SCRIPT TITLE
Written by
Name of First Writer
Based on, If Any
Address
Phone Number
FADE IN:
BLACK.
A LOW, METALLIC HUM.
Ventilation. Constant. Relentless.
SUPER: ROCKY FLATS PLANT, COLORADO -- SEPTEMBER 11, 1957
INT. BUILDING 771 -- PLUTONIUM RECOVERY & FABRICATION — NIGHT
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead.
A LINE OF INTERCONNECTED GLOVE BOXES stretches down the room -
- plexiglas windows, rubber gloves hanging limp like shed
skin.
Inside one box:
PLUTONIUM SHAVINGS.
Dull. Silvery. Almost weightless.
A TECHNICIAN (30s), face hidden behind a respirator, works
carefully.
The shavings SHIFT.
A FLICKER.
No spark.
No warning.
Just -- IGNITION.
The plutonium BLOOMS into flame, white-hot and alive.
The technician freezes.
INSIDE THE GLOVE BOX
Fire races along the shavings -- LICKING rubber gloves,
MELTING plexiglas, SPREADING impossibly fast.
The gloves SHRIVEL.
The window WARPS.
The fire finds the seams.
INT. BUILDING 771 — CONTINUOUS
Alarms SHRIEK.
Technicians scatter.
A SUPERVISOR grabs a phone.
SUPERVISOR
Fire in seven-seven-one. Glove box
ignition.
The flames MOVE -- jumping box to box through the
interconnected system.
A living thing.
INT. PLENUM CHAMBER — SAME
A vast metal cavity downstream.
Rows of HEPA FILTERS -- dense, industrial, trusted.
Smoke SURGES in.
The first filter BLACKENS -- then COLLAPSES into flame.
Another ignites.
Then another.
A DOMINO EFFECT.
EXT. BUILDING 771 — NIGHT
Exhaust STACKS rise against the dark Colorado sky.
Smoke begins to POUR out.
Not thick.
Not dramatic.
Just enough.
Microscopic.
Invisible.
INT. CONTROL ROOM — NIGHT
Dials SPIKE.
A red light FLASHES.
ENGINEER
We’re losing the fans --
The ventilation HUM FALTERS.
Then STOPS.
CLOCK ON THE WALL:
10:40 PM
The building exhales one last time.
INT. BUILDING 771 — FIRE RESPONSE — NIGHT
FIREFIGHTERS rush in wearing primitive protective gear.
They unleash CARBON DIOXIDE EXTINGUISHERS.
White clouds flood the room.
The fire DOES NOT CARE.
It keeps burning.
A COMMANDER hesitates -- knows the rule.
Water can make it worse.
The fire grows.
COMMANDER
Get the hoses.
A beat.
They know what this means.
EXT. ROCKY FLATS — NIGHT
Water streams into the building.
Steam rises.
Smoke continues drifting outward -- carried by the wind.
Toward the lights of DENVER, faint on the horizon.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
A Routine Dawn at Rocky Flats
EXT. SUBURBAN DENVER — NIGHT
Quiet neighborhoods.
Backyards. Clotheslines. Open windows.
The same wind moves gently through trees.
Nothing looks wrong.
Nothing smells wrong.
CUT TO:
BLACK.
Silence.
Then --
A LOW, STEADY HUM.
Not chaotic.
Controlled.
SUPER: JUNE 6, 1989
EXT. ROCKY FLATS PLANT — DAWN
First light creeps over the Front Range.
A vast, immaculate NUCLEAR WEAPONS FACILITY emerges from the
dark -- low buildings, clean lines, wide security perimeters.
No smoke.
No urgency.
Just order.
An AMERICAN FLAG snaps crisply in the morning wind.
Another flag beneath it -- DEPARTMENT OF ENERGY.
EXT. SECURITY CHECKPOINT — CONTINUOUS
A guard checks IDs with practiced efficiency.
Badges are scanned.
Gates slide open.
A digital sign flashes:
“SECURITY LEVEL: NORMAL”
Cars roll through one by one.
INT. LOCKER ROOM — MORNING
Workers change in silence.
Street clothes off.
Uniforms on.
Coveralls zipped tight.
Boots laced.
Dosimeters clipped to belts.
Routine.
One WORKER pauses, adjusts his respirator, then continues.
No one speaks.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Illusion of Control
INT. HALLWAY — BUILDING 771 — MORNING
Bright. Sterile. Immaculate.
The same long corridors as 1957 -- but scrubbed of memory.
New paint.
New signage.
Nothing suggests fire.
A FLOOR BUFFER glides past, erasing footprints as fast as
they appear.
INT. GLOVE BOX ROOM — MORNING
Rows of INTERCONNECTED GLOVE BOXES.
Plexiglas windows pristine.
Rubber gloves neatly arranged.
Inside: metal components, tools, shavings.
Contained.
Controlled.
A TECHNICIAN works with quiet precision.
The dosimeter on his chest CLICKS ONCE.
He doesn’t notice.
INT. CONTROL ROOM — MORNING
Monitors glow softly.
Airflow charts.
Pressure readouts.
Radiation levels -- green across the board.
A SUPERVISOR sips coffee, relaxed.
Everything is within limits.
EXT. ROCKY FLATS — MORNING
The facility hums beneath the rising sun.
Beyond the fence:
Open land.
Rolling grass.
Distant neighborhoods just beginning to wake.
Sprinklers tick on in backyards miles away.
The wind moves gently across it all.
Unremarkable.
INT. ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICE — MORNING
A bulletin board displays safety slogans:
“PROCEDURE IS PROTECTION.”
“CONTROL ENSURES SECURITY.”
A clock ticks.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
A Quiet Threat
EXT. ROCKY FLATS PLANT — SECURITY CHECKPOINT — MORNING
A late-model SEDAN rolls toward the gate.
No sirens.
No urgency.
The DRIVER -- JACK MORROW (40s) -- wears khakis, a
windbreaker, and an expression that never gives anything
away.
In the passenger seat, LINDA PARK (30s), neat, composed,
holding a thin folder.
The car stops.
A SECURITY GUARD steps forward.
SECURITY GUARD
Morning. IDs, please.
Jack hands over credentials -- not badges.
The guard studies them.
SECURITY GUARD (CONT’D)
You folks are --
JACK MORROW
Federal Bureau of Investigation.
The guard stiffens -- just a degree.
Jack offers a polite smile.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
We’re here to speak with facility
leadership.
Routine notification.
SECURITY GUARD
Notification of --
Jack leans in slightly. Lowers his voice.
JACK MORROW
A credible threat.
Eco-terror group operating in the
area.
The guard’s eyes flick to the perimeter.
SECURITY GUARD
I’ll call it in.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Verification and Vigilance
INT. SECURITY BOOTH — CONTINUOUS
The guard picks up a phone.
Jack watches through the glass.
Linda opens her folder—just enough for the guard to see
official letterhead.
Nothing alarming.
Nothing specific.
The guard nods to himself.
SECURITY GUARD (INTO PHONE)
Yeah. FBI. Plainclothes. Says it’s
a notification.
A pause.
SECURITY GUARD (CONT’D)
Understood.
He hangs up.
SECURITY GUARD (TO JACK) (CONT’D)
You’ll need escorts.
JACK MORROW
Of course.
INT. ADMINISTRATION BUILDING — MORNING
Jack and Linda walk the polished corridors.
Badged EMPLOYEES glance up -- curious, but not alarmed.
This place is used to authority.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Cautious Cooperation
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM — MOMENTS LATER
A clean, well-appointed room.
Coffee already poured.
TOM HASKELL (50s)-- Rockwell facility manager -- enters,
smiling.
TOM HASKELL
Agent --
JACK MORROW
Morrow.
LINDA PARK
Park. EPA.
Haskell’s smile tightens—just a hair.
TOM HASKELL
What can we do for you?
Jack closes the door.
Not dramatically.
Just firmly.
JACK MORROW
We’ve received intelligence
regarding a group targeting federal
energy facilities.
We’re notifying you as a precaution.
TOM HASKELL
Targeting how?
JACK MORROW
Protests. Sabotage.
The usual playbook.
Linda watches Haskell carefully.
LINDA PARK
We’re not asking for action.
Just cooperation.
TOM HASKELL
Of course.
Safety is our top priority.
He means it.
Or believes he does.
JACK MORROW
We’d like to walk the site.
Understand your protocols.
TOM HASKELL
Happy to arrange that.
A beat.
TOM HASKELL (CONT’D)
Is there something specific we
should be concerned about?
Jack meets his eyes.
JACK MORROW
Nothing immediate.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Veiled Intentions
EXT. PARKING LOT — SAME
From a distance, UNMARKED VEHICLES begin arriving.
One by one.
They park calmly.
Deliberately.
No rush.
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM — SAME
Haskell gestures to the coffee.
TOM HASKELL
Can I get you anything?
Jack shakes his head.
JACK MORROW
We won’t be staying long.
Another truth that isn’t.
CUT TO:
A SECURITY CAMERA MONITOR
Jack and Linda exiting the room -- just two more visitors in
a system built for secrecy.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Tension at Rocky Flats
EXT. ROCKY FLATS PLANT — ADMINISTRATION BUILDING — LATE
MORNING
A mild Colorado morning.
Blue sky.
Light wind.
Jack and Linda exit the building with Tom, still cordial,
still calm.
TOM HASKELL
We’ll have an escort walk you
through the west wing first.
Glove box operations are sensitive --
Jack nods, listening.
Then --
A LOW RUMBLE.
Distant.
Out of place.
Haskell pauses.
TOM HASKELL (CONT’D)
What’s that?
Jack doesn’t look surprised.
EXT. PERIMETER ROAD — CONTINUOUS
A line of UNMARKED VEHICLES crests the rise.
Sedans.
SUVs.
Vans.
Too many.
They move with precision.
Not fast.
Certain.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Tension at the Gate
EXT. ADMIN BUILDING — CONTINUOUS
Haskell watches the vehicles approach.
His smile fades.
TOM HASKELL
Are those --
JACK MORROW
Yes.
EXT. SECURITY CHECKPOINT — SAME
The convoy reaches the gate.
Guards tense.
Jack raises a hand -- already walking forward.
JACK MORROW
Let them through.
The guards hesitate.
Then gates SLIDE OPEN.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Federal Intrusion
EXT. COURTYARD — CONTINUOUS
The convoy pours in.
Doors open.
FBI AGENTS step out -- armed, calm, methodical.
More than expected.
Way more.
Linda watches Haskell now.
LINDA PARK
Mr. Haskell --
She opens her folder.
Removes a document.
Hands it to him.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
This is a federal search warrant.
Haskell looks at the paper.
Reads the header.
Reads the signature.
The color drains from his face.
TOM HASKELL
This -- This facility is under the
Department of Energy --
JACK MORROW
-- which is why we’re here.
Jack steps closer.
Quiet. Professional.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
You are now legally required to
preserve all documents, materials,
and systems relevant to this
warrant.
Any interference will be considered obstruction of justice.
TOM HASKELL
You told us this was about --
JACK MORROW
We told you what we needed to tell
you.
INT. ADMIN BUILDING — SAME
Alarms do NOT sound.
Phones ring anyway.
Executives emerge from offices.
They see the agents.
They know.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Operation Underway
EXT. COURTYARD — CONTINUOUS
Agents fan out.
Some head for BUILDING 771.
Others for records.
Others to lock down exits.
No shouting.
No panic.
Just procedure.
TOM HASKELL
This will require clearance.
LINDA PARK
You’ve just been cleared.
TOM HASKELL
You don’t understand the
implications --
JACK MORROW
We do.
A beat.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
That’s why there are seventy of us.
EXT. ROOF — SAME
Exhaust stacks rise into the sky.
Smoke-less.
Quiet.
A flag flaps.
INT. SECURITY OFFICE — SAME
A DOE OFFICIAL grips a phone.
DOE OFFICIAL
(into phone)
They’re inside.
EXT. COURTYARD — CONTINUOUS
Jack watches agents disappear into buildings.
Linda stands beside him.
LINDA PARK
Once we start --
JACK MORROW
-- we don’t stop.
They exchange a look.
They both know that isn’t entirely true.
Tom Stands alone.
Watching control leave his hands.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Suspicion in the Processing Room
INT. BUILDING 771 — PROCESSING ROOM — DAY
A heavy steel door swings open.
Jack, Linda, and two FBI AGENTS step inside.
The room is spotless.
Too spotless.
Stainless steel surfaces gleam.
Floors freshly mopped—still damp at the edges.
The air smells faintly of disinfectant.
A ROCKWELL ESCORT stands by the door, hands folded.
ROCKWELL ESCORT
This is one of our primary
processing rooms.
Inactive at the moment.
Jack scans the room.
Empty racks.
Cleared workstations.
Hooks where equipment should be.
JACK MORROW
Inactive how long?
ROCKWELL ESCORT
Since early this morning.
Linda steps closer to a workbench.
Runs a finger across the surface.
Comes away clean.
No dust.
No residue.
LINDA PARK
What’s normally processed here?
ROCKWELL ESCORT
Reclamation. Recovery.
He gestures vaguely.
ROCKWELL ESCORT (CONT’D)
Low-level material.
Jack crouches near a floor drain.
Peers inside.
Dark.
But --
He straightens.
JACK MORROW
When was this room last used?
ROCKWELL ESCORT
Yesterday afternoon.
Jack looks around again.
Yesterday doesn’t fit.
LINDA PARK
Where’s the glove box inventory?
ROCKWELL ESCORT
Moved for routine maintenance.
Linda turns.
LINDA PARK
Moved where?
A beat too long.
ROCKWELL ESCORT
Adjacent rooms.
Jack’s eyes flick to the door.
JACK MORROW
Which ones?
ROCKWELL ESCORT
I’d have to check.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Empty Shelves, Heavy Tension
INT. PROCESSING ROOM — CONTINUOUS
One of the FBI AGENTS opens a cabinet.
Empty.
Another opens a secondary storage bay.
Also empty.
No tags.
No manifests.
Just bare metal shelves.
FBI AGENT
Sir?
Jack joins him.
At the back of the shelf --
A FAINT OUTLINE where a container once sat.
A clean rectangle surrounded by slightly darker steel.
Recently removed.
JACK MORROW
How many containers were in here?
ROCKWELL ESCORT
I don’t have that number.
Linda exhales slowly.
Keeps her voice level.
LINDA PARK
You’re required to preserve all
materials under warrant.
ROCKWELL ESCORT
Of course.
LINDA PARK
This room’s been cleared.
ROCKWELL ESCORT
We maintain high standards of
cleanliness.
Jack stands.
Looks the escort in the eye.
JACK MORROW
When we walked in this morning,
this room was already empty.
ROCKWELL ESCORT
That’s correct.
JACK MORROW
And you didn’t think to mention
that.
ROCKWELL ESCORT
You didn’t ask.
Silence.
That lands.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Chasing Shadows
INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE — MOMENTS LATER
Jack and Linda step out.
The door CLANGS shut behind them.
Agents move past, heading deeper into the facility.
Linda keeps walking.
LINDA PARK
They’re ahead of us.
JACK MORROW
They were ahead of us the moment we
drove through the gate.
He glances back at the sealed door.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
Mark it.
FBI AGENT
For what?
Jack doesn’t answer right away.
JACK MORROW
For what used to be here.
They move on.
Behind them, the hallway lights hum steadily.
The floor buffer returns -- quietly erasing the last of the
damp footprints.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Uncovering Deception
INT. RECORDS STORAGE — BUILDING 771 — DAY
A narrow room lined with METAL FILE CABINETS.
Boxes stacked neatly along the walls.
Each labeled. Each indexed.
Too orderly.
Jack, Linda, and two FBI AGENTS enter with Tom Haskell close
behind.
LINDA PARK
These are operational records?
TOM HASKELL
Primarily.
Some personal materials.
Jack clocks that.
INT. RECORDS STORAGE — CONTINUOUS
An FBI AGENT opens a box.
Inside: HANDWRITTEN NOTEBOOKS.
Leather-bound.
Worn edges.
Carefully numbered.
Not corporate.
Personal.
FBI AGENT
Sir.
Jack steps over.
Picks one up.
Flips it open.
INSERT — NOTEBOOK PAGE
Dates.
Times.
Technical shorthand.
“Incinerator run — bypassed secondary filter.”
“Pressure spike — logged as maintenance.”
Jack looks up.
JACK MORROW
Whose are these?
TOM HASKELL
(smiling politely)
Personal journals.
LINDA PARK
Personal?
TOM HASKELL
An engineer.
Kept notes from his previous work at NASA.
Linda takes the notebook.
Turns pages.
LINDA PARK
NASA uses plutonium incinerators?
Haskell doesn’t miss a beat.
TOM HASKELL
Experimental propulsion.
Different context.
Jack watches him closely.
JACK MORROW
Which NASA facility?
TOM HASKELL
I’d have to check.
Jack flips deeper into the notebook.
Stops.
INSERT — NOTEBOOK PAGE
“Continued burn despite DOE order.”
“HEPA integrity questionable.”
“Night shift preferred.”
Jack closes the book.
JACK MORROW
That’s not NASA.
Silence.
The HVAC hum grows louder.
TOM HASKELL
Those notes were never meant to be -
-
LINDA PARK
-- reviewed by federal
investigators?
Linda opens another notebook.
Then another.
All the same.
Different handwriting.
Same story.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
These aren’t diaries. They’re
operational logs.
TOM HASKELL
They’re incomplete. Out of context.
JACK MORROW
They’re dated.
Jack hands the book to an agent.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
Bag everything.
Haskell stiffens.
TOM HASKELL
Those materials are proprietary --
LINDA PARK
They’re evidence.
A beat.
TOM HASKELL
You’re misunderstanding --
JACK MORROW
No.
We’re understanding very clearly.
INT. RECORDS STORAGE — CONTINUOUS
Agents photograph shelves.
Log box numbers.
Seal evidence bags.
Haskell watches control slip away -- again.
LINDA PARK
Who wrote these?
TOM HASKELL
I don’t know.
Jack looks at him.
Doesn’t believe that for a second.
JACK MORROW
We’ll find out.
INT. HALLWAY — MOMENTS LATER
Jack and Linda step out.
The door locks behind them.
LINDA PARK
NASA.
Jack exhales -- half a laugh, no humor.
JACK MORROW
They think if they say it calmly
enough, it becomes true.
He looks back at the sealed door.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
This place runs on footnotes.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Command in the Shadows
INT. BUILDING 771 — INCINERATOR LEVEL — DAY
A lower level.
Older.
Louder.
The air feels different here -- thicker, warmer.
A MAINTENANCE HATCH is unbolted with a metallic CLANG.
Jack, Linda, two FBI AGENTS, and a DOE TECHNICIAN stand
ready.
The technician hesitates.
DOE TECHNICIAN
We don’t usually open this during
operations.
JACK MORROW
Today you do.
The technician pulls the hatch open.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Radiation Discovery in the Ventilation Shaft
INT. VENTILATION SHAFT — CONTINUOUS
Darkness.
A tunnel of corrugated metal stretching away.
The technician shines a flashlight inside.
The beam catches --
DUST.
Not insulation.
Not ash.
Fine. Metallic.
Suspended.
The technician freezes.
DOE TECHNICIAN
That’s not --
He stops himself.
Linda clips a HANDHELD GEIGER COUNTER to her belt.
It begins to CLICK.
Slowly.
Steady.
LINDA PARK
Is there supposed to be material in
the exhaust?
DOE TECHNICIAN
No.
The clicking speeds up.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Radiation Discovery in the Ventilation Shaft
INT. VENTILATION SHAFT — CONTINUOUS
An FBI AGENT swabs the interior wall.
The cloth comes away gray.
Almost shimmering.
FBI AGENT
Sir...
Jack leans in.
The Geiger counter is now CHATTERING.
JACK MORROW
Where does this duct lead?
DOE TECHNICIAN
To the HEPA plenums.
A beat.
LINDA PARK
Downstream?
DOE TECHNICIAN
Yes.
Jack straightens.
That lands.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Unforeseen Dangers
INT. PLENUM ACCESS — MOMENTS LATER
A massive industrial chamber.
Rows of HEPA FILTER HOUSINGS line the space like tombs.
Each one sealed.
Each one trusted.
The technician opens the first housing.
The filter inside is BLACKENED.
Not burned.
Coated.
DOE TECHNICIAN
That’s not supposed to happen.
Linda’s Geiger counter SHRIEKS.
She pulls it away instinctively.
LINDA PARK
That’s airborne.
Silence.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Uncontained Contamination
INT. PLENUM CHAMBER — CONTINUOUS
Another housing is opened.
Then another.
All the same.
Contaminated.
Every single one.
FBI AGENT
How much material are we talking
about?
The technician doesn’t answer right away.
Calculates.
Then --
DOE TECHNICIAN
At least dozens of pounds.
Jack stares at the filters.
Imagines the airflow.
The path.
JACK MORROW
This isn’t contained.
DOE TECHNICIAN
No.
Linda looks up.
LINDA PARK
Where does the exhaust go?
The technician points --
upward.
INT. EXHAUST STACK ACCESS — CONTINUOUS
A ladder ascends into darkness.
The air MOVES here.
Pulling upward.
Out.
The Geiger counter is SCREAMING now.
LINDA PARK
(turning to Jack)
This didn’t stay in the building.
Jack doesn’t respond.
He knows.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Escalation of Hazard
INT. INCINERATOR LEVEL — CONTINUOUS
Jack steps away from the group.
Keys his radio.
Keeps his voice calm.
JACK MORROW
(to radio)
I need everyone to stop what
they’re doing and listen.
A beat.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
We’re no longer dealing with
improper disposal.
He looks back at the ventilation shaft.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
This is uncontrolled release.
INT. PLENUM CHAMBER — CONTINUOUS
Linda stands alone for a moment.
Staring at the filters.
At what caught what never should’ve been loose.
She pulls a MASK up over her face.
Too late.
She knows it.
INT. CONTROL ROOM — SAME
Monitors still glow green.
All systems reading NORMAL.
A lie in real time.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Whispers of Deception
INT. PLENUM CHAMBER — BACK
Jack joins Linda.
LINDA PARK
They told us this was paperwork.
Jack nods.
JACK MORROW
They always do.
A beat.
LINDA PARK
This goes past the site.
JACK MORROW
I know.
He looks upward again.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
Which means it’s already outside
the warrant.
That’s the horror.
HOLD ON THE VENTILATION SHAFT.
Air rushing.
Carrying something invisible.
Something permanent.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Tension in the Command Room
INT. TEMPORARY COMMAND ROOM — ROCKY FLATS — DAY
A windowless room repurposed in a hurry.
Fold-out tables. Phones. Maps pinned to corkboard.
A DOE SEAL on the wall. Freshly taped. Slightly crooked.
The HUM of the building is louder here. Ventilation working
overtime.
JACK MORROW stands with a legal pad. LINDA PARK sits beside a
portable case — sampling gear, sealed.
Two FBI AGENTS at the door.
Across the table:
A DOE COUNSEL (50s), crisp suit, calm eyes.
A DOJ REP (40s), neat, polite, holding a thin binder.
A DOE PUBLIC AFFAIRS OFFICER (30s), quiet, watching.
A SITE HEALTH PHYSICIST (60s), white hair, hands folded.
No one looks panicked.
That’s what’s wrong.
DOE COUNSEL
We appreciate your diligence.
JACK MORROW
We opened plenums. They’re
contaminated.
DOE COUNSEL
We’re aware of your preliminary
observations.
LINDA PARK
It’s not preliminary. The filters
are hot.
The SITE HEALTH PHYSICIST shifts -- just slightly.
SITE HEALTH PHYSICIST
The readings you’re seeing are… localized.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
Airflow doesn’t localize.
Silence.
The DOJ REP flips a page in the binder like it’s routine.
DOJ REP
Let’s be careful with terminology.
Jack watches him. Waits.
DOJ REP (CONT’D)
“Uncontrolled release” has
statutory implications.
JACK MORROW
It also has literal implications.
DOE COUNSEL
No one is disputing your concern.
A beat.
DOE COUNSEL (CONT’D)
But we need to align on process.
Linda’s jaw tightens.
LINDA PARK
Process is why this happened.
The PUBLIC AFFAIRS OFFICER finally speaks—softly.
PUBLIC AFFAIRS OFFICER
There are communities adjacent to this site.
Linda looks at him.
LINDA PARK
I know.
PUBLIC AFFAIRS OFFICER
We should avoid speculation that could create—
LINDA PARK
-- panic?
DOE COUNSEL
Confusion.
Jack looks down at his pad. Writes one word:
CONFUSION.
He underlines it.
JACK MORROW
We need off-site sampling.
Downwind.
DOE COUNSEL
Off-site sampling requires
coordination with state partners.
LINDA PARK
That’s a delay.
DOE COUNSEL
That’s oversight.
A beat.
The DOJ REP slides the binder slightly forward.
DOJ REP
And because this is a weapons
facility, national security
protocols apply.
JACK MORROW
This is environmental.
DOJ REP
It’s both.
Linda opens her case. Takes out a sealed swab kit, sets it on
the table.
LINDA PARK
If airborne material is leaving the
stacks, it’s already public.
DOE COUNSEL
We have no evidence it’s leaving
the stacks.
Jack looks up.
JACK MORROW
Your monitors read green.
SITE HEALTH PHYSICIST
Because they are within limits.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
Limits you set.
Silence.
The DOE COUNSEL leans in — friendly.
DOE COUNSEL
Agent Morrow, we’re asking you to
keep your team focused on the scope
of the warrant.
JACK MORROW
The warrant doesn’t cover the wind.
The HUM intensifies — or it just feels like it.
The DOJ REP’s tone stays gentle.
DOJ REP
Here’s what we’re going to do.
He taps the binder.
DOJ REP (CONT’D)
All external communications go
through DOE.
Linda stares at him.
LINDA PARK
That’s not your call.
DOJ REP
It is today.
Jack watches Linda. Sees her deciding whether to explode.
She doesn’t.
She swallows it.
LINDA PARK
Then give us authority to sample.
DOE COUNSEL
We’ll arrange a coordinated plan.
JACK MORROW
When?
DOE COUNSEL
As soon as feasible.
Jack nods like he heard something useful.
He didn’t.
JACK MORROW
We’re going downwind this
afternoon.
The room stills.
DOE COUNSEL
You can’t --
JACK MORROW
We can.
The DOJ REP smiles, almost kindly.
DOJ REP
Agent Morrow, don’t turn this into
something it doesn’t need to be.
Jack meets his eyes.
JACK MORROW
It already is.
A beat.
The DOE COUNSEL stands. Smooth.
DOE COUNSEL
Then we’ll have an escort accompany
you.
Jack doesn’t react.
DOE COUNSEL (CONT’D)
For safety.
Jack writes another word:
ESCORT.
Underlines it twice.
CUT TO:
A wall clock.
The second hand moves.
Normal.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Tension in the Field
EXT. DOWNWIND OPEN LAND — LATE AFTERNOON
Rolling grass. Dry dirt. A fence line.
A mild Colorado breeze moving like nothing.
In the distance: the ROCKY FLATS PERIMETER — low buildings,
quiet stacks.
A DOE SUV parked nearby. Engine idling.
A DOE ESCORT (40s) stands a few paces away, hands in pockets.
Jack and Linda kneel in the grass.
Linda pulls on latex gloves.
She takes out a SOIL CORER.
Pushes it down.
The earth resists -- then gives.
She extracts a plug of soil.
Dark.
Ordinary.
She places it in a labeled jar.
LABEL:
RF-OUT-01 / DOWNWIND / 16:42
Jack watches. Scans the horizon.
JACK MORROW
How far?
LINDA PARK
Far enough.
She pulls out a handheld ALPHA SCINTILLATION PROBE.
Turns it on.
A soft BEEP.
A calm, digital display.
Jack watches her face—still, controlled.
Linda passes the probe over the jar.
Nothing.
She moves it lower—closer to the ground where the sample came
from.
The probe CLICKS.
Once.
Then again.
Then a rhythm.
Linda doesn’t react outwardly.
She takes a second sample.
RF-OUT-02.
Probe passes over it.
The clicking is faster now.
Jack’s eyes flick to the DOE ESCORT.
He’s pretending not to listen.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
(to Jack, low)
That’s not background.
JACK MORROW
How sure?
Linda looks at the display.
LINDA PARK
I’m sure.
She stands. Walks ten yards upwind.
Takes another sample.
RF-OUT-03.
Probe.
Clicking.
Not as fast -- but present.
She turns in a slow circle, reading the invisible.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
It’s not a point source.
Jack watches her. Watches the grass moving.
He looks toward the plant.
The stacks are distant. Quiet. Clean.
JACK MORROW
Could it be—
LINDA PARK
No.
She kneels again. Scrapes lichen off a rock with a sterile
blade.
It flakes into a bag.
Probe.
The clicking jumps.
Linda exhales — slow.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
Lichen collects airborne.
Jack swallows. Looks at the wind.
JACK MORROW
How long does this take to build
up?
LINDA PARK
Depends on how long it’s been
there.
The DOE ESCORT takes a step forward.
DOE ESCORT
We should stay within the approved
area.
Jack turns.
JACK MORROW
This is the approved area.
DOE ESCORT
I mean... we should avoid private
land.
Linda doesn’t look up.
LINDA PARK
Radiation doesn’t respect property
lines.
The DOE ESCORT’s smile is tight.
DOE ESCORT
Let’s not use loaded language.
Linda stands. Holds the probe at waist height.
She looks at him.
LINDA PARK
It’s loaded.
A beat.
Jack looks at the sealed jars. The labeled bags.
He sees the handwriting.
Hard evidence.
He points to the horizon — faint rooftops in the distance.
JACK MORROW
Those neighborhoods.
LINDA PARK
Yes.
Jack stares out.
The wind keeps moving.
Unremarkable.
He hears the clicking still, like an insect.
JACK MORROW
Bag it.
Linda does. Seals. Labels. Initials.
A procedural act.
A ritual.
Behind them, the DOE SUV idles -- steady exhaust, steady HUM.
CUT TO:
The grass.
Moving gently.
Like nothing happened.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Silent Burdens
INT. LOW-CEILING BAR — NIGHT
A narrow, dim bar tucked into an old brick building.
Wood worn smooth by decades of elbows.
A neon beer sign BUZZES — not loud, just present.
A few LOCALS nurse drinks. No TV sound. Just low
conversation.
Jack and Linda sit side by side at the bar.
Two drinks in front of them:
• Jack: whiskey, neat.
• Linda: beer she hasn’t touched yet.
They sit in silence for a moment.
The kind earned.
BARTENDER (50s) wipes the counter nearby, pretending not to
listen.
LINDA PARK
So.
Jack exhales.
JACK MORROW
So.
Linda finally takes a sip.
LINDA PARK
That wasn’t background.
JACK MORROW
No.
LINDA PARK
That wasn’t even close.
Jack turns his glass slightly. Watches the light move through
it.
JACK MORROW
You handled it clean.
LINDA PARK
That’s my job.
JACK MORROW
Most people don’t stay that calm
when the numbers stop behaving.
Linda shrugs.
LINDA PARK
Numbers don’t scare me.
Jack looks at her.
JACK MORROW
What does?
Linda considers that. Longer than expected.
LINDA PARK
People who already know the answer.
Jack nods. He understands that.
They sit again.
The neon BUZZ fills the gap.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
You ever notice how quiet it is out
here at night?
JACK MORROW
Colorado quiet.
LINDA PARK
It feels… clean.
Jack almost smiles.
JACK MORROW
That’s the trick.
Linda looks at him.
LINDA PARK
You sound like you’ve been here
before.
JACK MORROW
I grew up in Albuquerque.
Linda reacts — just a flicker.
LINDA PARK
Los Alamos.
Jack nods.
JACK MORROW
My dad was a machinist. Not a
scientist. Just… parts.
LINDA PARK
He ever talk about it?
JACK MORROW
Never.
Linda studies him.
LINDA PARK
But you noticed things.
Jack takes a drink.
JACK MORROW
Laundry that went straight into the
washer.
Boots left outside.
Showers that lasted too long.
A beat.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
Cancer took him before anyone said
the word “exposure.”
Linda absorbs that.
LINDA PARK
I’m sorry.
Jack shrugs — practiced.
JACK MORROW
They called it coincidence.
Linda gives a small, dry laugh.
LINDA PARK
They always do.
She finally looks down at her beer.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
My mother worked night shifts at a
semiconductor plant in San Jose.
Jack raises an eyebrow.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
Clean rooms. Bunny suits.
Everything “within tolerance.”
Jack waits.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
She miscarried twice before I was
born.
That lands.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
Doctor told her it was stress.
Jack doesn’t respond right away.
JACK MORROW
You ever tell her what you do?
LINDA PARK
No.
Jack looks surprised.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
She thinks I work in “compliance.”
Jack almost laughs.
Almost.
JACK MORROW
Technically true.
Linda smirks.
LINDA PARK
That’s what scares me.
They sit with that.
The bartender slides a bowl of PRETZELS toward them.
BARTENDER
On the house.
Jack looks up.
JACK MORROW
Why?
The bartender shrugs.
BARTENDER
You both look like you need
something salty.
He walks off.
Linda takes one.
LINDA PARK
So what happens next?
Jack stares into his glass.
JACK MORROW
They slow us down.
LINDA PARK
They take the samples.
JACK MORROW
They call it legacy.
Linda nods.
LINDA PARK
And the wind keeps blowing.
Jack looks at her. Really looks.
JACK MORROW
You could walk away.
LINDA PARK
You could too.
A beat.
They both know that’s not true.
Jack’s PHONE VIBRATES on the bar.
He glances at it.
Unknown internal extension.
He answers.
JACK MORROW
Morrow.
INTERCUT WITH:
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Urgent Discovery at Rocky Flats
INT. ROCKY FLATS — UNKNOWN ROOM — NIGHT
Low light.
An FBI AGENT (O.S.) — breath slightly quickened, but
controlled.
FBI AGENT (V.O.)
Sir. We found something.
Jack straightens.
LINDA PARK
(quiet)
What?
Jack holds up a finger to Linda.
JACK MORROW
Where?
FBI AGENT (V.O.)
Building 771. Lower level.
Jack frowns.
JACK MORROW
That area’s been cleared.
A beat.
FBI AGENT (V.O.)
That’s what we thought.
Jack leans forward.
JACK MORROW
What did you find?
A pause.
Not dramatic.
Measured.
FBI AGENT (V.O.)
You’re going to need to see it to
believe it.
Jack’s jaw tightens.
He looks at Linda.
JACK MORROW
We’re on our way.
He hangs up.
Linda’s already reaching for her jacket.
LINDA PARK
Infinity?
Jack blinks.
JACK MORROW
What?
LINDA PARK
Facilities don’t hide rooms.
They hide systems.
Jack stares at her.
Then:
JACK MORROW
Let’s go.
CUT TO:
The neon sign BUZZING.
Unchanged.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Entering the Unknown
INT. BUILDING 771 — LOWER SUBLEVEL — NIGHT
The corridor narrows.
Paint flakes. Pipes sweat.
The HUM down here isn’t background anymore -- it presses
against the chest.
Jack and Linda stand outside a STEEL AIRLOCK DOOR.
Stenciled lettering, faded but legible:
ROOM 141
Nothing else.
Two FBI AGENTS wait nearby, already uneasy.
Against the wall:
TWO MASSIVE YELLOW ANTI-CONTAMINATION SUITS.
Bulky. Industrial. Inhuman.
Jack stares at them.
JACK MORROW
These weren’t on the inventory.
FBI AGENT
They weren’t on the map either.
Linda steps toward the suits.
Runs a hand along the thick rubberized material.
LINDA PARK
These are full alpha containment.
Jack looks at her.
JACK MORROW
Meaning?
LINDA PARK
Meaning someone expected this to be
hot forever.
A beat.
They start suiting up.
The process is slow. Ritualistic.
Heavy boots locked into place.
Thick gloves sealed with metal rings.
Helmets lowered.
Breathing systems hiss to life.
Jack struggles briefly with a shoulder latch.
Linda helps him -- clumsy, human.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
You ever worn one of these?
JACK MORROW
Once.
LINDA PARK
How’d it go?
JACK MORROW
I quit smoking.
She smiles -- small, real.
The levity dies as the FINAL SEAL LOCKS.
The outside world drops away.
Their breathing fills their helmets.
The FBI AGENT hands Linda a GEIGER COUNTER.
It’s already clicking.
Fast.
Anxious.
LINDA PARK
That’s just outside the door.
Jack nods.
He reaches for the airlock handle.
JACK MORROW
Ready?
Linda meets his eyes through layered visors.
LINDA PARK
No.
A beat.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
Yes.
Jack pulls the lever.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Room 141: The Revelation
INT. ROOM 141 — CONTINUOUS
The door opens.
Light FLOODS out.
Cold. White. Endless.
Jack freezes.
Linda freezes.
The Geiger counter goes berserk -- a violent, erratic STORM
of clicks.
Then ---
It stops.
Not silence.
One continuous, unbroken TONE.
A single, sustained CLICK.
No rhythm.
No variation.
Just presence.
Linda looks down at the counter.
The needle is buried.
Past numbers.
Past meaning.
LINDA PARK
(through helmet, quiet)
That’s saturation.
Jack lifts his eyes.
ROOM 141 is massive -- far larger than the building footprint
allows.
The ceiling stretches high, disappearing into haze.
The floor is a grid.
Endless rows of IDENTICAL METAL CYLINDERS
-- drum-like containers, capped, sealed -- arranged with
mathematical precision.
Hundreds.
They recede into the distance until perspective collapses.
Lights line the ceiling in perfect intervals,
each one reflected off polished metal walls.
The reflections multiply the space.
No mirrors.
Just scale.
The room feels infinite anyway.
Jack steps forward.
His boots CLANG against metal flooring.
The sound echoes -- then dies quickly.
Too quickly.
The HUM here is absolute.
Not machinery.
Not ventilation.
Something deeper.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
Oh god.
She moves beside a cylinder.
Each one is stamped with a code.
Not warnings.
Not dates.
Numbers.
She runs the Geiger counter along the surface.
The tone does not change.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
It’s all hot.
Jack turns slowly, trying to see an end.
There isn’t one.
JACK MORROW
How many?
Linda shakes her head.
LINDA PARK
You don’t count this.
She looks up.
Along the far wall runs a MASSIVE INDUSTRIAL VENT --
active.
Pulling air.
Slow.
Relentless.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
This isn’t storage.
Jack walks further in.
Each step reveals more of the same.
Repetition as design.
JACK MORROW
Then what is it?
Linda kneels, inspecting a junction between rows.
She finds it.
A recessed channel.
A CONVEYANCE TRACK, worn smooth.
LINDA PARK
It’s accumulation.
She looks back at him.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
Everything that couldn’t be
accounted for.
Jack processes that.
JACK MORROW
They didn’t bury it.
LINDA PARK
No.
She stands.
LINDA PARK (CONT’D)
They centralized it.
Jack’s helmeted breath grows louder.
He imagines decades.
Material moving here quietly.
Night shifts.
Paperwork that never mentioned Room 141.
JACK MORROW
Why hide it?
Linda gestures around them.
LINDA PARK
Because this solves the problem.
Jack looks at the cylinders again.
All identical.
All sealed.
All permanent.
JACK MORROW
What problem?
Linda lifts the Geiger counter.
The steady tone continues.
LINDA PARK
Where to put the waste.
Jack’s eyes move back to the vent.
To the airflow.
To the quiet pull upward.
JACK MORROW
Where does this room exhaust?
Linda doesn’t answer immediately.
She already knows.
She tilts her head back.
Follows the duct.
LINDA PARK
Into the same system.
Jack’s stomach drops.
JACK MORROW
The stacks.
LINDA PARK
Yes.
They stand there.
Two figures in yellow suits.
Tiny against the scale.
The counter’s tone fills the room -- a flat line of sound.
Not alarm.
Not warning.
Just fact.
JACK MORROW
This room shouldn’t exist.
LINDA PARK
That’s why it does.
Jack keys his radio.
The sound barely penetrates the suit.
JACK MORROW
(to radio)
We’ve located Room One-Four-One.
Static.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
It’s fully loaded.
A beat.
JACK MORROW (CONT’D)
And it never stopped.
Linda looks back at the rows.
At the repetition.
At the intent.
LINDA PARK
This wasn’t negligence.
Jack nods.
JACK MORROW
It was policy.
They stand in silence.
The HUM.
The steady click.
ROOM 141 holds.
CUT TO BLACK.
The tone continues for a beat longer than comfortable.