EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL – NIGHT
A dirt canal cuts through the land -- not straight, but
curving, patient.
Dry.
No water.
No sound.
We drift slowly along the canal bed.
The soil is cracked and pale, holding the faint impression of
where water once argued its way through.
Towering Cottonwood trees line both sides -- ancient, thick-
trunked, their branches arching overhead like ribs.
Above the canal:
-- Backyards trimmed into obedience
-- Jogging paths groomed smooth and safe
-- Sprinklers clicking on in perfect, mechanical intervals
Water exists.
It just doesn’t come here anymore.
The canal slips onward beneath the neighborhoods,
disappearing into shadow -- a quiet passageway where nothing
flows.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Predator in the Night
EXT. BACKYARD – NIGHT
A vast, manicured backyard stretches into darkness -- too
big, too quiet.
Perfect grass. Trimmed hedges. A stone patio glows under a
porch light.
At the back door sits an AGED COCKER SPANIEL, cloudy-eyed,
ribs faintly visible beneath thinning fur.
The dog WHIMPERS -- a small, tired sound -- and scratches
once at the glass.
No response.
The dog settles back onto its haunches, ears twitching at
something it can’t see.
The night presses in.
Beyond the pool of porch light, the yard dissolves into
shadow.
The edge of the property blurs into a wall of trees and brush
-- untamed, breathing darkness.
The dog tilts its head.
A faint sound -- a shift in the grass.
The cocker spaniel stiffens. Its tail tucks low. A low,
uncertain WHINE escapes its throat.
Behind the dog, at the far edge of the yard --
A SHADOW slips free from the darkness.
At first, it barely moves. Just a suggestion. A distortion in
the night.
The dog slowly turns -- legs trembling.
The shadow grows taller. Wider.
A faint glint catches the porch light --
RED EYES.
Unblinking. Assessing.
The dog lets out a soft, pleading CRY.
The shadow closes in, swallowing the dog’s small body in
darkness.
A LOW, PRIMAL SNARL ripples through the yard -- not loud, not
rushed -- a warning meant only for its prey.
The shape lowers.
Muscle rolls beneath fur as the creature steps into the edge
of the light --
A MASSIVE MOUNTAIN LION, scarred and powerful, teeth bared,
breath slow and steady.
A heartbeat of stillness.
Then --
The mountain lion EXPLODES FORWARD, a blur of muscle and
teeth --
SMASH TO BLACK.
A short, wrenching SQUEAL cuts through the night.
Then --
Only the faint CREAK of the backyard trees... and the porch
light humming, indifferent.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Morning Echoes
INT. KITCHEN – MORNING
Early light slips through half-open blinds, striping the
kitchen in pale gold.
The house is old. Lived-in.
MATT LOCKWOOD (40s) stands at the stove in a faded T-shirt,
barefoot, sleeves pushed up -- military tattoos worn soft by
time.
He cracks eggs into a pan.
SIZZLE.
Coffee BREWS.
Toast POPS.
This is a man who keeps things moving.
At the table, SEAN LOCKWOOD (13) slouches in a hoodie, hair
wild, eyes half-open.
Scrolling. Pretending not to be awake.
Slow, shuffling footsteps from the hall.
BRUCE LOCKWOOD (70s) appears in the doorway, flannel buttoned
wrong, pajama pants rumpled.
He stops -- unsure where he is.
Matt notices instantly.
MATT
Morning, Dad.
Bruce squints. Takes in the room.
BRUCE
...Morning.
A beat. He scans again.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
You cooking?
Matt smiles. Gentle.
MATT
Yeah.
Bruce nods. That helps.
Sean looks up.
SEAN
Good eggs or burnt ones?
MATT
Burnt builds character.
Sean smirks.
Bruce eases into a chair, hands resting on the table like
anchors.
He watches Matt cook.
BRUCE
Your mother used to make them like
that.
Matt doesn’t look at him.
MATT
I remember.
Silence. Full, not awkward.
Matt plates the eggs. Slides one to Bruce, one to Sean.
Bruce studies his plate.
BRUCE
You didn’t have to.
MATT
I wanted to.
Bruce nods. Accepts that.
They eat.
Sean pokes at his eggs.
SEAN
We’re out of hot sauce.
MATT
We’ll survive.
SEAN
Barely.
Bruce looks up suddenly.
BRUCE
Who’s “we”?
Matt turns.
MATT
Me. You. Sean.
Bruce frowns.
BRUCE
Sean?
SEAN
Hey, Grandpa.
Bruce studies him -- then recognition flickers.
BRUCE
Right. Sean.
Relief crosses his face too quickly.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
You’ve gotten tall.
SEAN
Guess so.
Bruce lifts his fork. His hand trembles.
Matt notices. Looks away.
A few quiet bites.
Then Bruce pauses.
Listens.
BRUCE
You hear that?
Matt stops.
MATT
Hear what?
Bruce tilts his head, eyes distant but focused.
BRUCE
The canal.
MATT
The canal is bone dry, Dad.
BRUCE
It used to sound like it was
breathing.
Sean glances toward the window.
SEAN
Why do they call it the High Line
Canal?
Bruce smiles faintly. This one sticks.
BRUCE
Because it doesn’t chase water
downhill.
Matt looks at him now.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
High line canals run above
everything else. They’re built
along the spine of the land -- just
high enough to decide where the
water goes.
Sean leans in.
SEAN
So... it chooses?
Bruce nods.
BRUCE
Gravity does the work. But only
after someone tells it where to
start.
(beat)
You shut it at the top --
everything below dries out.
Doesn’t matter how much water’s
left anywhere else.
Sean considers that.
Bruce meets Matt’s eyes. Clear for a moment.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
People like thinking they’re in
control of things that move.
Sean takes another bite.
SEAN
These are actually good.
Matt exhales -- almost a laugh.
MATT
High praise.
Bruce eats. Smiles.
For just a moment -- the house holds.
Matt gathers the plates, crosses to the sink.
As he turns on the faucet --
For just a moment, before the water hits the basin --
A faint, hollow RUSH drifts in through the open window.
Not wind.
Not traffic.
Something deeper.
Matt pauses.
Listens.
The sound is already gone.
He turns the faucet off.
Genres:
["Drama","Family"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
A Call of Duty
INT. COLORADO PARKS AND WILDLIFE – SATELLITE OFFICE – DAY
A small, utilitarian office.
No buzz. No chatter. Just the low HUM of a mini fridge and
the tick of a wall clock that’s a few minutes slow.
Matt sits alone at a metal desk near a window that looks out
on scrubland and distant cottonwoods, boots propped up on the
desk.
His weathered ostrich skin cowboy boots have seen better
days. Just like the man wearing them.
He nurses a burnt cup of coffee.
A folded newspaper lies open in front of him.
His eyes drift, unfocused -- then stop.
A headline catches:
“SECOND ROBBERY REPORTED IN CHERRY HILLS — POLICE HAVE NO
LEADS”
Matt exhales through his nose. Almost a laugh.
He folds the paper once and sets it aside -- like something
he doesn’t want touching his hands anymore.
Matt leans back in his chair. The faint CREAK echoes too
loudly in the quiet office.
He glances at a corkboard on the wall --
Maps of the canal system. Handwritten notes. Red pushpins
clustered tighter than they should be.
Matt studies it.
The DESK PHONE RINGS.
Sharp. Startling.
Matt flinches before he can stop himself.
He picks up.
MATT
Parks and Wildlife. Officer
Lockwood.
A beat. Static on the line. Wind.
An older woman’s voice pushes through -- thin, shaken, trying
very hard to stay polite.
CAROLINE (V.O.)
Hello? Yes -- hi. I’m not sure
I’ve got the right number. I was
told to call Parks and Wildlife.
Matt straightens slightly.
MATT
You do. What seems to be the
problem, ma’am?
Another beat. A breath being gathered.
CAROLINE (V.O)
It’s my dog, Betsy. She’s -- she’s
gone.
Matt closes his eyes -- just for a second.
MATT
Okay. Tell me what happened.
Her voice trembles now, despite her effort to sound composed.
CAROLINE (V.O)
I let her out last night before
bed. She’s old, so I always wait by
the door until he’s back inside.
But... I must’ve gotten distracted.
I don’t know. I must have.
Matt listens. Doesn’t interrupt.
CAROLINE (V.O.)
This morning I found her in the
backyard.
A pause. Something unspoken hangs in the silence.
CAROLINE VOLKER (V.O.)
What was left of her.
Matt’s jaw tightens.
MATT
I’m sorry.
She exhales -- relief at hearing that much.
CAROLINE (V.O.)
I think it was coyotes. They’ve
been getting bolder lately.
Matt glances again at the clustered pushpins on the map.
MATT
Did you see anything last night?
Hear anything?
CAROLINE (V.O.)
No. That’s what’s bothering me.
He didn’t bark. Not once.
Matt doesn’t respond immediately.
MATT
Where do you live, Caroline?
She gives the address.
Matt stands, already reaching for his jacket.
MATT (CONT’D)
I’m going to come take a look.
CAROLINE (V.O)
Oh -- thank you. I didn’t want to
bother anyone. I just... I wanted
to understand.
Matt hesitates, then chooses his words carefully.
MATT
Don’t touch anything in the yard.
And keep your doors locked.
A beat.
CAROLINE(V.O)
Of course.
The line clicks dead.
Matt lowers the phone slowly.
As he heads for the door, the corkboard map catches his eye
one last time.
Matt exits.
The door shuts behind him with a dull, final THUD.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
The Silent Threat
EXT. BACKYARD – DAY
A pristine backyard under clear Colorado sunlight.
Too clean.
Too normal.
White patio furniture. A bird feeder swaying gently in the
breeze.
Wind chimes CLICK softly, cheerful and out of place.
Matt steps through the open side gate and stops.
Doesn’t move forward yet.
Just looks.
The grass near the back fence is disturbed -- not torn up,
not chaotic.
Pressed flat.
As if something heavy waited there.
CAROLINE VOLKER (80s) stands near the patio door, wrapped in
a cardigan despite the warmth.
She clutches a coffee mug with both hands like it might
shatter.
CAROLINE
Thank you for coming so quickly.
Matt nods, eyes never leaving the yard.
MATT
Where did you find him?
Caroline points.
Near the hedgerow -- where manicured lawn gives way to
something less controlled.
Matt approaches slowly. Deliberate. Each step measured.
The smell hits first.
Something coppery. Animal. Feral.
At the edge of the hedges lies what remains of the COCKER
SPANIEL.
Or rather -- parts of it.
Matt crouches.
The body hasn’t been dragged.
Hasn’t been scattered.
It’s been worked.
The ribcage is exposed -- cleanly.
Matt studies the ground around it.
No signs of a chase.
Coyotes leave chaos.
This is... orderly.
Matt notices something else.
The dog’s collar -- intact.
Still buckled.
Teeth marks pressed deep into the leather.
Matt gently touches the edge of the collar.
The indentation is wrong.
Too wide.
His eyes move to the grass beyond the body...
TRACKS.
Matt pulls a small ruler from his pocket and measures the
print without ceremony.
He exhales slowly.
Behind him, Caroline watches, reading his face.
CAROLINE
It was quick, wasn’t it?
Matt doesn’t answer immediately.
He rises and walks the perimeter of the yard.
Stops near the fence.
There -- the slightest bend in the chain-link.
Barely noticeable.
As if something passed through rather than over.
Matt looks beyond the fence.
The canal corridor looms just past the property line -- dry,
overgrown, quiet.
He turns back to Caroline.
MATT
Did your dog bark?
She shakes her head.
CAROLINE
He always barked. At squirrels. At
shadows. But last night... nothing.
Matt nods once.
That confirms it.
MATT
I wish I had better news. This was
a mountain lion.
A beat.
The wind chimes click again.
Caroline’s grip tightens on the mug.
CAROLINE
Mountain lion? Oh my.
Matt looks back at the yard. At the hedges. At the canal
beyond.
A long silence.
Somewhere far off -- a bird SCREECHES and takes flight.
Matt straightens, resolve settling in.
He takes one last look at the collar.
Then at the canal.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Tracks in the Shadows
EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL – DAY
The dry canal -- a scar cutting through the landscape.
No water. No movement.
On either side -- backyards give way to brush, cottonwoods,
and scrub. Civilization thinning out by the footstep.
Matt climbs down into the canal bed.
He stops.
Listens.
Nothing.
Matt moves forward slowly, scanning the ground...
Near the base of the canal wall --
TRACKS.
Large. Deliberate.
Mountain lion.
The pads are clearly defined, pressed deep despite the dry
surface.
The animal carried weight. Confidence.
Matt crouches and studies them.
They move with purpose -- not wandering, not circling.
Matt follows the tracks.
Ten feet ahead --
Another set of impressions intersects them.
BOOT PRINTS.
Human.
Heavy tread. Work boots. Deep heel marks.
Matt’s brow furrows.
The boot prints don’t avoid the animal tracks.
They merge.
Man and predator moving in the same direction.
Matt straightens slowly and looks down the canal corridor.
It stretches on -- a straight, hidden artery threading
beneath neighborhoods, golf courses, developments.
A perfect passageway.
Matt continues.
He spots something near the canal wall -- a faint glint half-
buried in dust and weeds.
He kneels.
Carefully brushes away grit --
A gold earring, bent, the clasp torn loose.
Matt holds it between his fingers.
Expensive. Tasteful. Not costume.
He scans the area.
No signs of struggle.
Just... dropped.
He slips it into his pocket and looks back down at the
ground.
The mountain lion tracks continue.
So do the boot prints.
They don’t diverge.
They disappear together around a bend in the canal where
brush thickens -- shadows deepen.
His gaze drifts --
The world SHIFTS.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
A Carefree Run
EXT. MITCHELL HOUSE – DAY (FLASHBACK)
A modest, sun-warmed house.
Rose-yellow brick. Red asphalt shingles.
The canal churns through backyards thick with brush and tall
grass -- nature still winning.
The ROCKY MOUNTAINS loom -- closer. Wilder. Untouched.
YOUNG MATT (13) bursts out the back door, unstoppable energy.
ARTIE, a young German Shepherd, barrels after him.
On the patio:
CLARA MITCHELL, hands deep in dirt, waters lilacs.
BRUCE, younger, solid -- a man who believes the world behaves
if you respect it.
MATT
I’m taking Artie for a run on the
canal.
CLARA
Alright. Just be careful.
Bruce looks up from his book. Hesitates.
Matt is already backing away, grinning.
MATT
I know, I know. I’ll be careful. I
promise.
Genres:
["Drama","Coming-of-Age"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Echoes of Survival
EXT. CANAL TRAIL – DAY
A dirt track hugging the rushing water.
Matt and Artie jog past a red barn.
Past acres of scraped land.
A massive wooden sign looms:
“COMING SOON – CHERRY RIDGE
A DIVISION OF CHERRY HILLS”
Matt slows, catching his breath.
Artie suddenly pulls hard.
EXT. WILDERNESS – DAY
Artie drags Matt off the trail.
MATT
Artie! Get back on the trail!
Too late.
Artie stops.
Sniffs.
The world goes DEAD QUIET.
No water.
No birds.
No wind.
Matt feels it before he sees it.
Behind him --
A MASSIVE MOUNTAIN LION steps from the brush.
Ten feet back.
Silent.
Its body of muscle and tawny fur fills the space like
something summoned.
The animal’s eyes lock onto Matt.
Matt turns -- looks down at Artie.
Don’t bark.
Artie’s body trembles.
Then --
BARK.
The lion DROPS LOW.
Muscle coils. Rear legs pumping.
A guttural SNARL tears through the silence.
Then --
The lion HITS.
Matt goes down hard, the air ripped from his lungs.
Claws. Teeth. Weight.
The world becomes FUR AND BLOOD AND NOISE.
Matt struggles beneath it -- hands shaking, vision blurring.
The lion swipes --
A claw TEARS INTO MATT’S SHOULDER.
Blood sprays.
Artie lunges, teeth grazing the lion’s haunch.
The lion turns on him.
MATT (CONT’D)
Artie!
Artie circles -- low, desperate --
Then LEAPS, jaws clamping onto the lion’s foot.
The lion ROARS.
Matt scrambles up --
Grabs a thick branch --
WHAM.
The lion stumbles back.
Matt and Artie RUN.
EXT. CANAL TRAIL – DAY
They burst onto the trail.
Matt stumbles.
Falls.
The world spins.
Blood pools beneath him.
Artie barks -- frantic, protective -- standing over Matt.
A SHADOW rushes in --
A JOGGER drops to his knees.
JOGGER
Stay with me, buddy! You’re gonna
be okay!
END FLASHBACK
EXT. CANAL – DAY (BACK TO PRESENT)
Matt snaps back.
He’s breathing hard.
The canal is dry again.
Silent.
He looks down at the ground.
At the tracks.
At the boot prints.
Matt touches the scar on his shoulder.
Stands there for a long moment.
Then turns and heads back the way he came, boots echoing
against the dry canal floor.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Urgent Warnings
INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT – BULLPEN – DAY
Glass walls. Framed commendations. A coffee machine hums.
OFFICER KATE LEMON (30s) stands at a whiteboard, mid-
conversation with a UNIFORMED OFFICER, jotting notes with
practiced efficiency.
She’s sharp. Grounded. A cop who believes in order because
chaos takes too much energy.
Matt appears at the edge of the bullpen.
Kate clocks him immediately.
OFFICER LEMON
(to officer)
Hold that thought.
She caps the marker and turns.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
You look like you crawled out of a
ditch.
MATT
Close.
Kate gestures him toward her desk. They sit.
Matt doesn’t waste time.
MATT (CONT’D)
I just came from a wildlife call.
Backyard off Devonshire.
Kate leans back, folds her arms.
OFFICER LEMON
Coyotes again?
Matt shakes his head.
MATT
Mountain lion.
That lands -- but Officer Lemon keeps her face neutral.
OFFICER LEMON
We’ve had sightings all summer.
What does this have to do with me?
Matt reaches into his pocket.
Sets down a small, bent gold earring between them.
Officer Lemon looks at it. Doesn’t touch it yet.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
What am I looking at?
MATT
Found it in the canal corridor.
Same stretch where we’ve had the
last two burglaries.
Officer Lemon finally picks it up. Turns it over.
Professional curiosity sharpens.
OFFICER LEMON
You’re saying a mountain lion is
robbing houses?
Matt doesn’t smile.
MATT
I’m saying it wasn’t alone.
Officer Lemon studies him now.
OFFICER LEMON
You have boot prints?
MATT
Fresh. Same direction as the lion
tracks.
Officer Lemon sets the earring down slowly.
OFFICER LEMON
Okay. That’s... unusual.
Matt presses.
MATT
We need to close the canal trail.
Immediately.
Kate exhales -- not annoyed, but weary.
OFFICER LEMON
Matt, that trail is used by half
the town. Runners. Kids. Commuters.
You can’t shut it down on a hunch.
MATT
This isn’t a hunch.
OFFICER LEMON
It’s not a homicide. And right now,
I don’t have a crime scene I can
sell upstairs.
Matt leans forward.
MATT
You will.
Officer Lemon holds his gaze.
OFFICER LEMON
Even if I agreed with you -- which
I don’t -- that call isn’t mine.
(beat)
If you want that trail closed,
you’ll need sign-off from the
mayor.
Matt nods once. Expected.
MATT
Where can I find him?
Officer Lemon stands, already grabbing her jacket.
OFFICER LEMON
Right now? Smiling for cameras.
She heads toward the exit. Matt follows.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
Ribbon-cutting ceremony. New
library on Maple. He’s been talking
about it for weeks like it’s the
Second Coming.
They stop at the door.
Kate turns back to Matt.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
Just so we’re clear -- if you walk
into that event talking about
predators and shut-downs, he’s
going to hear panic, not
prevention.
Matt nods.
MATT
I’m used to that.
Kate studies him a moment longer.
He exits.
Kate watches him go -- uneasy now.
Genres:
["Crime","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Tension at the Ribbon-Cutting
EXT. LIBRARY – DAY
Blue sky. Clean air. A brand-new brick-and-glass library
gleams in the sun like a monument to good intentions.
A yellow ribbon stretches across the front steps.
A small CROWD gathers -- donors, city council members,
developers, local press. Smiling faces. Polite applause.
At the center of it all:
MAYOR REYNOLDS (50s) -- silver-haired, immaculately dressed,
every inch a man who believes progress is fragile and must be
protected.
A PODIUM. MICROPHONES.
Matt stands at the edge of the crowd, eyes scanning.
He spots the mayor immediately.
And the mayor spots him.
A flicker of recognition. A pause. Then the mayor smiles --
the kind that doesn’t invite conversation, only postpones it.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
(over mic)
-- another proud moment for Cherry
Hills. A place where our children
can learn, grow, and feel safe.
Polite applause.
Matt steps forward as the mayor finishes.
The mayor steps away from the podium, scissors in hand,
photographers closing in.
Matt intercepts him just before the ribbon is cut.
MATT
Mayor Reynolds.
The mayor turns -- already annoyed, already calculating.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Officer Mitchell. This isn’t
exactly the setting for --
MATT
We need to close the high line.
The words land wrong. Too blunt. Too soon.
The mayor’s smile freezes -- then resets.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Today is about celebration.
He gestures toward the ribbon, the cameras.
MAYOR REYNOLDS (CONT’D)
Not fear.
Matt lowers his voice.
MATT
I’ve got confirmed mountain lion
activity inside residential yards.
Not sightings. Kills.
The mayor’s eyes flick -- not to Matt, but to the nearby
REPORTERS.
Then --
The Mayor’s gaze shifts.
Just past Matt, near the steps, stands GLOVER THOMPSON (50s).
Immaculate. Relaxed.
He watches the Mayor. His eyes don’t flicker. Don’t blink.
Not curious -- evaluative.
The Mayor clocks it.
His shoulders stiffen. His smile tightens by a fraction.
He steps closer, intimate now.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
We’ve coexisted with wildlife here
for decades.
MATT
This isn’t coexistence.
The mayor exhales slowly.
A beat.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
If I close it, panic moves faster
than facts. And once that happens,
I don’t get to decide what falls
apart.
Matt doesn’t blink.
MATT
You’re already deciding. You’re
just choosing what breaks.
The MAYOR’S AIDE clears his throat nearby.
MAYOR’S AIDE
Sir, we’re ready.
The mayor nods -- then looks back at Matt.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
I suggest you handle this quietly.
However that needs to happen.
A pause.
Matt leans in.
MATT
Quiet is how it learned where we
don’t look.
That lands.
The mayor studies Matt -- the exhaustion, the certainty.
For just a moment, the mask slips.
Then the cameras CLICK.
The mayor turns, all charm again.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Let’s give the people what they
came for.
He raises the scissors.
Matt steps back as the ribbon is CUT.
Applause ERUPTS.
Flashbulbs POP.
The ribbon falls to the ground -- bright, severed.
Matt watches it hit the concrete.
Behind the smiles, behind the clapping --
The canal runs unseen.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Silent Pursuit
EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL TRAIL – DAY
The ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGE looms in the distance -- jagged,
indifferent.
Ancient stone holding its line.
Closer in --
The High Line Canal runs parallel to the trail.
Dry.
Silent.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
FOOTSTEPS -- steady, rhythmic.
A YOUNG WOMAN (20s), athletic, jogs alone along the
recreation trail.
Earbuds in. Hood up. Focused.
She runs deeper.
The cottonwoods lean in tighter.
THROUGH THE TREES
A faint RUSTLE.
Behind a veil of mist and shadow --
Something large shifts position.
Purposeful.
BACK TO JOGGER
She slows slightly. Shoulders tense.
The trees around her exhale -- a soft, collective rustle,
like lungs filling.
She quickens her pace.
THROUGH THE TREES
Her movement fractures through the trunks -- flashes of
color, motion, breath.
The canal below mirrors her path perfectly.
A parallel line.
Unseen.
A LOW GROWL vibrates the air.
Deep. Resonant. Felt more than heard.
BACK TO JOGGER
She stops.
Pulls out one earbud.
Silence.
Her jaw tightens. Eyes scan.
Pulls out the second earbud --
The world rushes back in.
Wind in leaves.
A distant birdcall.
Her breathing.
Then --
Nothing.
She exhales. Laughs softly. Shaky.
Turns to go --
SNAP.
A branch behind her jerks violently, recoiling from pressure.
She spins.
Sound DROPS AWAY.
The canal, the trees, the trail -- all holding their breath.
She takes a step back.
WHAM!
A MASSIVE SHAPE erupts from the cottonwoods in a blur of
CLAWS AND FANGS.
The impact is violent, surgical -- like a wave hitting the
shore and pulling back just as fast.
She slams to the ground.
A scream rips out of her -- cut short as she’s dragged
sideways, down, off the trail.
Into shadow.
Into the canal corridor.
Then --
Silence.
Stillness.
The trail lies empty.
A single RUNNING SHOE, blood-slick and twisted, rests at the
edge of the path.
Laces still tied.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Tensions Over Dinner
EXT. MITCHELL HOUSE – KITCHEN – NIGHT
Matt enters with a pizza box, cardboard bowed from heat.
He sets it on the old kitchen table.
Sean is already there, hoodie cinched tight, restless.
Bruce lowers himself into a chair opposite Sean -- careful,
deliberate, like gravity can’t be trusted.
Matt opens the box.
Pepperoni. Steam rises.
He hands Bruce a slice.
Bruce takes it with both hands.
BRUCE
Smells right.
Matt sits.
MATT
Simple felt safer.
Bruce nods.
Sean grabs two slices.
SEAN
You’re late.
MATT
Traffic.
They eat.
Not awkward. Just quiet.
Bruce chews slowly, eyes drifting to the dark kitchen window -
- the backyard swallowed in shadow.
SEAN
So what’d the mayor say?
Matt takes a bite. Thinks.
MATT
He said no.
SEAN
Figures.
MATT
Said we shouldn’t panic people.
Bruce frowns, still watching the yard.
BRUCE
People should panic sometimes.
Matt looks at him.
MATT
Yeah?
BRUCE
Keeps you from pretending you’re
safe.
A beat.
SEAN
So can I ride the canal tomorrow or
not?
Matt sets his slice down.
MATT
No.
Immediate.
SEAN
Dad --
MATT
No.
SEAN
Everyone rides it. It’s the fastest
way to Kevin’s.
MATT
Everyone isn’t you.
Sean pushes back, chair scraping.
SEAN
You don’t get to just --
MATT
-- Keep you alive. That part’s
mine.
Sean falters.
SEAN
You don’t trust me.
Matt exhales.
MATT
I don’t trust what’s moving through
here.
Bruce sets his pizza down.
Looks at Matt -- clear, intent.
BRUCE
Something learned the water.
Silence.
SEAN
What does that mean?
Bruce blinks. The certainty slips.
BRUCE
I... I don’t know.
He rubs his temples.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
I keep losing pieces.
Matt reaches across, steadies his hand.
MATT
Breathe.
Bruce does -- but his eyes stay sharp.
Matt closes the pizza box.
MATT (CONT’D)
Sean. Homework.
Sean hesitates, then heads down the hall.
Matt and Bruce remain.
The window watches them back.
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
Matt gets into bed and turns off the light on his bedside
table.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Rooftop Dreams and Ominous Eyes
EXT. ROOFTOP - DAY (DREAM SEQUENCE)
Matt (16) sits on a rusty metal lawn chair and holds a BB gun
at aluminum cans on the ledge -- CLICK. Misses.
The sky turns grey. In an instant, a raging thunderstorm
commences.
MATT
Aw, crap.
Matt gets soaked. He turns his gaze over the roof ledge at --
The rushing waters of the canal. He smiles.
INT. GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
Matt fills up a black inner-tube with a bike pump.
A gleeful Artie watches him and wags his tail with delight.
MATT
You can come too, Artie.
EXT. CANAL - MOMENTS LATER
Matt tubes down the fast flowing waters of the canal,
grinning from ear to ear. Artie paddles skillfully behind
him.
Then, we hear a familiar GROWL.
The hairs stand up on the back of Matt’s neck as he turns his
gaze to a giant cottonwood.
At its trunk is a dark tree hollow, wherein --
TWO PIERCING RED EYES STARE BACK.
END DREAM SEQUENCE
CUT HARD TO:
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Haunted Reflections
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
Matts bolts upright, drenched in sweat.
He steps over to the window and peaks through the slats of
the blinds. Only darkness meets his gaze.
Matt looks down at a box full of pictures and memorabilia.
He picks up a framed NAVY SEAL TRIDENT with a folded American
flag behind it.
Matt stares at the trident, lost in thought.
INT. BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Matt turns on the light and looks at his own tired
reflection.
Doesn’t much like what he sees -- a deep scar of claw marks
streaked across his shoulder.
His torso and arms are peppered with various military
tattoos, but they still can’t mask the injury.
He rubs his fingers over it.
Four or five prescription bottles dot the ledge of the
bathroom sink.
He picks a bottle up, takes out a pill, and pops it.
He closes the bottle back up gives it a shake -- only a
couple left.
Matt sighs and turns off the light.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Morning Realizations
INT. KITCHEN – MORNING
Early light filters through the blinds, pale and brittle.
Matt stands at the sink, half-awake, haunted.
He turns the faucet.
Water pours into a glass.
He stops it halfway.
Watches the water settle. Still. Clear.
Matt lifts the glass -- weighs it in his hand.
Something about it doesn’t sit right.
He looks out the window.
The backyard lies quiet.
Beyond it -- the canal.
Dry. Cracked. Empty.
A concrete wound cutting through the earth.
Matt turns back to the sink.
Opens the faucet again.
The water climbs -- higher, higher -- until the glass is
full, trembling at the edge of overflow.
He shuts it off.
Studies the surface tension. One wrong move and it spills.
Matt sets the glass down carefully.
A beat.
He picks up the newspaper from the counter and carries it to
the table.
As he sits, Sean shuffles in, hair a mess, still wearing
yesterday’s hoodie.
Sean grabs a bowl, pours cereal. Too much.
Milk follows -- flooding the bowl until it laps over the rim
and spills onto the counter.
Sean barely notices.
MATT
Morning.
SEAN
Hey.
Sean wipes the milk with his sleeve, brings the bowl to the
table, starts eating.
Crunch. Slurp.
Matt opens the paper.
Then stops.
His eyes fix on the page -- not the headline, but a small map
graphic tucked beside the article.
Matt folds the paper -- slow, deliberate -- and slides it
toward Sean.
The headline faces him:
“CHARITY GALA HONORING DEBRA AND MARTIN GLOVER TO BE HELD AT
THE BUELL THEATRE THIS FRIDAY.”
Sean barely looks up.
Matt’s eyes drift back to the window.
To the canal.
Then looks down at his full glass of water.
At the untouched cereal milk spreading across the table.
Then -- realization clicks.
Not sudden.
Not loud.
Cold.
MATT
(low, to himself)
They go where the water doesn’t.
Sean looks up now.
SEAN
What?
Matt doesn’t answer.
His gaze locks onto the dry canal outside -- a perfect, empty
artery running straight through the town.
A place where nothing flows.
Matt stands.
The chair legs scrape sharply against the floor.
SEAN (CONT’D)
Dad?
Matt grabs his jacket from the back of the chair.
The glass of water trembles -- then finally spills, a thin
stream sliding across the table and dripping onto the floor.
Matt doesn’t notice.
He’s already moving.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Reflections on Abundance
EXT. DENVER WATER COMPANY – DAY
A Romanesque rotunda, all pale stone and civic pride.
At its center: a fountain -- water spilling endlessly,
indifferent to scarcity.
Matt stands beside it, still, watching the water cycle back
into itself.
Above him, carved into the ceiling:
“AND MEN SHALL FASHION GLACIERS INTO GREENNESS AND HARVEST
APRIL RIVERS IN THE AUTUMN.”
Matt squints at the words.
A YOUNG ASSISTANT (20s), polished and pleasant, approaches.
ASSISTANT
Good morning, Officer Lockwood. Mr.
Dent can see you now.
Matt gives the fountain one last look -- the excess -- then
follows.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Tension in the Office
INT. OFFICE – DAY
Glass. Steel.
Mountains framed in the windows like curated art.
WALTER DENT (50s), silver-haired, unruffled, sits behind a
spotless desk.
He looks less like a public servant and more like someone who
answers to shareholders.
MATT sits opposite him -- rigid, coiled.
WALTER
How can I assist you, officer?
MATT
I’m investigating animal activity
along the High Line Canal. I’m
trying to understand why it’s dry.
Walter considers him -- polite, already calibrating.
WALTER
Of course.
He rises, crosses to a sleek water dispenser.
Fills a tall glass to the brim.
WALTER (CONT’D)
The drought’s given us cover. We’ve
deferred restoration until Q4 next
year.
He takes a long drink. Unhurried.
WALTER (CONT’D)
After that -- it becomes a
financial decision. Empty corridors
are easier to manage than flowing
ones.
MATT
Funny thing about droughts.
Predators don’t wait them out.
Walter smiles faintly.
WALTER
My mandate is conservation.
Matt watches him carefully now.
MATT
I thought the canal drew from the
Platte.
WALTER
It does. When it can.
A small shrug.
WALTER (CONT’D)
Right now, the river’s too low.
A beat.
WALTER (CONT’D)
What does this have to do with your
investigation?
Matt leans forward.
MATT
The canal’s become a corridor. No
water. No witnesses.
Walter listens. Neutral.
MATT (CONT’D)
Whatever’s killing pets --
Whatever’s breaking into homes --
He lets it land.
MATT (CONT’D)
It’s using the canal to move
unseen.
Walter folds his hands.
A flicker. Walter’s smile thins -- barely.
WALTER
Once we get sufficient rainfall,
the canal will flow again, and
there’ll be no need to open the
Platte headgate.
A pause.
WALTER (CONT’D)
Until then -- nature adapts.
Matt absorbs that.
Then --
His PHONE BUZZES.
He glances down.
OFFICER LEMON (V.O.)
Matt... we’ve got a situation.
Matt straightens.
MATT
Where?
OFFICER LEMON (V.O.)
Jogger went missing off the canal
trail near Dayton.
Looks like a mountain lion attack.
Matt closes his eyes.
OFFICER LEMON (V.O.)
But we haven’t found the body.
Matt stands.
MATT
I’m on my way.
He ends the call.
Walter watches him now -- interested.
WALTER
Everything alright?
MATT
Someone just vanished from the High
Line rec trail.
Walter doesn’t rise.
WALTER
I’m sorry to hear that.
Matt reaches the door.
Stops. Turns back.
MATT
It doesn’t just fill space. It
changes behavior.
A beat.
Walter says nothing.
Matt exits.
Walter sits alone in the glass office, mountains watching
through the windows.
The untouched glass of water sweats onto the desk.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Silent Clues
EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL TRAIL – DAY
Blue sky. Clean light.
A day meant for joggers.
There are none.
Police tape flutters between cottonwoods -- obscene against
the calm.
A few squad cars sit off the trail. Engines cold. Lights
dark.
Matt’s truck rolls up.
He steps out.
Doesn’t rush.
He ducks under the tape.
Ahead, Officer Lemon stands with two UNIFORMS.
No one speaks.
Matt follows their gaze.
The trail bends -- where the canal slips into brush and
shadow.
Matt walks.
Stops.
At the trail’s edge --
A RUNNING SHOE.
Blood-darkened. Twisted wrong.
Matt crouches.
Doesn’t touch.
No drag marks.
No struggle.
Just absence -- as if the runner stepped off the world.
Matt straightens.
Looks down into the canal.
Dry. Cracked.
At the base --
TRACKS.
Large. Clean.
Mountain lion.
They parallel the trail...
then angle inward.
Halfway down the canal --
A glint.
Matt climbs down.
Kneels.
An EARBUD.
He looks up.
The canal curves ahead -- blind.
Perfect cover.
Beyond it, the corridor runs uninterrupted beneath the town.
Matt stands alone in the trench.
He looks back.
Officer Lemon watches -- pale, waiting.
Matt climbs out.
Meets her eyes.
She opens her mouth.
Matt shakes his head.
Not yet.
He moves past her, farther down the trail.
The uniforms exchange looks.
Matt stops again.
There -- where canal meets neighborhood --
A SMEAR OF BLOOD.
Pressed into dirt.
Not dragged.
Placed.
Then lifted.
Matt exhales.
This wasn’t a chase.
This was a pickup.
He turns back to Lemon.
Their eyes lock.
OFFICER LEMON
(quiet)
No body.
MATT
Not here.
Matt looks down the canal -- the empty artery.
Then moves on.
Behind him, the shoe stays.
Genres:
["Mystery","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
The Discovery at the Canal
EXT. CANAL CORRIDOR / BRUSH LINE – DAY
The canal tightens.
Concrete gives way to dirt. Reeds. Neglect.
Matt moves along the edge.
Lemon follows a few steps back.
The air feels heavier.
Matt stops.
Kneels.
Flattened grass.
Pressed, not torn.
A scrape in the dirt.
Dragged.
Matt follows it.
Ten feet ahead -- half-hidden --
A HUMAN HAND.
Palm-up. Still.
Officer Lemon freezes.
The uniforms stop.
Matt approaches.
The jogger lies tucked into the brush.
Intact.
No frenzy.
No scatter.
Just --
Chest collapsed inward.
Neck broken clean.
Efficient.
Matt crouches.
Studies.
Lemon steps closer -- stops.
OFFICER LEMON
Oh my god...
Matt’s eyes drop to the ground.
Tracks again.
Clear.
But wrong.
They don’t circle.
Don’t hesitate.
They point one way.
Matt stands.
Follows them with his eyes.
Away from houses.
Toward open land.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
Where are they coming from?
Matt studies the horizon -- scrubland thinning into something
older.
She waits.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
Matt.
MATT
Not the foothills. Not the
mountains.
He lowers his hand.
MATT (CONT’D)
The Arsenal Wildlife Refuge.
OFFICER LEMON
That’s protected land.
MATT
Exactly.
He looks back at the tracks.
MATT (CONT’D)
Plenty of cover. No people.
A beat.
OFFICER LEMON
So why now?
Matt looks at the dry canal.
MATT
Because we cut off the water.
It lands.
OFFICER LEMON
And they followed it.
Matt nods.
MATT
Water teaches movement.
So does its absence.
He looks back at the jogger.
This doesn’t feel accidental.
It feels intentional.
Wind moves through tall grass.
The tracks continue onward.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Common Ground
INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN ARSENAL FIELD OFFICE – DAY
A modest office dressed up to feel official.
Government-issue furniture. Fluorescent hum. No windows.
RUSS MCCARTHY (50s) sits behind his desk -- thick neck, heavy
hands, posture of someone who’s been told when to use force
and when to wait.
Matt stands across from him. Doesn’t sit yet.
MATT
Appreciate you making the time,
Russ.
Russ studies him. Doesn’t invite him to sit.
RUSS
I heard about the jogger.
A beat.
RUSS (CONT’D)
Cherry Hills isn’t my problem.
Matt glances past Russ -- to the wall.
Navy commendations. Bronze stars. A folded flag.
Matt nods once.
MATT
You Navy?
Russ clocks the look.
RUSS
Three tours.
Matt finally sits.
MATT
Same.
Russ leans back now. Recalculating.
RUSS
Where’d they break you?
MATT
They didn’t.
Russ almost smiles.
Almost.
RUSS
You asking about lions... or about
land?
Matt doesn’t answer.
Russ exhales through his nose.
RUSS (CONT’D)
Get your jacket.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Echoes of Abandonment
INT. RUSS’S TRUCK – DAY
A government pickup held together by habit and paperwork.
It cuts through open prairie -- wind rippling the grass in
long, anxious waves.
Russ, steady hands, drives.
Matt watches the land slide past.
RUSS
You ever been out here?
MATT
Driven past it.
RUSS
Most people do.
(beat)
That’s not an accident.
They pass a rusted structure half-swallowed by weeds.
Matt clocks it.
MATT
Used to be something.
RUSS
Out here? Everything did.
The truck bumps over rough ground.
RUSS (CONT’D)
When the arsenal shut down, they
had options.
Matt glances over.
RUSS (CONT’D)
They chose the cheapest one.
Matt nods. He understands that language.
MATT
My dad used to say they could’ve
ended the world from this place.
Russ keeps his eyes on the road.
RUSS
People don’t build apocalypse sites
to clean them up properly.
A beat.
RUSS (CONT’D)
They build them to walk away.
Ahead -- a military checkpoint.
Russ slows, rolls down the window.
A SOLDIER steps up.
RUSS (CONT’D)
McCarthy. Game Warden.
Matt flashes his badge.
The soldier studies them, then waves them through.
As they pass, Matt notices the fencing beyond --
Old. New. Then old again.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Silent Prairie, Hidden Dangers
EXT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN ARSENAL – DAY
Endless shortgrass prairie.
No birds.
No insects.
Just wind.
RUSS
Ten thousand acres.
Matt takes it in.
MATT
Doesn’t feel alive.
RUSS
It’s not dead either.
They pass a distant basin -- water pooled behind fencing,
surface wrong somehow.
Not reflecting the sky.
Matt notices.
MATT
That still restricted?
RUSS
Some things don’t like being tested
twice.
Matt lets that sit.
MATT
Denver Water says the groundwater’s
clean.
Russ snorts.
RUSS
Denver Water says what keeps
markets calm.
He taps the dash.
RUSS (CONT’D)
Independent tests take years.
MATT
And until then?
Russ glances at him.
RUSS
Until then, animals adapt faster
than policy.
The truck slows.
Stops.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Whispers of the Prairie
EXT. PRAIRIE – CONTINUOUS
Nothing but grass in every direction.
Too quiet.
Matt listens.
No birds.
No movement.
MATT
I don’t see anything.
Russ nods.
RUSS
That’s the part that should bother
you.
Matt scans the horizon.
MATT
Where’d it all go?
Russ crouches, runs dirt through his fingers.
Lets it sift away.
Russ stands.
RUSS
Toward food. Water... people.
MATT
And predators followed.
RUSS
They always do.
Matt looks back toward the truck.
MATT
So why shut off the canal?
Russ doesn’t answer right away.
He studies the land -- measuring, weighing.
RUSS
Water makes land expensive.
Matt turns to him.
RUSS (CONT’D)
No water? Values drop.
Fast.
That clicks.
MATT
Someone buying?
Russ nods.
RUSS
Tracking it for six months.
Matt waits.
RUSS (CONT’D)
One buyer keeps showing up.
Adjacent parcels. Same pattern.
Always near the dry canal.
A beat.
MATT
Who?
Russ meets his eyes.
RUSS
Glover Thompson.
The name hangs in the air.
Matt absorbs it.
Near his boot, something glints.
He bends -- picks up a penny, half-buried.
MATT
Lucky.
Russ watches him.
RUSS
Depends who’s flipping it.
Matt wipes the coin clean.
MATT
Nineteen forty-two.
Russ nods.
RUSS
First year they started burying
things out here they didn’t want to
explain.
Matt flips the penny.
It lands in the dirt.
Doesn’t shine.
MATT
Appreciate the tour.
Russ turns back toward the truck.
RUSS
If you’re hunting lions --
Matt looks at him.
RUSS (CONT’D)
-- follow the water.
Matt nods.
They head back.
Behind them, the prairie rolls on -- empty, watchful,
patient.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Confrontation in the Mayor's Office
INT. MAYOR’S OFFICE – DAY
A corner office high above Cherry Hills.
Glass walls. Mountain views arranged like proof of
responsibility.
Mayor Reynolds stands near the window with Glover Thompson --
trim, relaxed, already at home here.
Glover gestures toward the view.
GLOVER
People don’t move here for square
footage.
They move for the illusion of space.
The Mayor smiles thinly.
A KNOCK --
The door opens.
Matt steps in.
No apology. No hesitation.
The temperature drops.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Officer --
MATT
We need to shut down the canal.
Glover turns, curious. Measuring.
GLOVER
Am I interrupting?
Matt doesn’t look at him.
MATT
Yes.
The Mayor clears his throat.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Officer Mitchell, this is --
MATT
Glover Thompson.
Matt finally meets Glover’s eyes.
A flicker of recognition.
MATT (CONT’D)
Your charity gala’s Friday.
Glover smiles, practiced.
GLOVER
You’ll forgive me if I don’t see
the connection.
Matt steps in farther.
Closes the door.
The click lands loud.
MATT
We recovered the jogger.
Silence.
The Mayor stiffens.
Glover doesn’t.
GLOVER
That’s awful.
A beat.
GLOVER (CONT’D)
Wildlife?
MATT
Mountain lion.
The Mayor exhales.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Matt --
MATT
It carried her four blocks through
the canal.
Glover’s eyes sharpen -- barely.
MATT (CONT’D)
No chase. No drag marks. It used
the corridor.
The Mayor looks to Glover.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Glover --
Glover lifts a hand.
GLOVER
Let him finish.
Matt doesn’t break eye contact.
MATT
Rocky Flats is empty.
No water. No prey.
He steps closer.
MATT (CONT’D)
Everything moved downhill. Into
neighborhoods.
Glover nods slowly -- confirming, not learning.
GLOVER
That land’s been unstable for
years.
Matt clocks the phrasing.
MATT
Interesting word choice.
The Mayor shifts.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
This isn’t the forum --
MATT
I’m asking you to close the canal.
Today.
No threat. Just fact.
MATT (CONT’D)
And hold a press conference.
The Mayor blinks.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
A what?
MATT
You tell people the truth. Why it’s
dangerous.
Glover steps in smoothly.
GLOVER
With respect -- panic spreads
faster than facts.
Matt turns on him.
MATT
So do predators.
A beat.
Glover doesn’t flinch.
GLOVER
The canal’s an amenity.
It’s part of the town’s value.
Matt nods.
MATT
Exactly.
The Mayor rubs his temples.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
If I close it, property values drop
overnight.
Matt holds his gaze.
MATT
Or you wait until a kid disappears.
Silence.
Glover watches the Mayor -- patient.
GLOVER
Tom... we can manage this quietly.
Matt snaps to him.
MATT
Quiet is how it learned where we
don’t look.
Glover’s smile tightens -- just enough.
GLOVER
Officer Lockwood, I’ve invested
heavily in this community.
Matt steps closer. Invades space.
MATT
Then invest in closing the canal.
The Mayor looks between them -- trapped.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
We’ll add patrols. Lighting.
Signage.
Matt shakes his head.
MATT
You’re teaching it where to hunt.
A flicker in Glover’s eyes.
Matt sees it.
MATT (CONT’D)
You already know that.
Glover meets his stare.
GLOVER
I’m waiting for solutions.
Matt turns to the Mayor.
MATT
Close it. Or the next press
conference won’t be yours.
The Mayor swallows.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
I can’t.
Matt nods. Accepts it.
Heads for the door.
Stops.
Turns back.
MATT
When it happens again --
He looks at both men.
MATT (CONT’D)
-- don’t call it an accident.
Matt exits.
The door shuts.
Silence.
Glover exhales -- relaxed again.
GLOVER
He’s not wrong.
The Mayor stares at him.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Then why --
Glover turns back to the window.
To the land.
GLOVER
Because pressure is useful.
Pressure doesn’t ruin land.
(beat)
It makes it negotiable.
The canal runs unseen below.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
The Vanishing
EXT. CITY DOG PARK – DUSK
Golden light bleeds out of the sky.
A fenced DOG PARK hums with end-of-day routine -- leashes
unclipped, owners half-watching phones while dogs sprint and
circle.
Normal. Familiar. Safe.
Beyond the fence, the HIGH LINE CANAL runs lower than the
park -- dry, quiet, hidden by reeds and cottonwoods.
A RULES SIGN near the gate:
“LEASH YOUR DOGS AT ALL TIMES.
NO TRESPASSING BEYOND FENCE.”
A WOMAN (40s) kneels, unclipping her RETRIEVER’S leash.
The dog bolts joyfully into the open space.
Nearby, a TEEN GIRL throws a tennis ball.
A MAN refills a bowl at the spigot.
Laughter. Barking. Easy chaos.
The retriever skids to a stop near the far fence -- nose
twitching.
Sniffs.
The woman whistles.
WOMAN
Buddy!
The dog doesn’t respond.
He moves closer to the fence line where weeds press through
chain-link -- the boundary blurring into wild growth.
The canal below is unseen from here.
The retriever’s tail slows.
Ears lift.
A LOW RUMBLE passes through the ground -- so faint no one
hears it.
The dogs go quiet.
One by one.
Owners don’t notice at first.
The retriever presses his nose to the fence.
Sniffs again.
Then --
The fence RATTLES once.
Not violently.
Like something brushed past it.
The retriever steps back.
Confused.
Behind the fence -- tall reeds sway, though there’s no wind.
A woman LAUGHS at something on her phone.
The retriever barks once.
Sharp. Alarmed.
The woman looks up.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Buddy?
The dog darts back toward the fence.
Then --
A sudden SNAP of metal.
The chain-link flexes inward for a split second.
The retriever disappears downward, out of sight.
Not yanked.
Not dragged.
Just... gone.
The fence settles back into place.
A leash clinks against the ground.
Silence spreads -- uneven, uncertain.
The woman stares at the empty patch of dirt.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Buddy?
She jogs over.
Peers through the fence.
Only weeds. Shadow. Dry earth sloping away.
No blood.
No sound.
Just the canal corridor below, curving out of sight.
Another dog whines.
The woman grabs the fence, shakes it.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Hey -- hey!
Someone looks up now.
A man approaches.
MAN
What’s wrong?
She can’t answer.
She’s staring at the leash on the ground.
Still warm from her hand.
Below the park --
Something moves through reeds.
Unseen.
Efficient.
The other dogs begin barking all at once -- panicked,
directionless.
Owners scramble.
Leashes snap back on.
Phones come out.
The woman sinks to her knees.
The park, moments ago full of motion, empties in seconds.
From above, the dog park looks intact.
Order restored.
Below it --
The canal continues on.
Dry.
Quiet.
Uninterrupted.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Whispers in the Dark
INT. BAR – NIGHT
Low ceiling. Old wood.
Neon beer signs that hum more than glow.
A place built for men who don’t talk about work.
Half-full -- construction boots, sunburnt faces, laughter
that dies fast.
Matt sits in a corner booth. Jacket beside him.
A beer untouched.
Across from him, Officer Lemon -- uniform jacket off, sleeves
rolled.
A whiskey. One clink of ice. Then still.
A beat.
OFFICER LEMON
You okay?
Matt considers lying. Doesn’t.
MATT
I’m deciding which part I’m allowed
to say out loud.
She studies him. Calm. Curious.
OFFICER LEMON
Start with what you think I already
know.
Matt exhales.
MATT
The lion didn’t wander in.
She nods.
OFFICER LEMON
That was my first thought too.
Matt looks up.
MATT
Then you saw the footage?
OFFICER LEMON
I saw the shoe.
(beat)
How it was placed.
She takes a sip.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
Predators don’t leave punctuation.
Matt tightens his jaw. Respect.
MATT
It used the canal like a spine.
Lemon leans back.
OFFICER LEMON
And the robberies?
Matt weighs it.
MATT
Same rules.
She waits.
MATT (CONT’D)
No water. No witnesses.
Straight lines. Clean exits.
Her eyes sharpen.
OFFICER LEMON
You’re saying the lion didn’t
figure that out alone.
MATT
I’m saying pressure teaches
efficiency.
He finally takes a drink. Small.
MATT (CONT’D)
We drained the canal. Stripped the
refuge. Lit up the neighborhoods
and called it safety.
She absorbs that.
OFFICER LEMON
And everything that didn’t belong --
MATT
-- adapted.
A beat.
The bar swells -- a pool break cracks sharp.
Officer Lemon sets her glass down.
OFFICER LEMON
So what’s your theory?
Matt leans in. Lowers his voice.
MATT
The lion isn’t hunting.
She frowns.
OFFICER LEMON
It killed a jogger.
MATT
It tested a boundary.
She doesn’t like that.
OFFICER LEMON
That sounds like wordplay.
MATT
A hunt is messy. This was
transport.
She stills.
OFFICER LEMON
Transport where?
Matt looks past her -- dark glass, road beyond.
MATT
Away from where it started. Toward
where it could move unseen.
Her jaw tightens.
OFFICER LEMON
You think it’s being used.
Matt pauses.
MATT
I think it’s being tolerated.
That lands harder.
She leans back, crosses her arms.
OFFICER LEMON
By who?
MATT
Anyone who benefits from pressure.
Silence stretches.
OFFICER LEMON
That’s a serious accusation.
MATT
So is calling a body an accident.
She exhales slowly.
OFFICER LEMON
You told the chief?
MATT
Not yet.
OFFICER LEMON
Why me?
This one costs him.
MATT
Because when you found her --
(beat)
-- you didn’t ask what did it.
You asked where it came from.
She absorbs that.
Lifts her glass. Doesn’t drink.
OFFICER LEMON
If you’re wrong, this ends you.
MATT
I know.
OFFICER LEMON
And if you’re right?
Matt’s voice drops.
MATT
Then someone already decided what
they’re willing to lose.
She studies him -- the fatigue, the certainty.
OFFICER LEMON
What do you need?
No hesitation.
MATT
Time.
She almost laughs.
OFFICER LEMON
That’s the one thing nobody gives.
Matt stands, grabs his jacket.
MATT
Then we take it.
She watches him go.
Slides out of the booth.
OFFICER LEMON
I’m off shift at two.
Matt nods once.
MATT
Don’t walk the canal.
A look.
OFFICER LEMON
I won’t.
As he reaches the door --
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
Matt.
He stops.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
If this thing’s learning us --
Matt doesn’t turn.
MATT
Then it stops being patient.
He exits.
Lemon sits alone.
The neon flickers.
The bar hums on -- unaware.
Genres:
["Crime","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Night of Shadows
EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL – NIGHT
Moonless.
No ambient city glow here — just darkness layered on
darkness.
A CHAIN-LINK SERVICE GATE rattles softly.
A pair of gloved hands slip through the fence, unlatch it
from the inside.
The gate opens just wide enough.
Two MEN emerge from the shadows:
ROBBER #1 (30s) -- lean, alert, carrying a compact duffel.
ROBBER #2 (40s) -- heavier, cautious, scanning constantly.
They move with familiarity. Not rushed. Not sloppy.
This isn’t their first time.
They step down into the DRY CANAL BED.
Concrete absorbs their footsteps -- dull, swallowed.
Robber #2 clicks on a SMALL FLASHLIGHT, keeps it angled low.
A narrow cone of light slides across cracked concrete.
ROBBER #2
(quiet)
You sure the alarms are dead?
Robber #1 checks his watch.
ROBBER #1
Two minutes. Same as last time.
They move.
The canal stretches ahead — a long, straight artery vanishing
into black.
Too straight.
Too quiet.
They pass a storm drain outlet — metal grate rusted, bent
outward.
Robber #2 pauses.
ROBBER #2
You hear that?
They stop.
Listen.
Nothing.
Just the distant, muffled hum of traffic far above -- life
continuing, oblivious.
Robber #1 exhales.
ROBBER #1
Wind in the brush.
They continue.
The flashlight beam catches something ahead.
A DARK SHAPE near the canal wall.
Robber #2 slows.
ROBBER #2
What’s that?
Robber #1 raises a hand.
They approach cautiously.
The light settles.
It’s a SINGLE RUNNING SHOE.
Blood-darkened.
The laces still tied.
Neither man speaks.
The canal seems to hold its breath.
Robber #2 swallows.
ROBBER #2 (CONT’D)
That wasn’t here last week.
Robber #1 scans the walls, the brush above, the shadows
between concrete seams.
ROBBER #1
Someone ditched it.
But he doesn’t believe that.
They move again -- faster now, tension coiling.
Up ahead, the canal curves slightly -- brush thickens where
concrete gives way to dirt.
The flashlight flickers across TRACKS.
Large.
Round.
Pressed deep despite the dry surface.
Robber #2 stops dead.
ROBBER #2
Those aren’t dogs.
Robber #1 kneels, studies them.
Doesn’t need long.
ROBBER #1
Mountain lion.
A beat.
They exchange a look -- not panic, but calculation.
Robber #2 starts backing up.
ROBBER #2
We pull out. Now.
A SOUND.
Not loud.
Not sudden.
A LOW, RESONANT GROWL rolls through the canal -- felt more
than heard.
It comes from ahead.
From the bend.
The flashlight beam trembles.
Robber #1 raises his hand -- freezes him.
The growl stops.
Silence slams back into place.
ROBBER #2 (CONT’D)
(whispers)
You hear that breathing?
They listen.
A faint EXHALE -- slow, controlled.
Not hiding.
Waiting.
Robber #1 slowly clicks the flashlight off.
Darkness swallows everything.
They stand motionless, blind.
Another sound --
A SOFT SCRAPE of claw against concrete.
Closer now.
Robber #2’s voice cracks.
ROBBER #2 (CONT’D)
It knows we’re here.
A SHADOW shifts at the far end of the canal -- barely a
distortion against deeper black.
A glint.
RED EYES.
Not charging.
Not retreating.
Assessing.
The lion steps forward just enough for moonlight to catch its
outline --
Massive.
Scarred.
Muscle rolling beneath its coat.
The men don’t move.
They don’t run.
They don’t reach for weapons.
They understand instinctively:
Running would invite the math.
The lion tilts its head.
Sniffs.
Human scent.
Oil.
Metal.
Fear.
Then --
Something else draws its attention.
A sound from above — a distant car door slam. Voices.
Laughter.
The lion’s ears twitch.
Its body shifts -- tension redirecting.
The shadow turns sideways.
One last look at the men.
Not a threat.
A calculation.
Then the lion melts into the brush -- silent, deliberate --
disappearing up the canal wall where darkness thickens.
Gone.
The canal exhales.
Robber #2 collapses to his knees.
ROBBER #2 (CONT’D)
Jesus Christ...
Robber #1 doesn’t relax.
He stares at where the lion vanished.
ROBBER #1
We’re done.
ROBBER #2
With tonight?
Robber #1 shakes his head.
ROBBER #1
With this place.
They don’t notice -- behind them --
Fresh BOOT PRINTS appear beside the lion’s tracks.
Someone else has already been here.
Watching.
Genres:
["Thriller","Crime","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
A Night of Silence
INT. MITCHELL HOUSE – NIGHT
The front door OPENS.
Matt steps inside.
Something’s wrong immediately.
No lights on.
No television murmur.
No Bruce humming to himself in the kitchen.
No Sean’s music bleeding through headphones.
Just silence.
Matt freezes in the doorway, listening.
Nothing.
He closes the door slowly behind him.
The house feels larger than it should.
Matt moves down the hallway, boots soft on wood.
KITCHEN
Empty.
The overhead light is off — but the counter lamp is on, left
burning.
Matt clocks that.
A PIZZA BOX still sits on the counter from earlier. Cold now.
Untouched.
Matt sets his keys down.
MATT
Sean?
No answer.
He crosses into the LIVING ROOM.
The couch cushions are disturbed -- recently used.
Bruce’s blanket lies folded too neatly at the end of the
couch.
Matt stops.
On the coffee table:
A NOTE.
Folded once. Plain printer paper. Rushed.
Matt picks it up.
Unfolds.
We don’t see the words yet -- just Matt’s face as he reads.
It drains.
Not panic.
Something colder.
He reads it again.
Then we see it:
“MATT - SEAN HAD A PANIC ATTACK. WE’RE AT ST. ANTHONY’S. I
DIDN’T WANT TO WAIT. - DAD”
Matt’s jaw tightens.
MATT (CONT’D)
...shit.
He looks toward the hallway.
Sean’s bedroom door is ajar.
Matt moves fast now.
INT. SEAN’S BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS
The room is empty.
Bed unmade.
Hoodie gone.
Bike helmet missing.
Matt spots something on the desk:
Sean’s PHONE.
Left behind.
Matt grabs it -- exhales sharply.
Too late.
INT. MITCHELL HOUSE – HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
Matt is already moving.
He shoves his feet into boots, grabs his jacket, and snatches
his keys off the counter.
He pauses.
Looks out the kitchen window.
The canal lies beyond the yard -- black, empty, patient.
Matt’s eyes harden.
EXT. MITCHELL HOUSE – NIGHT
The front door SLAMS open.
Matt strides to his truck, unlocking it mid-step.
He throws himself into the driver’s seat.
The engine ROARS to life.
As he peels out of the driveway, the porch light flicks off
behind him -- plunging the house back into darkness.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Anxiety in the Night
INT. HOSPITAL WAITING AREA – NIGHT
Fluorescent light. Too bright. Too clean.
Matt pushes through sliding glass doors, breath still uneven
from the drive.
The place hums with quiet crisis -- distant monitors,
murmured voices, a crying baby down the hall.
Matt scans.
Then spots them.
Sean sits rigid in a plastic chair, knees bouncing, hoodie
pulled tight around him like armor.
Beside him, Bruce sits stiff-backed, hands folded in his lap,
eyes locked on nothing.
Matt closes the distance fast.
MATT
Sean.
Sean looks up.
Relief flashes -- then collapses into something shakier.
SEAN
Dad.
Matt crouches in front of him immediately, hands on Sean’s
knees.
MATT
What happened?
Sean opens his mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Bruce clears his throat.
BRUCE
He couldn’t breathe.
Matt looks to Bruce.
MATT
What?
BRUCE
He said his chest hurt. Said the
room was closing in.
Sean nods, embarrassed.
SEAN
I thought I was dying.
Matt swallows -- keeps his voice steady.
MATT
You weren’t.
Sean nods again, not convinced.
A NURSE appears, clipboard tucked under her arm.
NURSE
Sean Mitchell?
Matt stands.
MATT
I’m his father.
She gives him a practiced look -- calm, reassuring.
NURSE
Vitals are stable. No cardiac
issues.
Looks like an acute anxiety episode.
Sean winces at the word.
SEAN
I’m not crazy.
The nurse softens.
NURSE
I didn’t say that.
She glances at Bruce.
NURSE (CONT’D)
We’ll give you a minute.
She steps away.
Matt sits beside Sean now.
MATT
Talk to me.
Sean shakes his head.
SEAN
I didn’t want Grandpa to freak out.
Bruce bristles slightly.
BRUCE
I didn’t freak out.
Sean looks at him.
SEAN
You tried to call Mom.
Bruce pauses.
BRUCE
...That might be true.
Matt exhales.
MATT
Sean. What set it off?
Sean hesitates.
Then --
SEAN
I went back to the canal.
Matt’s stomach drops.
MATT
You promised --
SEAN
I didn’t ride it.
He rushes the words.
SEAN (CONT’D)
I stayed on the street. I just... I
wanted to see.
Matt closes his eyes for a beat.
MATT
See what?
Sean’s voice lowers.
SEAN
If you were right.
Matt opens his eyes.
Sean leans in.
SEAN (CONT’D)
There were people down there.
Matt stiffens.
MATT
People?
Sean nods.
SEAN
Not jogging. Not walking.
They had bags. Flashlights.
They were moving fast.
Matt doesn’t interrupt.
SEAN (CONT’D)
I followed them from the street.
Just for a second.
Bruce shifts, uneasy.
BRUCE
Sean --
SEAN
Then it got quiet.
Matt’s jaw tightens.
SEAN (CONT’D)
Like everything stopped at once.
Sean swallows.
SEAN (CONT’D)
And I heard it.
Matt keeps his voice neutral.
MATT
Heard what?
Sean meets his eyes.
SEAN
Breathing. Growling.
Matt’s pulse kicks.
SEAN (CONT’D)
Not close. Not far.
(beat)
Like it was deciding.
Bruce’s hand trembles in his lap.
Both Matt and Sean turn.
Bruce stares at the floor now.
BRUCE
Reminds me of the time you had an
encounter.
Matt freezes.
MATT
Dad.
Bruce looks up -- suddenly clear.
Silence presses in.
Sean’s voice cracks.
SEAN
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream.
Matt grips his shoulder.
MATT
But it didn’t come after you.
Sean shakes his head.
SEAN
No.
A beat.
SEAN (CONT’D)
It went the other way.
Matt processes this.
MATT
Toward the houses?
Sean nods.
SEAN
Like it already knew where people
were.
That’s when Sean’s breath starts to hitch again -- fast,
shallow.
Matt immediately grounds him.
MATT
Hey. Look at me.
Sean locks onto Matt.
MATT (CONT’D)
You’re safe. You did the right
thing.
Sean shakes his head.
SEAN
No, I didn’t.
Matt frowns.
SEAN (CONT’D)
I recorded it.
Matt stills.
MATT
Recorded what?
Sean reaches into his hoodie pocket.
Pulls out a small ACTION CAMERA -- scuffed, shaking in his
hand.
SEAN
I thought if I had proof... you’d
make them listen.
Matt stares at the camera.
Bruce looks at it too -- fear and recognition mixing.
BRUCE
Some things don’t like being seen.
Matt slowly takes the camera from Sean.
Feels its weight.
MATT
This stays between us. For now.
Sean nods, exhausted.
A DOCTOR approaches.
DOCTOR
We’re going to keep him for
observation. Just to be safe.
Matt nods.
MATT
Thank you.
The doctor moves on.
Matt looks at Sean -- really looks at him.
Not a kid anymore.
MATT (CONT’D)
You didn’t imagine it.
Sean’s eyes well.
SEAN
I know.
Matt stands.
MATT
Get some rest.
He turns to Bruce.
MATT (CONT’D)
Stay with him.
Bruce nods -- solid, present.
Matt steps back, slipping the camera into his jacket.
As he walks toward the exit, he passes a hospital window.
Outside --
City lights glow.
Traffic flows.
Life moves on.
EXT. HOSPITAL – PARKING LOT – NIGHT
The automatic doors slide shut behind Matt.
The hospital looms -- fluorescent, indifferent.
Matt stands still for a beat, breathing in cold air like he’s
resurfacing.
He looks down at his hands.
Still shaking.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Silent Resolve
EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL – HEADGATE FACILITY – NIGHT
The headgate rises out of darkness --
a blunt concrete mass stitched with rusted steel.
Industrial.
Forgotten.
Still humming faintly, like something not fully asleep.
Floodlights cut hard geometry across railings and warning
placards:
“AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
DANGER: CONTROLLED FLOW.”
Below, the canal lies bone-dry.
No wind.
No water.
A LONE PICKUP rolls in and stops.
The engine clicks as it cools.
Matt steps out.
He stands there for a moment — listening.
Measuring.
Nothing moves.
He opens the truck bed.
Inside: a DUFFEL -- compact charges, wire, detonator.
Clean. Purpose-built.
Matt shoulders it.
Starts toward the headgate.
Each step deliberate.
This isn’t urgency.
It’s commitment.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
Blood Oath at the Headgate
EXT. HEADGATE – CONTINUOUS
The ground here is trampled dirt and oil-stained gravel.
Boot prints. Old tire tracks. Years of maintenance layered
over neglect.
Matt slows.
He scans the darkness beyond the lights — where cottonwoods
close in, roots gripping the canal walls.
He sets the duffel down.
Unzips it.
Not the explosives.
Something else.
Matt steps off the lit concrete, into shadow.
A private moment.
He unzips his fly.
Relieves himself onto the dry canal wall -- matter-of-fact,
unceremonious.
Steam curls briefly in the cold air.
He zips up. Doesn’t look back.
Then --
He reaches into his pocket.
A small UTILITY KNIFE.
He opens it.
Studies his palm.
This is the moment he could stop.
He doesn’t.
Matt presses the blade in -- shallow, controlled.
A sharp breath escapes him.
Blood wells.
Dark against pale skin.
He closes his fist -- opens it again.
Then drags his palm along the concrete edge.
Along rusted metal.
Along the gate’s scarred surface.
Leaving smeared, uneven marks.
Not ritual.
Signal.
He wipes his hand on his jeans.
Wraps it tight with a strip torn from his sleeve.
Only then does he lift the duffel again.
Moves back into the light.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
The Reckoning at the Headgate
EXT. HEADGATE PLATFORM – CONTINUOUS
Matt kneels beside the concrete housing.
Unzips the bag.
Now the explosives.
He works calmly -- practiced, exact.
Each motion economical.
Wire.
Charge.
Set.
The faint HUM of the structure vibrates through his hands.
Then --
A SOUND.
CLAP.
Slow.
Measured.
Another.
CLAP.
Mocking.
Matt freezes.
Doesn’t look up yet.
The applause stops.
Footsteps enter the light.
One set.
Then another.
Then a third.
Three silhouettes resolve from shadow.
MAYOR REYNOLDS.
Tense. Uncomfortable here.
MARTIN GLOVER.
Relaxed. Almost pleased.
WALTER DENT.
Watching everything.
Glover’s eyes flick briefly to Matt’s wrapped hand.
To the dark smears on the concrete.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
GLOVER
You’re early.
Matt finally stands.
Doesn’t bother hiding the detonator in his hand.
MATT
You’re late.
The canal yawns behind them -- dry, open, waiting.
Somewhere beyond the lights --
Something shifts.
Unseen.
Listening.
All three stand above him on the platform.
Unarmed.
Smiling like men who believe they already won.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Matt. This isn’t the way.
Matt rises slowly.
Doesn’t reach for the detonator.
MATT
You followed me.
GLOVER
You weren’t subtle.
Glover gestures to the dry canal below.
GLOVER (CONT’D)
You were always going to end up
here.
Walter studies the explosives with interest -- not fear.
WALTER
You know what that water will do if
you open it too fast?
Matt meets his eyes.
MATT
It’ll remind the land who it
belongs to.
The Mayor sighs -- genuinely tired.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
You blow this gate, you don’t save
anyone. You create chaos.
Matt nods.
MATT
Chaos already happened. You just
kept it quiet.
Glover steps closer.
GLOVER
You think this ends with water?
Matt’s voice is flat.
MATT
I think it ends with truth.
Walter chuckles softly.
WALTER
Truth doesn’t survive pressure.
Matt looks at the canal.
MATT
Neither do lies.
A LOW SOUND carries up from below.
Not loud.
Not sudden.
A GROWL.
The men pause.
Walter frowns.
WALTER
What was that?
Matt doesn’t look away from them.
MATT
That’s the part you didn’t plan
for.
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Measured.
From the darkness of the canal bed below --
A MASSIVE MOUNTAIN LION steps into the spill of light.
Then --
A second.
They move independently.
Not hunting.
Not charging.
Assessing.
Glover stiffens.
Matt finally looks down.
MATT (CONT’D)
You cut off their water. You cut
off their food.
He meets Glover’s eyes.
MATT (CONT’D)
They adapted.
The lions advance.
Walter backs up instinctively.
WALTER
We need to leave. Now.
The Mayor doesn’t move.
Frozen.
The first lion climbs the concrete embankment with terrifying
ease.
Claws scrape.
The sound echoes.
Glover panics.
He RUNS.
The lion launches --
The impact is brutal -- efficient -- devastating.
Glover hits the platform, screaming once before he’s gone --
over the edge.
Silence.
Walter bolts the other direction.
The second lion intercepts.
No roar.
Just precision.
Walter disappears beneath muscle and shadow.
The Mayor collapses backward against the railing.
Alive.
Shaking.
The lions stop.
They look at Matt.
Matt doesn’t move.
Doesn’t raise a weapon.
Doesn’t run.
The lions hold his gaze.
A beat.
Then -- one turns away.
The other follows.
They melt back into darkness.
Gone.
The canal exhales.
The Mayor sobs now.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Oh my god...
Matt steps toward him.
MATT
You still want to manage this?
The Mayor looks up.
Broken.
Matt shakes his head -- turns.
Walks back to the charges.
Begins connecting the detonator.
The Mayor scrambles forward.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Matt -- wait. We can fix this.
We’ll announce closures. We’ll fund
mitigation.
Matt stops.
Looks back.
MATT
You don’t get to fix it after
people die.
The Mayor whispers:
MAYOR REYNOLDS
You’ll go to prison.
Matt nods.
MATT
Maybe.
The canal yawns open beneath him -- a concrete throat, dry
and waiting.
Matt crouches behind the headgate housing.
In his hand:
A DETONATOR.
Thumb resting just short of the switch.
He doesn’t move.
Matt closes his eyes.
FLASHES -- not memories, but impressions:
-- The dog’s body, untouched by hunger.
-- The jogger’s shoe, placed like punctuation.
-- Bruce at the table, saying “something followed the water”.
-- The Mayor’s smile tightening.
-- Glover’s eyes, patient. Waiting.
BACK TO SCENE.
Matt opens his eyes -- not filled with rage, but with
acceptance.
Matt shifts his grip on the detonator.
Centers it in his palm.
He exhales -- slow, controlled.
A beat.
Then Matt presses the switch.
He presses the detonator.
BOOM.
Concrete SHATTERS.
Metal SCREAMS.
The headgate BLOWS OPEN.
Then --
A ROARING WALL OF WATER EXPLODES through the canal.
Violent. Relentless.
Water crashes down the concrete artery, reclaiming space at
terrifying speed.
The Mayor scrambles back as spray slams the platform.
Matt stands firm.
Watching.
The canal fills.
The sound is deafening.
Alive.
Wild.
Uncontrollable.
Matt turns.
Walks away as alarms begin to wail.
Behind him --
The water surges forward, flooding the corridor.
Erasing tracks.
Erasing secrets.
The canal runs again.
EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL – DAWN
Morning light creeps across the canal.
Water rushes through it now — full, loud, alive.
Foam collects at the edges. Debris spins, then disappears.
The concrete scar is softened but not healed.
Police tape flutters uselessly in the breeze.
Fire trucks. Utility crews.
A helicopter thumps overhead.
The canal is no longer invisible.
EXT. HEADGATE FACILITY – DAWN
Matt sits on the tailgate of his truck.
Hands cuffed in front of him.
Mud on his boots.
Water stains up his jeans.
Blood -- not his -- dried along the hem.
He looks calm.
Across from him, the Mayor Reynolds sits wrapped in a
blanket, face gray, eyes hollow.
A PARAMEDIC checks his vitals.
No one speaks to Matt.
They don’t know how.
INT. TEMPORARY COMMAND TENT – MORNING
A folding table. Coffee gone cold.
OFFICER LEMON stands just inside the tent flap.
She watches Matt through the open side — cuffed, patient.
She turns to the STATE INVESTIGATOR.
OFFICER LEMON
He didn’t run.
The investigator flips through notes.
INVESTIGATOR
He destroyed public infrastructure.
Kate holds his gaze.
OFFICER LEMON
He restored it.
That gives the investigator pause.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
Reflections at Dawn
EXT. CANAL BANK – LATER
Matt is escorted toward a waiting vehicle.
Sean stands next to Bruce -- sitting in a folding chair --
near the tape line.
Sean’s eyes lock on Matt.
Matt stops.
The escort hesitates, then allows it.
Matt crouches in front of Sean.
MATT
You okay?
Sean nods.
SEAN
They said the water’s back all the
way to the refuge.
Matt smiles faintly.
MATT
Good.
Sean hesitates.
SEAN
Are they gonna put you in jail?
Matt considers.
MATT
Maybe.
Sean swallows hard.
SEAN
I’m sorry.
Matt shakes his head.
MATT
You saw something real. That’s not
something you apologize for.
Matt approaches Bruce, careful not to rush the moment.
MATT (CONT’D)
It’s moving again.
Bruce doesn’t respond -- then leans forward slightly.
Listening.
That old instinct.
Bruce watches the water with childlike focus. Not confused --
present in a different way.
Bruce shakes his head, faintly amused.
BRUCE
Water doesn’t know what we want.
Only where it’s been.
He looks up at Matt.
Squints.
Not quite recognition.
But close.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
You did the right thing.
Matt swallows.
MATT
I learned it from you.
Bruce smiles -- soft, unburdened.
For the first time, there’s no guilt in it.
BRUCE
No. You learned it because I
didn’t.
A beat.
Bruce turns back to the canal.
The water roars, unstoppable.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
(quiet)
There you are.
Matt freezes.
MATT
Who?
Bruce doesn’t answer.
He’s already somewhere else -- or maybe exactly where he’s
supposed to be.
The sun crests the horizon.
Light spills across the water.
Bruce closes his eyes.
Peaceful.
Matt watches him -- terrified for a moment --
Then realizes:
Bruce is smiling.
Not fading.
Resting.
Matt turns back to the canal.
The water rushes forward -- indifferent, ancient, alive.
Before Matt turns away --
Sean reaches into his pocket.
Hands Matt the ACTION CAMERA.
SEAN
They didn’t ask about this.
Matt looks at it.
Then hands it back.
MATT
Not yet.
A look passes between them.
Truth deferred -- not erased.
Matt allows himself to be led away.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
Silent Defiance
EXT. COURTHOUSE STEPS – DAY (DAYS LATER)
News cameras. Controlled chaos.
A headline scrolls on a phone screen:
“HIGH LINE FLOODING UNDER INVESTIGATION — OFFICIALS DECLINE
COMMENT”
Matt exits the building with his lawyer.
No handcuffs now.
But no smile either.
A REPORTER shouts:
REPORTER
Officer Lockwood -- was it worth
it?
Matt stops.
Turns.
Looks directly into the camera.
MATT
Ask the water.
He walks on.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Nature's Vigil
EXT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN ARSENAL REFUGE – NIGHT
Tall grass bends in the wind.
Water glints in distant channels -- flowing again, imperfect
but present.
Two MOUNTAIN LIONS stand at the edge of a rise.
Watching.
Listening.
They drink.
Then turn away -- deeper into protected land.
Gone.
EXT. CANAL TRAIL – NIGHT
The trail is reopened.
Lights installed.
New signs posted.
“WILDLIFE ACTIVITY — STAY ALERT.”
Joggers pass.
A family bikes slowly.
Everything looks safe.
Far down the canal, where lights don’t reach --
The water moves.
Quietly.
Persistently.
EXT. CANAL – NIGHT
Water rushes through the darkness.
The canal runs unseen again --
But this time, it’s watched.
By animals.
By people.
By something older than both.
FADE OUT.