Coroner... it's a Living

INT. CORONER’S HOME - NIGHT

A young woman is laying on the couch with her feet kicked up
on the arm. There are headphones in her ears, and her feet
bounce to the tingy sounding music we can barely hear. This
is ZOE BELLE, late teens, beautiful, with black hair and
sporting some pajama pants and a tank top.

Somewhere in the house a phone rings. Zoe doesn’t hear it
and continues to fiddle with the cell phone/mp3 player in
her hand. Zoe’s mother yells from off screen.

ZOE’S MOTHER
Somebody get that! 

The phone continues to ring. A man, 50s, slightly overweight
and angry looking, walks into the living room. This is the
town coroner, ED BELLE. He grumbles something and picks up a
cordless phone, but not before the answering machine does
its job.

ED BELLE
Y’ello? 

ED BELLE (ANSWERING MACHINE)
You’ve reached the Belle residence.
We can’t take your call right
now... 

ED BELLE
Damn machine. 

ED BELLE (ANSWERING MACHINE)
... but please let us know who’s
calling and we’ll ring you back- 

He bangs on the machine and it stops.

ED BELLE
Yeah, this is Ed. 

He pauses as he listens to the voice on the other line.

ED BELLE (CONT’D)
Is that right? Well, give me a few
minutes to get dressed and I’ll
head out there. And make sure they
cover it up. 

He hangs up the phone. Zoe watches her father stand by the
end table a moment, then pulls one of the headphones out of
an ear.

ZOE
Somebody die? 

ED BELLE
(beat)
Yeah, darling. Afraid so. 

ZOE
Town coroner... it’s a living. 

Ed laughs and charges toward her.

ED BELLE
Someone thinks she’s a comedian. 

He tickles her and she kicks her feet.

ZOE
No, daddy, no! 

They share a laugh and he sits down by her as they catch
their breath. He runs a hand through her hair.

ED BELLE
Let me know when those jokes start
earning us some money. Then I can
quit and you can pay the mortgage
before people stop dying and I’m
out of a job.
(kisses her on the head and
stand up)
I need to get into town. Don’t stay

up too late. 

Zoe puts the headphone back in her ear and smiles at her
dad.

ZOE
Love you, daddy.

A Ticket and a Tummy Ache

Here's another excerpt from the Script Frenzy screenplay I'm working on. Got up to twenty-one pages today after falling behind. Hope to get a few more down before the witching hour.

This is an excerpt that is actually from something I wrote a few days ago. It kind of stumped me for a while after writing it, because it was forcing me to work out the timing of the outbreak with the appearance of my heroes/main characters. And yes, "Hero" is just a placeholder last name. Pardon our progress!

INT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT

JACK HERO enters the police station. He's 33, short-cropped brown hair, fit, and wearing a couple days worth of stubble. He's sweating a little bit. He's holding a piece of paper in his hand- a ticket- and whirling around like he's lost.

There are less people in here than what we saw earlier in the day.

A uniformed deputy brushes by Jack.

JACK
Excuse me, sir?

The officer ignores him and exits the station.

A receptionist sees Jack looking helpless. This is SHELLY,
mid-40s, too much makeup, wide hips. She raises her arm to
get his attention.

SHELLY
Something I can help you with, hon?

Jack whirls until he sees the receptionist and walks over to
her desk.

JACK
Yes, hi. My truck was towed. I’m
staying out at the Fork Road Inn,
and I apparently parked in a
handicap spot. The lines weren’t
painted and the sign was
vandalized...

SHELLY
They slipped that under the door to
your room?

JACK
Yeah. I was out all day, bike riding.
I guess I just stepped over it when
I left this morning. It was still dark
out. I didn’t even notice my truck
was gone.

SHELLY
You're supposed to go to the towing
company on that slip there and pay
the charge. It’s just across the
street.

JACK
Right, but the guy must have been
at dinner or something. No one’s
there. Booth is empty and the lot’s
all locked up. And I’m not even
sure I should have to pay this.

SHELLY
(leans forward)
You from around her, hon?

JACK
Nah. Just here to ride and hike. My
wife calls it my decompression.

SHELLY
Just pay the hundred dollars,
sweetheart. Dave only takes cash or
a money order. You can get that at
the post office but you’ll have to
wait until morning. You don’t want
to waste your time filing a
complaint. You can appeal for a
reimbursement later by mail.

JACK
I’ve got the cash, but no one’s over
there

SHELLY
Shouldn’t be too long. Dave keeps a
kid over there until midnight, most
of the time. Probably just out.
You’re welcome to wait right here
for a bit if you want. Coffee pot’s
over there.

Jack turns to look and the front door to the station opens
up. A doctor rushes in, a black briefcase in hand. This is
DR. JIM TRAVIS, 50s, no gray in his hair, but it might be a
toupee.

DR. TRAVIS
Where they need me, Shelly?

SHELLY
(to the doctor)
Holding cell, Dr. Travis. Rash gave
the guy a nasty fever.

The doctor nods a thank you and moves quickly to a door.
Shelly hits a button on the wall by her desk and the
red light over the door turns green. The doctor enters and
disappears.

JACK
Something wrong?

SHELLY
Nothing for you to worry about,
hon. Some guy up on a murder charge
has a tummy ache.

Let Them Come

The following scene was actually adapted from a story I wrote for a writers group I'm in. When I wrote it in March, I really had no intention of using it in my script. But once Zoe made an appearance in the "Running to Stand Still" sequence, well, it just sort of happened.

***

INT. FARMHOUSE SHED - NIGHT

Jack closes the door behind him. It CREAKS again. He turns
and sniffs the air, looking around. We go where the beam of
his flashlight goes, and we hear is breathing- labored but
he tries to keep it quiet.

The floor of the shed is wooden, but covered with a layer of
dirt. Tools and yard equipment are covered with a thick
layer of sawdust. A ceiling fan above.

Jack visibly relaxes, twirling the machete in his hand.
Then, there is a SHUFFLING sound and he stiffens. He whirls.
He tucks the machete into its sleeve and pulls the shotgun
over his shoulder in one fluid motion. The beam finds a
hunched figure in the corner of the shed.

But this is no zombie. This one is living. ZOE BELLE, late
teens, beautiful, but clearly rattled and looks a mess. Her
blond hair is matted. She sits with her knees tucked into
her chest. There is blood on her face and neck from a cut on
her eyebrow. Trails of recent tears make lines on her dirty
cheeks.

ZOE
We were supposed to go to Disney
World. Summer vacation. Just the
family, before I left for school.
Now...

Jack lowers his gun and steps forward.

ZOE (CONT’D)
Now they’re dead. They’re all dead.

Jack slides the shotgun back over his shoulder and kneels in
front of Zoe. He looks her over and notices she’s holding a
kitchen knife in her hand. It moves back and forth against
her leg, where it has cut a hole in her jeans and and sliced
her skin open.

JACK
What’s your name?

ZOE
Dead, they’re-

JACK
(interrupting)
Hey! Look, you can’t do anything
about that now. Tell me your name.

ZOE
Zoe.

JACK
Are there any more-

ZOE
(interrupting, angry)
Zombies?

The knife moves faster against Zoe’s leg. Jack reaches
toward her and she stiffens.

JACK
You’re not doing yourself any
favors. Open wound just makes it
easier for you to get infected.

The knife stops moving.

JACK (CONT’D)
What happened to your family?

ZOE
Attacked, turned, and now... all
dead.

JACK
You...

ZOE
I killed them.

A tight look at Zoe’s face. Her eyes are cold, her features
hardened. Her features soften as she continues.

ZOE (CONT’D)
I did the right thing, didn’t I?

Zack lays the flashlight on the ground, angled to light the
space in between them.

JACK
Absolutely. No other way. If you
hadn’t, you’d have suffered the
same fate.

Zoe begins crying and drops the knife. Jack hesitates, then
slides to her side. He tosses the knife away and puts his
arm around her. She leans into his shoulder and cries
harder. They are quiet for a time. Only the sound of her
sobbing and the wind blowing a wind chime.

JACK
I always liked the pirates ride.
Yo-ho, yo-ho. The fog, the sounds
of the storm, that one crazy drop
into darkness. The cannons firing
and splashing up the water.

ZOE
Peter Pan. I used to beg my parents
to ride that over and over. Flying
high above the city. London, I
think. I read a book about how they
built the models so they triggered
your perceptions just right.

JACK
Lord, to be seventeen forever.

ZOE
(pulling away)
What?

JACK
It’s a song, but you know, Peter
Pan complex. Not wanting to grow up
and all.

ZOE
How old are you?

JACK
Thirty-three.

ZOE
Where are you from?

JACK
Georgia. Atlanta.

ZOE
(looking worried)
Are they there too?

JACK
Don’t know. I’m on vacation.

The room dims as the flashlight loses its charge. Zoe gives
a worried look.

JACK (CONT’D)
It’s OK. Plenty of batteries.

The white light turns yellow and then fades out. Darkness.
Then there is a strange sound. Something DRAGGING ACROSS
DIRT. Zoe BREATHES IN sharply. Jack gets to work replacing
the batteries in the flashlight.

The sound gets louder, closer. The wind outside picks up.
Tree limbs CREAK. Jack flicks on the flashlight.

JACK
You may want to...

He turns to Zoe and sees she’s already standing, the kitchen
knife in one hand, and a silver handgun we haven’t seen
before in the other.

ZOE
(coldly)
Let them come. I’m ready.

Running to Stand Still

Note: I tend to write out of order- way out of order- especially when I'm flying by the seat of my pants. The script snippets here are more to entice than to chronologically entertain. The scene below is the latter portion of a sequence I wrote that will play out to the soundtrack of U2's "Running to Stand Still." It's a bit of an unconventional read with the lyrics thrown in as a guide.

***

EXT. STREETS - NIGHT

By the time the second chorus is over, current Zoe is
through the back door and running down an alley, the pouring
rain soaking her, rifle in hand. "She runs through the
streets, with her eyes painted red, under black belly of
cloud in the rain."

She stops when she sees five zombies at the end of the
alley. They don’t see her. She starts to back up but her
crowbar slips and CLANGS on the ground, and the sound alerts
them of her presence.

ZOE
No, no, no!

She grabs the crowbar and runs in the opposite direction.
She heads toward the back door of a jewelry store. She pries
the door open and immediately a zombie woman wearing pearls
lurches at her from inside. "In through a doorway she brings
me, white gold and pearls stolen from the sea." Zoe shoots
her, then thinks better of going in and turns tail to run
away down the alley.

"She is raging, she is raging." Zoe runs, spins. Zombies
come at her at every turn, scaring her but not close enough
to get her.

"And the storm blows up in her eyes." Tears roll down her
face now as she runs. She shivers. We pull back to watch her
tear through the streets at top speed, and as we zoom out we
see a dozen or so zombies moving slowly in her direction,
like a converging half circle.

"She is running to stand still."

FADE TO BLACK:

Script Excerpt - Day 1

INT. SHERIFF’S OFFICE INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY

We see Blake sitting on the other side of a long, white
table. He looks like he hasn’t slept and has a large bandage
wrapped around one arm. Martin steps in and closes the door.

MARTIN
Morning, Blake.

BLAKE
(nods)
Detective.

Martin sets his things down, then pulls out the chair
opposite Blake and sits.

MARTIN
I get you anything?

BLAKE
I’m fine. Just tell me when I can
leave.

MARTIN
Wish it were that easy, son. I read
your statement, and I gotta say,
I’m not so sure things add up.

Martin sips his coffee and flips through the papers.

MARTIN (CONT’D)
Says here, home invasion, self
defense?

BLAKE
I told the deputy just like it
happened. This guy was in my
backyard hacking up my livestock.
He’s deranged. He chases me in the
house and takes a damn bite out of
me. You hear that? He bit me.
(raises his bandaged arm)
Doesn’t say anything the entire
time. Just groans. God damn psycho.
So yeah, I shot him. Damn right
it’s self defense.

MARTIN
And you say this was last night?

BLAKE
’Course it was last night.

Martin pulls the clipboard up and flips through the pages
again. He looks up at Blake.

MARTIN
Coroner doesn’t agree.

Blake leans forward.

BLAKE
I give two shits what that arrogant
prick thinks.

MARTIN
Might want to start caring, son.
Coroner says that body we pulled
out of your house, it has obvious
signs of decomposition. Estimates
the time of death to be at least
four days ago.
(leans back)
Now maybe you want to explain that?

Committed

This was originally published 30.3.2009 as another piece of "Fiction in 10 Tweets" on Twitter. It ties in with this earlier blog post.

Committed - ©2009 @Zombie_Frenzy @brttrx

Zachariah Zeppelin stood a few feet from the doorway. Blood red words were painted on the four walls around him, dominating the white.

"You need to go with the nice men," a soft voice said. Two police officers stood behind his mother in the hall. Square jaws. Serious eyes.

Zachariah retreated. He produced a blade with two wave-shaped points from behind his back. Fresh cuts lined his arms. His stare was hollow.

The two officers brushed by the woman as they moved toward the doorway. The young one dropped a hand to the pistol hanging at his hip.

"Sir, please put the knife down," the older officer said. Zachariah stumbled to the corner. He fell to his knees, a groan escaping his lips.

"He's not well," the woman said, her voice strained. "He sees things that aren't there. He's scared." Her hand gripped a bandaged arm.

The officers advanced with cautious steps. Zachariah covered his face and cried. He held the blade away from him like a severed head.

His voice, muffled and desperate, echoed the words scrawled on the surrounding walls. "They're coming. We'll turn. Our own selfish hell."

The young officer unsnapped his holster. The other shook his head and mouthed, "No." He moved closer to Zachariah. "Hey, kid, I hear you."

Zachariah uncovered an eye. "Come with us, we'll listen," the officer continued. Zachariah dropped the blade. "OK." It was all he wanted.

Zachariah Zeppelin

Zachariah Zeppelin tried to warn you. He tried to warn his friends, his family. When no one would listen he grew frustrated, some would say violent. For his efforts he now finds himself a resident of a lovely padded room at the Brinkvale Psychiatric Hospital. For his own protection- and yours- of course.

You can read the details of his admittance below, and also see one of the "disturbing" sketches he's done as part of a special program at the facility at the bottom right. (Click to enlarge.)