinks into her bones -- not from snow, but from
something darker.
She turns slowly -- back toward the diner...
Through the blowing snow and flickering neon haze --
THE ALPHA.
Towering. Primeval. Wrong.
Vast as a transport truck. Waiting like a judgment.
Molten gold eyes burn through the blizzard.
Its head -- crowned with BUFFALO HORNS -- flashes red from
the dying neon sign.
Its fur writhes in the wind --
A shifting tapestry of shadow and sinew stitched from
nightmares.
A cauterized surgical incision runs vertically down its
chest, sealed with metal sutures -- half-rusted.
The beast lifts its head --
Time stops.
The air grows thick. Heavy.
Snow hangs mid-fall.
Then --
The Alpha ROARS.
Windows SHATTER.
The neon sign DETONATES, flaring like a dying star.
Glass rains down in fire-laced shards.
From the broken windows of the diner --
LIONS SPILL OUT.
EXT. GAS STATION - NIGHT
The group stumbles past the dark, snow-buried pumps.
Walter points with his lantern.
WALTER
Tunnel’s just down the hill!
The group pushes deeper into drifts.
From the rooftops --
SHADOWS lunge -- lions bounding across snow-laden beams like
specters.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Into the Darkness
EXT. MINE - NIGHT
Snow slashes sideways in violent sheets, turning the world
into a strobing white void.
The group pushes toward a cave-like mouth carved into the
mountainside --
An old mine entrance, half-collapsed, framed by rotted
timbers.
It yawns open like a forgotten tomb, breathing cold air.
Sandy whimpers, clinging to Jack’s sleeve.
Walter lifts the lantern. Its flame gutters in the storm.
WALTER
Stay close. Stay quiet.
Without hesitation, he steps inside—his silhouette swallowed
by darkness.
Jack follows, then Bauer and Sandy, each vanishing like ink
drops into the cave’s mouth.
Clare hesitates at the threshold.
The storm roars behind her.
She glances back—
Between the trees, through the blizzard, several faint YELLOW
EYES blink into existence.
Low.
Steady.
Watching her with predatory patience.
They don’t advance.
They don’t retreat.
They simply wait.
Clare exhales, a measured breath.
She steps into the mine --
-- and immediately the dark bites down, swallowing the storm
behind her.
A gust of wind slams the entrance support, jarring loose a
rusted chain connected to a warped iron gate -- half-buried
in snow, half-forgotten.
Jack, farther in, turns.
JACK
Clare -- pull that shut!
Clare yanks the chain. The gate groans awake, screeching
across frozen rails.
It takes everything she has, her boots slipping on the icy
stone --
SCRAAAAAPE—CLANG.
The gate slams shut just as a SHADOW lunges at the threshold
from outside.
Something hits the other side with a heavy THUMP, rattling
dust from the ceiling.
Clare staggers back.
Then, from beyond the iron bars, the faintest exhale -- hot
and animal -- mists through the gaps before the storm
swallows it.
The lantern glow ahead flickers.
WALTER (O.S.)
(quiet, echoing)
This way.
Clare grips the chain one more time -- making sure the gate
holds -- then moves deeper into the mine.
The darkness closes behind her, sealing them in.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Into the Depths
INT. MINE - NIGHT
The storm fades as the group moves into the black. The wind
replaced by silence.
A tunnel breathes around them -- alive, watchful.
Their flashlights flicker down rusted rails and old support
beams.
Mineral veins glint faintly in the stone -- light trapped in
ancient seams.
A low groan echoes. Maybe a beam settling. Maybe not.
WALTER
This runs two miles -- straight to
the old Army tower.
(beat)
Only way out.
JACK
You know these tunnels?
WALTER
Worked security here. Back when it
was a mine. Thirty years ago.
CLARE
If this spreads off the mountain --
entire ecosystems could collapse.
JACK
Then we end it here.
He checks his rifle. Shoulders it. Nods.
They move deeper.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Dangerous Decisions in the Dark
INT. MINE TUNNEL - LATER
Clare’s beam catches a half-buried wooden crate, rotted and
webbed with time.
She scrapes off grime. Faded letters:
DANGER – EXPLOSIVES.
Jack kneels beside her.
CLARE
If we can bring the ceiling down, we might sever the hive.
JACK
That old dynamite? Might take us
with it.
CLARE
Safe’s not the goal. The boom is.
She cracks the crate open. Wax-streaked dynamite
inside—bloated, sweating nitro.
JACK
She’s unstable. But breathing.
They take a few sticks each -- careful, methodical.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
The Heart of the Mountain
INT. MINE CHAMBER - NIGHT
The tunnel widens into a vast subterranean hall.
They stop. Frozen.
Dozens of elk lie sprawled in unnatural stillness -- eyes
milky, bodies bloated.
Ribcages collapse outward. Skin webbed with black tendrils.
Sany clutches her chest, reeling.
The tunnel widens into a massive chamber --
Walls streaked with black residue glimmer faintly gold under
the lantern light.
Clare stops dead --
Dozens of ELK CARCASSES sprawl across the floor --
Frozen mid-motion, as if they’d collapsed in agony at once.
Their eyes are milky white.
Their flesh is bloated -- streaked with strange ridges
beneath the hide.
Sandy clutches her chest.
Jack kneels beside one elk -- its ribcage caved outward --
bone splintering out like spears.
The flesh around the wound -- black and webbed -- pulses
faintly beneath the skin.
Walter’s lantern flame elongates -- bending toward the center
of the chamber.
Clare follows the light to reveal --
A MASSSIVE MOUND of fused carcasses -- bear, elk, deer --
melded into a breathing mound the size of a small house.
Walter stares, paralyzed by awe and horror.
For a flicker of a moment -- something crosses his eyes --
Not fear.
Recognition.
His breath catches -- shallow, instinctive.
WALTER
(under his breath)
...Jesus Christ.
He takes another step toward the mound, as if drawn.
The MOUND's surface ripples, wet and glistening.
Beneath the translucent tissue --
Shapes move -- something alive inside.
Clare steps closer, transfixed.
CLARE
(to herself)
The heart of the mountain.
(beat)
One mind, a thousand nodes.
She leans in --
POP.
A tendril breaches the surface -- slick, root-like. More
follow, writhing.
Spores drift into the air -- golden, slow, beautiful.
One lands on Clare's glove.
She inhales. Eyes go wide.
Her pupils dilate --
The world tilts --
Sound distorts...
WHISPERS flood in -- long, deep, distorted.
A hum pulses through her veins, like blood vibrating.
Through the haze --
Her father stands across the chamber. Calm. Smiling faintly.
CLARE’S DAD (V.O.)
The tree remembers what the axe
forgets.
She blinks --
He’s gone.
Jack’s shouts, distant -- muffled --
He pulls Clare back.
JACK
Get away from there!
Clare coughs, choking -- black residue on her lips.
Her flashlight beam catches movement --
Tendrils retract, sliding back into the earth like serpents.
The MOUND shudders, as if retreating.
CLARE
It's... reacting to us.
Walter watches Clare quietly. Too quietly.
WALTER
Not "us."
(beat)
Her.
A distant chittering echoes from somewhere deeper in the
tunnels. Not quite animal. Not quite anything.
The group jolts.
Jack moves immediately.
JACK
Everyone out. We regroup at the
incline shaft.
Clare pulls back from the hive reluctantly, as if leaving a
heat source she’s begun to rely on.
Walter lingers a moment longer than the rest—head tilted,
listening.
He whispers something under his breath—too soft to catch.
Clare turns, watching him.
He notices.
Mask returns instantly.
He forces a thin smile -- unconvincing.
Jack herds the group down the narrow mining corridor.
Walter hangs behind the others.
Clare slows, waiting for him to catch up.
CLARE
(low, sharp)
You knew what that thing was the
moment you saw it.
Walter meets her eyes with a practiced calm -- no denial, but
no admission.
WALTER
It recognized you.
He steps past Clare, disappearing around a bend.
But he doesn’t follow the others.
Instead, he slips down a side tunnel -- silent, confident.
Jack calls from ahead:
JACK (O.S.)
Clare! Come on!
She turns toward Jack’s voice -- but glances once more at the
side tunnel that Walter took.
She shivers.
CLARE
Yeah...
(beat)
Right behind you.
She moves to join the group. Her pupils dilate, swallowing
what little light remains.
A faint glow -- black-gold, vascular -- ripples beneath the
surface of her neck, then flickers out.
Genres:
["Horror","Sci-Fi","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Descent into Darkness
INT. MINE TUNNEL - NIGHT
The group rounds a bend. The tunnel forks.
LEFT: A sharp descent into black.
RIGHT: A narrow ascent, wind whispering faintly through.
JACK
Which way?
He turns around --
Just Clare and Sandy remain. Both breathing hard and pale.
Walter is gone.
CLARE
He peeled off after the hive.
Her voice fades. Her pupils dilate slightly -- too wide.
She turns her face toward the stone.
She places her hand on the wall.
CLOSE ON: Her fingers twitch slightly -- feeling a pulse.
Not hers. Not human.
A faint HUM trembles in the stone.
JACK
Clare?
The wall whispers. Something ancient. Curious.
Clare closes her eyes.
FLASH-CUT
-- A faint pulse of golden light flowing like a bloodstream --
curling up the right-hand tunnel.
Clare opens her eyes -- pupils wide, glowing faintly.
She gasps, pulling back -- staggering.
JACK (CONT'D)
Clare! You okay?
CLARE (SNAPPING OUT OF IT)
I -- I’m fine.
She shakes it off, eyes clearer now, jaw clenched.
Then points:
CLARE (CONT'D)
Right.
Jack stares at her.
JACK
What did you see?
CLARE
Something I don't understand.
Jack watches her -- uncertain. Then lifts his rifle. Nods.
JACK
Right it is.
They push forward.
Clare lingers -- places one hand on the tunnel wall.
The pulse in the stone meets her palm -- soft... like a
greeting.
She breathes in.
Her breath fogs slightly with gold.
The group goes deeper.
The tunnel expands -- walls push outward, as if inhaling.
Then --
A violent exhale.
CRACK!
A JAGGED, BONE-LIKE SPEAR EXPLODES through the tunnel wall
with a nauseating crack --
IMPALING Sandy through her lower abdomen, lifting her clean
off the ground.
Blood sheets down her legs.
Her eyes widen in shock, then fear -- then pain.
JACK (CONT'D)
Sandy!
Jack whirls, rifle snapping up.
BOOM! BOOM!
Muzzle flashes strobe the tunnel -- violent pulses of orange.
Bullets spark harmlessly against the living stone.
The bone spear doesn’t budge.
Sandy convulses, hanging there.
Clare lunges to her -- catching her hand.
CLARE
No -- Sandy, look at me. Look at
me.
Sandy’s gaze flicks to hers -- wet, terrified, searching
Clare’s face like she might find hope there.
Blood trickles from her lips, staining her teeth red.
SANDY
(bare whisper)
Clare... please...
CLARE
I’ve got you. I’ve got you, I’ve
got you --
The bone inside Sandy twitches, twisting.
Sandy’s whole body jerks, a strangled cry escaping her.
The tunnel walls RIPPLE, stone softening into muscle -- the
mountain coming alive around them.
The bone rears back and YANKS.
Sandy jerks forward -- half her torso already swallowed by
the mountain’s flexing maw.
Her free hand reaches out -- trembling, clawing at the air.
CLARE (CONT'D)
No -- NO!
She grabs Sandy’s arm with both hands, bracing her boots in
the dirt.
SANDY
(through panic)
Don’t let go -- Please -- don’t --
Clare pulls with everything she has -- shoulders shaking,
teeth gritted.
The wall tightens -- a muscular contraction.
Sandy’s arm stretches, tendons straining, as if the mountain
is pulling her soul out through her fingertips.
JACK
Clare -- let her go! You’ll get
pulled in!
Clare doesn’t hear him.
CLARE
Sandy -- SANDY --
And then --
A final, brutal jerk.
Sandy is wrenched from Clare’s grasp -- disappearing into the
living stone, sucked in with a wet, organic gulp.
The wall seals itself instantly -- smoothing over until there
is no trace she was ever there.
No blood.
No bone.
Just silence.
Then -- slowly -- a single object pushes through a hairline
crack in the rock.
Sandy’s scarf.
Blood-soaked. Torn.
Still warm.
It flutters down like dying embers and lands at Clare’s boot.
Clare stares, hollow.
Her hand trembles as she reaches down and lifts it, folding
it into her palm like something sacred.
Her jaw quivers.
Her eyes shine -- filling, breaking, overflowing.
A distant ROAR vibrates the tunnel — wrong, huge, hungry.
Clare flinches.
Jack listens. His eyes narrow.
JACK
Thirty yards behind us. Closing in
quickly.
Clare’s hand trembles toward her inhaler -- then stops,
twitching, infected instinct overriding habit.
A LOW SCRAPING echoes behind them.
Clare’s flashlight flickers.
Jack’s hand tightens on the rifle.
He freezes -- the same freeze he described in the diner. The
cavern seems to constrict around him.
FLASH CUTS:
-- Flaming Humvee wreckage.
-- Thick smoke swallowing his squad.
-- Jack frozen.
BACK TO SCENE.
A huge SHADOW moves at the end of the corridor, the scrape
becoming a rhythmic drag --
Clare reaches for him.
CLARE
Jack -- stay with me.
But the tunnel sound shifts -- a wet, predatory breathing —
and it lands like a hammer on Jack’s nervous system.
He shuts down. Eyes blank. Shoulders rigid.
Clare sees it --
She steps closer, trembling but aware.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Jack...
(beat)
Breathe.
The shadow grows. Two YELLOW EYES flicker.
Jack’s breath shortens. His fingers slip from the rifle grip.
A monstrous MOUNTAIN LION mutates from the darkness -- jaws
lined with hooked bone growths.
Its chest pulses like a furnace -- crouches.
Jack stiffens -- the freeze locking in fully.
The lion SNARLS -- the sound shakes dust loose from overhead
beams.
Jack steadies himself.
The lion charges -- a blur of claws and muscle and hive-born
fury.
Jack’s pupils DILATE -- a soldier’s instinct trying to
surface through years of suffocating trauma.
Time slows.
Jack’s gaze hardens. Something SNAPS inside him — not panic,
not fear, but clarity.
He inhales -- deep, controlled -- exactly seven beats, the
way he once taught Clare.
He steps forward -- placing himself between Clare and the
beast.
Clare’s eyes widen, stunned.
Jack plants his feet -- perfect shooter’s stance.
The beast LEAPS -- all jaws and claws and momentum.
Jack doesn’t flinch.
He doesn’t freeze.
He meets it.
He fires -- BOOM!
A direct hit to the lion’s jaw joint -- bone explodes in a
black mist.
The beast veers sideways, crashing into the wall — stone
buckles. Its head snaps around, stunned.
Jack racks the bolt with a controlled, deadly precision.
His breathing stays steady -- a soldier fully present.
The lion gathers itself, claws scoring deep grooves in the
stone.
Jack lowers his stance -- eyes locked -- pure instinct.
The lion lunges --
Jack fires again --
BOOM!
A round detonates into its exposed chest cavity -- fungal
tissue sprays the tunnel.
The beast collapses -- limbs twitching -- its roar fading to
a wet rattle.
Jack stands there, shoulders heaving, rifle smoking, the
tunnel still trembling around them.
Clare stares at him -- awe breaking through the haze of
infection.
Jack finally exhales -- full, controlled -- letting the
weight leave his body.
JACK
(shaky smile)
Counted to seven.
Clare steps toward him -- reaches out -- steadies herself
with his arm.
Then --
A distant ROAR -- deeper, older -- the Alpha calling from the
heart of the mountain.
The walls tremble. Dust rains down.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Descent into Darkness
INT. MINE SHAFT COVE - NIGHT
Jack and Clare wedge themselves into a narrow stone recess --
A dead-end crevice, half-collapsed and barely wide enough to
breathe.
Clare sits hunched, her back to the wall, shivering.
She wipes her mouth -- and sees it --
A smear of black-gold mucus glistens on her sleeve.
She stares at it -- breathing tight, jaw clenched.
Her pupils shrink, then dilate -- unnaturally wide.
The irises shimmer with faint amber threads.
Jack kneels beside her, reloading his rifle with hands that
aren’t steady anymore.
Jack looks at her -- fear in his eyes, not of her, but for
her.
JACK
What's happening to you, Clare?
CLARE
Something in me is waking up. And I
don't know whose choice that is.
JACK
You're infected.
CLARE
How is that possible if there's no
animal spillover from the virus?
Jack closes his eyes -- doesn’t flinch -- doesn’t doubt.
Clare lets it sink in.
JACK
Your father's DNA was the binding
agent for the virus. The host DNA
isn't immune.
CLARE
He tried reshaping evolution with a
scalpel. The mountain didn't
forget.
Her jaw tightens. Eyes glassy.
JACK
Maybe it's not too late. If the
hive needs air to breathe -- we can
sever the connection.
Jack takes off his backpack, unzips it to reveal two sticks
of dynamite.
Clare grips the stone behind her --
The wall pulses -- subtly -- as if it’s breathing beneath her
skin.
CLARE
Use the dynamite to create an
avalanche and bury it deep enough
to break the signal.
Jack nods -- removes his cross necklace.
He holds it for a moment, then presses it into Clare's palm.
JACK
In case you forget which parts of
you are still human.
Their fingers linger -- close enough to feel each other’s
heat in the cold.
CLARE
Let's end this.
A distant GROWL echoes from the tunnel --
They freeze.
Jack tightens his grip on the rifle -- knuckles pale.
A second GROWL. Closer. Throaty.
Something massive shifts in the dark beyond their cove.
Two YELLOW EYES ignite in the dark --
They rush from the cove -- swallowed by blackness, footsteps
pounding like a heartbeat.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Descent into Darkness
INT. ESCAPE HATCH - NIGHT
The tunnel trembles with the distant roar of lions, echoing
like thunder through bone.
Jack and Clare reach the base of a rusted ladder.
It climbs upward -- a relic bolted into the stone.
JACK
Climb. Go!
Clare hesitates -- then climbs.
Her slick, trembling hands grip each rung.
Jack follows.
Every step creaks.
The air tastes of rust and blood.
The roars grow closer.
Something moves below --
Fast. Heavy. Alive.
A low growl rolls up the tunnel, vibrating through the metal
ladder.
Clare looks down --
Yellow eyes bloom in the dark. Dozens. Watching. Advancing.
JACK (CONT'D)
Don’t look down. Just go!
Clare climbs harder, boots scraping steel.
Each rung vibrates with a faint hum.
Not mechanical -- biological.
Her pulse syncs with it.
Or the mine’s pulse syncs with hers.
She can’t tell anymore.
HALFWAY UP --
She pauses, clutching the ladder, chest heaving.
Her infected POV reveals something horrifying and beautiful:
From this height, she can see the living veins of the
mountain -- glowing strands running through the tunnel walls,
converging deeper in the earth.
A massive NETWORK.
A brain.
A consciousness.
Her consciousness.
CLARE
(whispers, terrified)
Jack... I can hear the whole
mountain.
Jack’s flashlight swings wildly -- the beam slicing over
shapes in the dark --
Sinew. Claws. Teeth flashing wet.
A lion leaps --
It hits Jack mid-ladder -- raking its claws deep across the
back of his legs.
Blood spatters the rungs.
JACK
Faster, Clare!
Clare reaches the hatch, tries to pry it open --
It won't budge.
It's frozen -- sealed by ice.
CLARE
Come on!
Clare pounds the hatch with every muscle in her body.
Jack looks down --
The lion below him crouches again -- shoulders twitching,
ready to leap.
Another lion prowls behind it --
Tail flicking, jaws gnashing in anticipation.
He releases one hand and pulls a knife from his belt.
The first lion lunges --
Jack drives the knife into its skull as it collides with him
--
The impact slams him against the ladder.
Bone cracks.
The lion’s momentum tears the blade free, tearing Jack with
it.
He loses his grip --
SLAMS backward, spine-first --
Falling into the nest below --
CLARE (CONT'D)
Jack!
The tunnel erupts in a cyclone of snarls --
A dozen YELLOW EYES blink open at once.
The swarm collapses in on him, a blur of fur and claws.
Clare can only watch -- helpless -- through a veil of dust
and blood spray.
Claws rake across Jack’s ribs.
Teeth sink into tendons.
His boots kick, slipping in crimson.
He fights, snarling back at them like one of their own --
then rips a stick of dynamite from his backpack.
Fumbling. Bleeding. Teeth at his throat.
He pulls a lighter from his pocket -- lights the fuse --
HISS.
JACK
"And fear not them which kill the
body -- they are not able to kill
the soul."
His arm flails upward, the dynamite in one hand, the other
bloodied, trembling.
JACK (CONT'D)
(rasping)
Bury it, Clare.
SNAP.
His arm breaks sideways --
Sucked down into the maelstrom of flesh.
BOOM!
The blast hits like a freight train --
The tunnel walls shudder -- the hatch quakes.
A roar of flame and ruptured meat swells beneath her.
Clare slams her shoulder against the hatch harder -- once --
twice --
CRACK!
The hatch splits open -- a shaft of moonlight cuts through
the dark.
Sharp. Silver. Cold.
She gasps, crawls upward.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
Embracing the Storm
EXT. WILDERNESS – NIGHT
A whiteout blizzard rages.
Snow rips sideways like knives, howling with feral intent.
The night shrieks.
CLARE bursts from the hatch —
Slams it shut behind her with a final, echoing CLANG.
She stumbles forward —
Then collapses into the snow, like a puppet whose strings
have been cut.
Her hands dig into the frozen crust.
Breath heaves from her lungs in labored gasps — each exhale
laced with a faint, golden shimmer, barely visible against
the storm.
She tries to scream — but only a broken sob escapes.
The wind roars.
Then — a deeper sound beneath it.
A low, rhythmic thrum, pulsing up through the ice and stone.
Like something buried. Alive.
The mountain shudders beneath her — subtle, seismic.
CLARE
Jack...
She curls forward — pressing her forehead to the snow.
Sobs wrack her body.
Raw. Animal. Helpless.
For a long moment, she stays like that — bent, broken, barely
breathing.
Then she turns her face, cheek pressed to the ice, and stares
back.
The hatch.
Closed. Final.
Snow already crusts the edges.
She pushes herself up to her elbows — hands trembling, soaked
in blood and dirt and something darker.
She lifts them.
Tiny black veins spiderweb beneath the skin.
Threading like roots.
Foreign. Wrong.
But hers now.
Her fingers twitch. Not all at once.
She stares, hollow-eyed.
Then slowly, she reaches beneath her collar and pulls out
Jack’s cross necklace, now resting against her chest.
She clutches it — hard.
Knuckles white.
Her thumb strokes the edge, just like he used to.
A beat.
JACK (V.O.)
When I can’t see the path...
I count to seven.
She closes her eyes.
A long breath.
CLARE
One...
The storm wails around her.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Two... Three...
Her voice cracks.
She squeezes the necklace tighter. The metal bites into her
skin.
CLARE (CONT'D)
Four. Five. Six...
A whisper, almost lost --
CLARE (CONT'D)
Seven.
She forces herself to her feet.
Shaking.
Exhausted.
Not whole.
But upright.
She doesn’t wipe the tears. Doesn’t look back.
Clare turns into the storm.
The blizzard howls --
She walks anyway.
Each breath now trailing brighter, golden vapor lingering in
the air behind her like spectral footprints.
Then -- through the white...
THE RADIO TOWER.
Skeletal.
Half-buried in frost.
Cables thrashing like snakes in the wind.
Clare limps forward.
The wind muffles.
The cold fades.
Like the mountain is watching. Waiting.
She slows.
Her breath comes steady now.
A strange calm settles.
She looks up at the tower -- a dying totem of human signal --
and then down at her hand.
The veins glow faintly.
But they've stopped spreading.
Clare lets her hand fall.
She lifts her face into the storm -- lets the snow sting her
skin.
Eyes closed.
Silence.
Weightless.
White.
She breathes in.
Then takes the next step.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Survival"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
Nightmare on the Ridge
EXT. MOUNTAIN RIDGE - NIGHT (DREAM SEQUENCE)
Clare opens her eyes.
She’s ten years old, bundled in a red winter coat, her small
hand clasped in her father’s.
They stand on a high, snow-covered ridge.
Frozen peaks glow under a violet aurora.
Her father -- younger, in his army parka -- looks down at
her, warm and alive, his breath fogging in the twilight.
RAY
(soft, proud)
This is what we made. Let me show
you.
He starts walking ahead, leading her up through the snow.
Each step she takes, the snow deepens.
Her small boots sink until she can barely move.
RAY (CONT'D)
Come on, kiddo. Don’t fall behind.
She tugs at his hand -- but his grip feels different --
Harder.
Clawed.
Clare looks down --
The hand she holds isn’t human --
It’s rough, veined, covered in patches of fur and cracked
hide.
She looks up --
Her father’s parka hood whips back, his face --
Half-human, half-lion -- the merge imperfect, horrifying.
Golden eyes burn beneath the hood, molten and wild, pupils
quivering like candle flames in a draft.
His lips pull wide --
Teeth spill past the edges of his mouth -- glistening like
wet glass in moonlight.
Clare stumbles backward --
The ridge beneath her feet moves.
The mountain breathes -- pulses.
The horizon bends.
Ray’s shape towers now, spine arched, limbs distorting --
The mountain splits open --
A ROAR shakes the sky.
END DREAM SEQUENCE
Genres:
["Horror","Fantasy","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
Climbing the Abyss
EXT. RADIO TOWER - NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
Clare jerks awake, gasping, clinging to the bottom rung of
the tower ladder.
The tower looms above, skeletal and endless.
She blinks, trying to shake the dream --
But her fingers tremble unnaturally, twitching with delayed
spasms.
Black veins pulse faintly beneath her skin.
She looks at her hand --
The faintest trace of dark fur clings to her palm before the
snow melts it away.
Clare pushes herself up, body shaking.
Her face hardens -- half fear, half resolve.
She climbs.
The mountain hums beneath her -- a deep, living vibration.
Snow drifts swirl around her like ghosts.
Her breath glows faint gold in the dark.
She climbs faster, the infection pulsing through her veins
like molten light.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Fantasy"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
Echoes of Despair
INT. RADIO ROOM - NIGHT
The air is thin. Cold. Heavy with rust and mold.
Clare squeezes into the narrow space --
A single metal chair sits in front of a battered radio unit.
She brushes snow and grime from the control panel, revealing
faded stenciling --
“U.S. ARMY - EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM”
The radio -- a clunky relic from another era -- has all
knobs, no screens.
A cracked frequency dial glows faintly orange.
She hesitates. Takes a breath. Flips the toggle.
The unit hums to life -- low, guttural -- like the mountain
itself is listening.
Clare leans forward into the mic.
CLARE
This is CPW Officer Clare Lockwood
requesting emergency evac from the
Black Ridge radio tower. I repeat --
emergency evac.
A hiss of static fills the air.
Then --
A cold, mechanical voice crackles through, distorted by
distance.
MILITARY OPERATOR (V.O.)
Hold position, Officer Lockwood.
Rescue team is en route.
The sound of her name through the static feels alien --
distant, wrong.
The radio clicks dead.
Clare’s trembling hand lowers the mic.
The light on the console flickers red -- then goes black.
Silence.
The static breathes -- in, out -- like lungs.
A voice bleeds through --
CLARE’S DAD (V.O.)
It’s alive, Clare. Everything up
here is.
The words echo inside her skull.
They swirl in the static -- overlapping, whispering.
Children laughing. A wolf’s growl. Her father’s cough.
She grabs the radio, trembling with rage and fear -- hurls it
against the wall with a sharp, guttural cry --
It explodes on impact -- shattering into shards.
Instant silence.
The voices -- gone.
Clare stares at what's left of the radio.
Her breath stutters.
Tears come -- quiet, as if she's afraid the mountain might
hear.
A raw sob tears out before she can stop it.
She sinks to her knees. Shoulders shaking.
She bites her lip to keep from screaming.
Then --
Stillness.
She stands up.
Slow inhale... Slow exhale...
Her spine straightens -- eyes sharpen.
Not broken. Hardened.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Resonance in the Blizzard
EXT. MOUNTAIN CLEARING - NIGHT
Through the blizzard, FIGURES EMERGE --
HAZMAT SOLDIERS, faceless behind matte-black helmets, rifles
raised.
Their movements are unnervingly precise --
No shouts. No hand signals.
Their headlamps sweep long, inquisitive arcs over the
clearing.
Behind them, walking slower... more deliberate...
WALTER.
He wears the same black hazmat suit, but his helmet hangs at
his side.
Purposeful.
Measured.
In command.
INT. RADIO ROOM
Clare crouches behind the window, breathing hard.
Her veins glow beneath the skin -- pulsing, throbbing.
Walter pauses.
His eyes lift.
He looks directly at Clare.
Something inside Clare LURCHES -- a magnetic drag as her
infection resonates with his memories, his fear, his past.
Clare’s pupils dilate to gold.
She gasps as the world around her FALLS AWAY --
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
Containment Breach: Descent into Darkness
INT. ARSENAL - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
Black smoke CHOKES the air. Sirens wail an unending, metallic
scream.
Emergency lights pulse bloody red down narrow concrete
corridors.
Three YOUNG ARMY SOLDIERS move through the fog -- WALTER
(20s) at point, clutching a service rifle.
His face is smooth, his eyes youthful yet terrified.
Two soldiers flank him -- CARTER and JONES -- masks on,
coughing through filters.
A crackling radio spits static.
RADIO (V.O.)
Containment breach... sector four
compromised... all personnel
evacuate --
The message dies in static.
They press on, boots splashing through pools of dark liquid.
ALPHA’S ROAR thunders from deep within the facility -- not
fully lion, not fully anything human, a sound that punches
into the gut.
Carter freezes.
CARTER
Jesus -- what is that?
WALTER (YOUNG)
(shaking)
Just keep moving.
He doesn’t believe it. None of them do.
The smoke thickens. Shapes flicker in the haze.
JONES IS YANKED INTO THE DARK, screaming.
Just gone.
WALTER (YOUNG) (CONT'D)
Jones! JONES!
Carter fires wildly into the black.
CARTER
I can’t see him -- Walter, I can’t
--
A WHIP-LIKE shadow lashes across the frame.
Carter’s scream is cut short as something enormous slams him
backward into the smoke.
Walter stands alone.
The corridor stretches before him like the throat of some
dying beast.
He raises his rifle -- hands shaking -- moves deeper.
Another ROAR shakes dust from the ceiling.
Walter rounds a corner --
And stops dead.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
Descent into Chaos
INT. ALPHA LAB - CONTINUOUS
Sparks fall from broken conduits.
Glass tanks lie shattered.
Biohazard seals burn away like paper.
In the center of the room lies RAY -- lab coat torn, blood
pooling beneath him.
His side is ripped open by a massive bite.
Behind him --
A cracked containment chamber.
Inside it --
A shifting, sinewed mass of organs, bone, and shadow --
pulsing with a golden glow.
Walter shifts his gaze back to Clare’s father.
He’s breathing -- barely.
Walter steps forward, stunned.
WALTER
Doctor Lockwood, what the hell
happened?
Ray forces his eyes open.
Recognition flickers -- pain, sorrow, warning.
He tries to speak. Blood trickles from the corner of his
mouth.
Walter kneels beside him, desperate.
Ray turns -- but something’s off. His movements aren’t quite
his anymore.
His veins pulse dark along his neck.
Tiny threads of mycelium flicker beneath the skin, shifting
like worms under ice.
Another ROAR -- closer.
Ray grabs Walter’s arm with surprising strength.
His eyes burn with fierce clarity. His pupils dilate,
tracking something we can't see.
RAY
(whispers)
It's not a voice. It's a memory.
Walter lifts his rifle -- trembling.
Something massive moves in the smoke behind them.
RAY (CONT'D)
(faint whisper)
Help me...
Walter staggers to his feet, backing away.
A giant silhouette emerges --
THE ALPHA, its first form, hide slick with blood and
chemicals, eyes glowing with embryonic gold.
It steps toward Ray.
He exerts his last strength to push Walter toward the exit.
Then --
The Alpha pounces on him as Walter sprints away.
He races through the collapsing hallway, boots skidding on
slick concrete.
Ahead -- the steel vault EXIT DOOR.
He throws himself through, slams the control lever --
WHAM!
The door SEALS shut inches before the Alpha’s claws ram
against it from the other side.
The entire chamber SHUDDERS with the Alpha’s fury.
Walter collapses against the door, sobbing, trembling.
The sirens die.
The lights fade.
Smoke swallows everything.
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Horror","Sci-Fi","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
Confrontation in the Blizzard
INT. RADIO ROOM - NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
Clare snaps back into her body with a violent gasp.
Her hands clutch the snowy windowsill. Her veins glow
brighter, racing under her skin like molten lightning.
Outside, Walter stands perfectly still.
Like he felt her inside his head.
For the briefest moment, Walter’s expression changes -- pain,
guilt, relief, something nameless.
He knows she saw it.
CLARE
(whispers)
You left him.
Their eyes lock through the blizzard.
Then she sees it:
THE MINE HATCH at the edge of the clearing --
OPEN, steam roiling from the darkness like a living breath.
Walter stops at its edge.
He looks down into it with grim recognition -- as if
returning to a place he hoped he’d never see again.
The troopers cluster around him.
Something trembles under the snow around them.
One trooper, SOLDIER 1, lifts his head -- sees Clare watching
from the radio room window.
He taps his rifle twice.
Walter turns toward the tower -- meets Clare’s eyes across
the blizzard.
No surprise.
No relief.
Just a quiet, sorrowful inevitability.
He lifts two fingers -- a silent command.
WALTER
No head shots. We want her alive.
BANG!
The window EXPLODES inward.
Clare dives to the floor as gunfire RIPS through the cabin.
Wood splinters. Metal shrieks. Ice blasts across her face.
She scrambles behind the desk, glass slicing her palms.
Her breathing spikes -- the infected veins in her neck flare
brighter, pulsing with adrenaline.
Then --
Silence.
The gunfire stops abruptly.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
Nightmare in the Snow
EXT. MOUNTAIN CLEARING - NIGHT
Snow whips in horizontal sheets, devouring all light and
sound.
The hazmat soldiers trudge forward through the white void --
Each step is tentative, sinking deeper into the snow than the
last.
A low vibration beneath the ground grows stronger --
A tremor, rhythmic, like a heartbeat buried miles below.
SOLDIER 1
You feel that?
SOLDIER 2
Must be --
CRACK.
The word dies in his throat.
The earth shifts beneath them -- a shuddering groan like the
mountain exhaling.
They freeze.
BOOM!
The ground ERUPTS in a geyser of snow --
TWO MASSIVE LIONS EXPLODE UPWARD.
The beast’s eyes flare gold -- molten and ancient.
A lion lunges at SOLDIER 1 --
The lion's jaws snap his helmet in half.
Bone splinters, flesh peels.
His body folds backward, spine arching until it breaks clean.
SOLDIER 2 opens fire -- muzzle flashes strobe through the
whiteout.
The second lion moves like vapor -- one moment solid, the
next a blur.
In a flash, the lion smashes into SOLDIER 2 -- claws cleaving
through his armor like wet paper.
His torso separates from his legs -- his upper body flung
into the storm --
Blood arcs in perfect ribbons before vanishing in the wind.
SOLDIER 3 fans out, panicked, beam flailing wildly across the
storm.
Walter watches from a safe distance.
Not scared.
Certain.
Genres:
["Horror","Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
40 -
Embrace of the Storm
INT. RADIO ROOM - NIGHT
Clare presses herself close to the cracked windowpane, her
breath trembling against the frost-webbed glass.
Outside, the screams and roars are muffled, swallowed by the
wind and distance.
Clare’s breath fogs the pane.
Her reflection stares back at her through the distorted
glass:
Pale.
Fevered.
Half human.
Half something trying to wake.
Her hand lifts -- trembling -- and touches the glass,
aligning her fingertips with her ghost-pale reflection.
The golden light beneath her skin pulses once, in sync with
the low THRUM of the mountain below.
A flicker of panic crosses her face.
Her veins flare brighter.
She forces her hand away, horrified.
She spins toward the far wall -- where the emergency ladder
chute drops down the tower's spine.
The hatch hangs half-open, rattling in the wind like
something trying to breathe.
Snow hisses across the metal lip, swirling down into the dark
below.
Clare steps toward it -- her legs unsteady, vision smearing
at the edges.
She plants a hand on the wall, steadying herself as the world
tilts.
Her breath trembles.
She wipes her mouth with her sleeve, smearing a ribbon of
gold-tinged phlegm that she refuses to look at.
She grips the ladder rails.
Then pauses.
Reaches into her pocket. Pulls out her inhaler -- the one
lifeline she’s carried since childhood.
She studies it...
Then -- she lets it fall.
THUD.
The sound is small, but final.
Clare’s whole body trembles -- not with fear, but with some
new, rising current beneath her skin.
Determination.
Mutation.
Becoming.
She looks to the broken window beside her.
Her reflection peers back -- fractured, distorted.
Not a woman. Not yet a monster. Something in between.
Clare inhales -- calm, steady, surrendering and resisting all
at once.
She steps into the hatch.
And descends into the storm below.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
41 -
Clare's Ascent: Echoes in the Storm
EXT. MOUNTAIN RIDGE - NIGHT
The snow churns sideways -- a white ocean swallowing sky and
ground alike.
Clare climbs through it --
Staggering, half-blind, Clare's breath catches in shallow
gasps.
Gold light pulses beneath her skin like bioluminescent roots
spreading through her bloodstream.
Her boot slips on the ice --
She drops to one knee.
She looks at the ridge ahead --
An impossible slope disappears into a white abyss.
The wind shifts.
Suddenly, shapes stir in the snow --
Faint, translucent figures emerge, climbing right beside her
--
Clare's father, his coat heavy with frost, and Jack, wearing
his army uniform, appear beside her, their faces blurred,
hollow-eyed, yet kind.
They climb with her -- silent, steady.
She digs her boots into the slope, pulling herself higher.
A low growl ripples through the blizzard -- distant but
growing closer.
She freezes, the wind slicing her face raw.
Clare grasps the cross necklace around her neck, holding back
tears.
Her breath comes in ragged bursts, each exhale trailing a
faint yellow mist.
Clare staggers upward -- slips again.
Her palm slaps the ice -- her infection flares.
Steam rises where she touches, the surface melting beneath
her hand.
She looks up --
For a moment -- the storm stills.
Snow falls gently, suspended in the air.
The mountain exhales, and everything breathes with her.
Her body and the mountain -- no longer separate.
Then the moment breaks --
A distant ROAR shatters the calm.
The mountain shakes beneath her boots.
Clare clenches her jaw, trudges forward.
Her eyes -- now bright, feral gold.
Behind her --
The ghosts of her father and Jack fade into the white abyss.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
42 -
Avalanche Trigger
EXT. RIDGE - LIP OF THE CORNICE - NIGHT
A narrow shelf.
Clare crawls, belly to ice, peering over --
An open bowl, heavy with loaded snow --
The perfect avalanche face.
She claws at a fissure, revealing --
A thin blue seam of hard ice buttressing the slope --
A weak plane.
She shoulders off her backpack, unzips it -- takes the
dynamite out with shaking hands.
She tucks three sticks of dynamite into a natural crack --
then snakes an old blasting cord into the crevice.
She digs for her lighter -- then lights the fuse of the
blasting cord.
Sulfur sparks --
HISS.
Clare dives behind a toothed outcrop and clamps her jaw --
clutching the cross on Jack's necklace.
Wind shrieks.
Then --
BOOM!
EXT. MOUNTAINSIDE - NIGHT
A cathedral wall of snow peels from the mountain with a slow,
apocalyptic grace.
The avalanche drops like a frozen sea rearing -- accelerating
--
A white tide engulfs the bowl in a cacophony of crashing rock
and ice.
Then --
Silence.
A new landscape.
Smoothed. Flattened. Erased.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
43 -
Embrace of the Alpha
EXT. RIDGE - NIGHT
Clare staggers up, coughing, half-smiling.
Behind her —
CRUNCH. BOOTS in snow.
A voice, calm. Too calm.
WALTER (O.S.)
There’s no going back, Clare.
The second you breathed it in... it knew you. It chose you.
She spins.
WALTER stands 15 yards downhill.
His rifle slung loosely. His hazmat suit torn, crusted in
ice.
His breath plumes.
Still. Steady. Measured.
CLARE
Stay where you are.
He climbs -- slow, deliberate — never breaking eye contact.
He stops within ten feet. His gaze drops to her arms.
Clare’s veins glow like river-maps of fire.
WALTER
Synchronization’s accelerating.
CLARE
You left my father to die.
WALTER
He was compromised. I was ordered
to contain the breach.
CLARE
What's happening to me?
He unslings the rifle, places it gently in the snow.
Raises his hands -- empty.
WALTER
Your father misunderstood what he
discovered. He thought he’d made a
virus.
(beat)
He’d witnessed an awakening. You
call this infection? No. This is
inheritance.
Her eyes flicker. Gold pulses behind the pupil.
A low hum rises from the rock -- not sound, but sensation.
She clutches her head as images invade:
-- The Hive breathing.
-- The Alpha’s silhouette in whiteout snow.
-- Her father. Gloved hand pressed to glass. Eyes hollow.
Walter taps his chest.
WALTER (CONT'D)
You think that voice in your head
is you? That’s the first lie it
tells.
Clare’s hands tremble. Her breath quickens.
CLARE
It doesn’t speak for me.
Walter chuckles -- low and tired.
WALTER
You think you’re resisting it?
The mountain already decided.
She steps closer. The wind keens. Her teeth have subtly
lengthened.
The hum in the mountain turns into a low heartbeat, slow and
steady -- but getting louder.
Clare falters. Drops to one knee.
Her back arches. Her jacket tightens over something moving
beneath.
SNAP. Bone shifts. Muscle ripples.
Golden veins light up like fault lines. Her skin quivers.
WALTER (CONT'D)
(whispers)
You feel it don't you? Beneath your
ribs. In your breath. The rhythm in
the stone.
He kneels beside her. Breathless.
WALTER (CONT'D)
They want to capture you and put
you in a cage. Turn you into a
weapon. I'm here to set you free.
She SHRUGS him off violently -- flings him into a stone ridge
with a thud.
He grunts. Rolls onto his side. Laughs, coughing blood.
She rises -- something animal in her stance now.
Predator.
Eyes like golden floodlights.
Walter leans against the rock, watching her. Not afraid.
Ready.
She doesn’t blink -- falls to all fours, panting.
Spine stretching. Joints cracking. Limbs flexing. Skin
shivering.
WALTER (WHISPERS) (CONT'D)
I didn't come to kill you. I came
to witness you.
The wind howls across the jagged ridge, but another sound
rises beneath it --
A low, subterranean ROAR.
Deep. Ancient. Vibrating through the rock.
Walter stands at the edge, unmoving.
He doesn’t turn.
He knows.
Behind him --
THE ALPHA steps onto the ridge.
Fur tangled with bone.
Veins of molten gold webbing its hide, pulsing with a sickly
rhythm.
Walter slowly turns, his breath misting the air.
He gazes up, eyes wide.
WALTER (CONT'D)
She’s the bridge. The bone. The
breath.
(bows head)
This is my offering.
He opens his arms. Exposed. Accepting.
The Alpha pauses. Its massive skull cants slightly --
curious.
Steam coils from its maw.
Suddenly, it lunges --
CHOMP.
Its jaws engulf Walter’s head in one swift, unnatural motion
--
Walter’s body jerks violently -- his spine arcing like a
hooked fish.
His eyes flick to Clare -- and in them:
Recognition.
Terror.
Then --
CRACK. SQUELCH.
His skull ruptures like fruit. Bone fragments snap.
His body slumps. Headless.
Silence.
Clare steps forward.
The Alpha lowers its massive head.
They regard each other across a few feet of snow -- predator
and predator.
The Alpha’s lips curl back, revealing rows of teeth. Its
hackles rise.
Clare meets its gaze without flinching.
The glowing veins in her neck and face sync perfectly with
the glow in the Alpha’s chest -- pulsing in the same rhythm.
Slowly, Clare rises from all fours to a crouched, almost
feral stand.
Not fully human. Not fully beast.
Gold light spills from her eyes.
The Alpha lowers its head.
A submissive gesture.
Slow. Deliberate.
It sinks down until its muzzle is nearly in the snow, massive
shoulders bowing.
Her eyes meet the Alpha's.
A dozen ancient gazes bore into her.
Measuring.
Recognizing.
She sways.
A warm pulse climbs up her spine --
Not fear. Not pain.
Symbiosis.
Clare closes her eyes -- letting the connection open.
Her mind blooms.
She doesn’t fight the infection. She focuses it.
Her breath clouds the air between them.
She steps forward -- tentative -- until they are almost
touching.
She lifts a trembling hand and lays it gingerly on the
Alpha’s scarred brow, between the horns.
For a moment, her human fingers look absurdly small.
The moment stretches.
Then --
Her hand grips fur, knuckles tightening.
Her body trembles -- on the brink of full metamorphosis.
Her expression shifts -- fear giving way to something else --
FLASH CUTS FROM INSIDE HER BODY --
-- Cells fusing with fungal spores.
-- Neural pathways lighting up like forest roots.
-- Her brain expanding, rewiring.
BACK TO SCENE.
The mountain heartbeat becomes deafening -- then settles into
perfect sync with Clare’s.
Her hand leaves the Alpha and reaches into her jacket,
pulling out Jack’s cross necklace.
Her fingers close around it -- tight. Her jaw tightens.
She turns away from the Alpha -- and stares out into the
storm, down the slope.
FLASH IMAGES --
-- JACK, laughing over diner pie, wind in his face on the
trail.
-- SANDY, shivering in the mine tunnel, whispering “don’t let
go.”
-- RAY, kneeling beside her in the woods, blood on his
sleeve, voice gentle.
-- YOUNG CLARE, running barefoot toward the tree line,
satchel on her back, hope in her eyes.
BACK TO SCENE.
The cross dangles from her clenched fist.
Her body shakes -- a silent sob wrenched from somewhere deep
and animal.
Clare opens her hand.
She looks at the cross... then kisses it -- not in prayer,
but as a farewell.
Then -- the cross slips from her palm, falling off the ridge
--
We follow the cross as it spins away, swallowed by the void,
tumbling end over end into darkness.
Clare turns back to the Alpha.
The wind dies.
The snow stills.
The forest listens.
Clare exhales -- a long, slow breath -- releasing the last of
her humanity.
The golden light beneath her skin ignites -- bright and pure
-- then steadies into a quiet, pulsing glow.
Controlled.
Accepted.
Clare lifts her chin.
Eyes burning softly -- alive with a memory not her own.
She takes a step forward --
Slow. Sure. Regal.
A threshold crossed.
She fully surrenders herself -- mind and body.
Then --
She drops to all fours.
Fluid. Instinctive. Right.
Muscles ripple beneath her skin -- coiled potential.
Behind her --
The Alpha rises.
Massive. Silent.
It steps forward, then --
Falls into pace behind her.
A shadow.
A guardian.
They move as one --
Down the ridge, into the forest.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
44 -
The Transformation's Echo
EXT. MOUNTAIN FOREST - DAY
We track behind Clare, transformed -- sinew and shadow,
running on all fours through the ancient forest.
She moves like something born of speed and silence. A blur of
muscle, instinct, and purpose.
The world through her eyes is hyper-alive:
-- Every scent: a navigational map.
-- Every sound: a language.
Branches shred past. Snow bursts beneath her without slowing
her pace.
On a distant ridge, a herd of ELK lifts their heads in eerie
unison.
Their eyes glow with faint amber fire, and in the still air,
they pivot -- toward her.
Spores drift from their fur like glimmering gold pollen,
carried downwind by a rising breeze...
...toward the FOOTHILL CITY shimmering miles below --
unaware, quiet, vulnerable.
WHUP-- WHUP-- WHUP--
A deep, mechanical tremor slices through the wind.
MILITARY HELICOPTERS emerge over the western ridgeline,
searchlights scanning like hunting hawks.
One chopper dips low -- its beam catches the edge of the
spore cloud.
We follow a single spore -- delicate, golden -- as it spirals
through the cold air...
Rising on the thermals... drifting over the city skyline...
...and beyond, into the glow of an oncoming storm front.
Buried beneath the wind and rotor wash --
A ROAR.
Long. Unnatural.
Not human. Not animal.
Something in between.
Something evolved.
FADE OUT.