War of the Worlds by Oe16Avx

VIEWS: 8 PAGES: 63

									                                WAR OF THE WORLDS

Naven Bradford
June 16, 2001

FADE IN:

EXT. MARS SURFACE--DAY

The landscape is a deep, sandy red as we move across the near-barren
landscape. There is no sign of life, but a few rocks and ridges line the
desert surface. Then, at a brilliant speed, we move up through the clouds,
then, as a rocket ship would do, we burst through the Martian atmosphere and
into the void of space.

In the distance, a tiny blue sphere grows to a tremendous size, and
majestically reveals itself to be none other than planet Earth in all its
glory. Within a few moments, the planet goes from being a glowing celestial
body, to...

INT. CLASS ROOM--DAY

...a poster. It is hung in an ordinary high school science class room.
Students sit bored, some asleep, as CLAYTON FORRESTER, early 30’s, writes
complicated equations on the chalkboard. There also seem to be two poorly-
drawn diagrams of two planets.

Several students snicker and joke silently as Clayton speaks.

                          CLAYTON
           So, by that we can assume that the probability, while not exact,
           is that this phenomenon, if that is what you’d call it, will not
           occur for another...

His voice tapers off as he sees SANCHEZ and PHILLIP, sporting hip jackets and
beanies, whisper to each other near the back of the class.

                          CLAYTON (CON’T)
           ...few thousand years.

Beat.

Raises his voice.

                          CLAYTON
           Excuse me, Mr. Sanchez?

Sanchez and Phillip both look up, surprised. Acts innocently.

                             SANCHEZ
           Uh, yes, Mr. F?

                          CLAYTON
           Do me a favor and reiterate what I just said to the class.
All eyes turn to Sanchez as he looks around, thinking of something to say.
Stuttering, he speaks, smiles innocently.

                          SANCHEZ
           Something ‘bout planets, right?

                          CLAYTON
           We are in an astronomy class.

                             SANCHEZ (CON’T)
           Yeah, well...

Clayton leans against the chalk board.

                             SANCHEZ
           ...Mars, right?

Students break out in befuddled laughter as SANCHEZ sits silently, not sure
what to do. Clayton sighs.

INT. OFFICE--DAY

Clayton sits at a desk in what appears to be a teachers’ lounge. He is alone,
grading papers.

FOCUS ON the papers. Many are below average grades, many others are marked
with FAIL stamps. A radio plays a news broadcasts in the b.g.

                          BROADCASTER (V.O.)
           ...barred by serious electrical disturbances that appear to have
           manifested from nowhere, thousands are without power in various
           cities...

Clayton clicks the radio off.

CUT TO:

EXT. SALTSBURG--DUSK

WIDE SHOT, establishing.

It is a picturesque little town, the kind of town where everybody knows
everybody. A large church sits in the middle of the shop district, a sort of
landmark, while a few rows of little houses lie on the outskirts. There is a
single bridge leading out of the town, which is surrounded with forestry.

SUPER: SALTSBURG, PENNSLYVANIA

EXT. CLAYTON’S HOUSE--NIGHT

His house is one of several on a street that appears to be sloping downwards
into the center of town. It is two stories, at least thirty years old, and
nearly identical (in structure) to all the others on his street.

Clayton moves around the side of the house carrying several garbage bags. He
dumps them into cans.
INT. KITCHEN, CLAYTON’S HOUSE--NIGHT

Clayton walks into the kitchen and starts for the refrigerator. SARAH, only
7-years old stands on a stool over the sink, washing dishes.

Clayton stands up from digging through the fridge and pops open a beer, after
a sip, looks at his watch, then to SARAH.

                          CLAYTON
           Sarah, bed time.

She protests.

                           SARAH
           I’m not done.

                          CLAYTON
           I’ll finish. Upstairs.

With a slight moan, she marches out of the kitchen.

EXT. BACK YARD, CLAYTON’S HOUSE--NIGHT

Clayton sits upon a picnic table, his beer at his side and a pair of
binoculars in his hands. All is silent but the sounds of crickets and distant
birds. The sky is full of stars. He occasionally swaps his beer with the
binoculars.

SARAH surprises him.

                          SARAH (O.S.)
           Why do always look at stars?

Clayton, surprised, watches her jump up onto the table and sit down next to
him.

                          CLAYTON
           Why aren’t you in bed?

                           SARAH
           It’s Friday.

A beat.

                          CLAYTON
           I didn’t know that.

                          SARAH
           I know, that’s how I got you into finishing the dishes.

Clayton hands her the binoculars and grabs his beer. Whispers under his
breath.

                           CLAYTON
           Smart-ass.

SARAH continues to peer up through the binoculars, pointing towards an
unusually bright star.

                          SARAH
           What’s that one?

Clayton looks up.

                          CLAYTON
           That, is Polaris. At the end of the big dipper.

He makes the constellation with his finger, then, pointing to a deep reddish
celestial object.

                          CLAYTON
           And that-
                  (beat)
           -is Mars. It’s closer to us right now than it’ll be for a thousand
           years.

There is a long silence; the words hang in the air. SARAH puts down the
binoculars, her voice quiet and serene. Clayton stares into space.

                          SARAH
           You never answered my question.

                             CLAYTON
           What question?

                          SARAH
           Why do you look at stars so much?

Clayton obviously doesn’t know how to respond. He takes a sip of beer, tips
his baseball cap, and looks into the distance.

                          CLAYTON
           Because stars never go anywhere.

SARAH looks at him quizzically.

                          CLAYTON
           Unlike good times, or people, like your mother-
                  (beat)
           -no matter what happens, they always just keep shining down, never
           going away, never changing place.

SARAH, looking to the sky.

                          SARAH
           That one’s moving.

Feeling stupid and flashing a questionable look, he grabs the binoculars from
SARAH.

                          CLAYTON
           Let me see that.

He looks to the heavens.
P.O.V. CLAYTON:

THROUGH BINOCULARS. A lone star, brighter than all the rest, moves slowly
through the atmosphere, with a trail of majestic blue flame, like a comet.

                          CLAYTON
           Huh, I don’t know.

He takes the binoculars down. The object is clearly visible without
telescopic lenses. Clayton, SARAH keep their eyes up.

                             SARAH
           Is it a meteor?

Clayton stands up, uses the binoculars.

                          CLAYTON
           I don’t think so.

As quickly as it appeared, it is gone blending in with the other stars.
Clayton puts down the binoculars, but keeps his view to the sky. He glances
curiously, a distilled look upon his face, at SARAH, who shrugs.

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. CLAYTON’S BEDROOM--MORNING

An alarm clock is blaring. Clayton reaches over, awakened from his sleep, and
shuts it off. Sleepily, he stares at the ceiling, and then looks around,
puzzled, for some reason.

INT. KITCHEN--CLAYTON’S HOUSE--MORNING

Clayton enters groggily, Sarah sits at the table eating eggs and bacon, a
mess if left by the stove. Clayton, first to stove, then Sarah.

                             CLAYTON
           Where’s mine?

He sits down next to her.

                          SARAH
           You weren’t up in time.

Groggily, looking around.

                          CLAYTON
           Well what time is it?

                             SLYVIA
           8:30.

He tries to grab a piece of Sarah’s bacon but she pokes him with the fork. He
gets up, towards the stove.

                             CLAYTON
           Alright, I’ll get my own.

He turns on the electric burner and sits. Then, noticing the absence
of...anything, messes with the dials, all in vein. Curiously, he goes over to
a light switch and flicks it on. Nothing. Violently flicks it, still nothing.

                            SARAH
           What’s wrong?

                          CLAYTON
                  (distant)
           Power’s out.

                          SARAH
           It wasn’t five minutes ago.

There is a pause, Clayton stands still, frozen, listening. Beat.

                            CLAYTON
           You hear that?

EXT. HOUSE FRONT--MORNING

Clayton opens the front door to his house and peers outside.

WIDE SHOT: Townspeople have flooded the streets, marching towards the forest
in the b.g. like a parade. Chatter is going on everywhere, barely any
coherent.

Clayton runs down the stairs to his house and grabs Sanchez, who has joined
the crowd. We see SARAH stick her head out the door in the b.g.

                           CLAYTON
                   (to Sanchez)
           Hey!

                          SANCHEZ
                  (surprised)
           Hey, Mr. F.

                          CLAYTON
           What’s going on? Where’s everybody going?

Sanchez answers.

                           SANCHEZ
           Man, I don’t know. Power’s out everywhere, aint nothing working,
           cars, phones. I’m just following everybody to the woods, something
           about a meteor.

                            CLAYTON
           A meteor?

Sanchez hesitates and smiles, not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

                          SANCHEZ
           Yeah, I knew you’d like that, we in astrogaphy class, right?
Sanchez gets caught in the crowd, leaving Clayton behind, staring into the
distance, puzzled. He looks down at his watch.

FOCUS ON:

His watch has stopped ticking.

INT. LIVING ROOM--CLAYTON’S HOUSE--MORNING

SARAH sits reading in the sunlight. Clayton enters, grabs a pullover sweater
and a baseball cap.

                           SARAH
                   (concerned)
            Where are you going?

Clayton looks through cluttered drawers in a nearby desk, looking for
something.

                           CLAYTON
                   (preoccupied)
            I don’t know. But I need you to stay here for a little while.

She protests.

                           SARAH
            What’s going on?

Clayton pulls a small disposable camera from the drawer and slams it shut,
standing erect.

                           CLAYTON
            I’m going to find out.

EXT. TOWN STREETS--MORNING

Clayton pockets his camera and plunges into the crowd. Unlike most people who
are casually walking along and chatting, he is rushing, in an almost rude
fashion, through the parade, pushing people aside like a football player. He
attempts futilely to cover his rudeness with near-indistinct ‘sorry’s’ and
‘excuse me’s’.

EXT. JENKINS FARM--DAY

Finally, Clayton reaches the end of the parade. On the edge of the town is a
farm, and in the field, not more than a football field’s distance from the
silo and barn, is en enormous METEOR. It is stuck in the ground, half-buried;
the part sticking up is about thirty-feet tall. Strangely, it doesn’t appear
to be solid rock, but a strange, silvery-rock covered in dust and debris,
creating the illusion of a meteorite.

There is police tape all around the perimeter of the meteor, and several
POLICEMEN, but no police cars.

CLAYTON rushes to the front of the crowd, along the police tape, about a
hundred feet from the enormous object. He takes out his disposable camera and
aims for a picture.

Suddenly, he looks into the distance, and sees someone he recognizes.

FOCUS ON:

SHERIFF OGILVY, taller, older than Clayton, talks indistinctly in the
distance with a deputy.

Clayton shouts.

                           CLAYTON
            Ogilvy!

Sheriff Ogilvy looks around, then, spotting Clayton walks over to him. They
shake hands.

                           SHERIFF OGILVY
            Speak of the devil, I was just wondering when the best scientist
            in town was going to show up.

He waves Clayton on. Clayton ducks under the police tape and follows Ogilvy
towards the meteor.

                           CLAYTON
            You could of called someone.

                           SHERIFF OGILVY
            Couldn’t, all the phones are down, we’ve got no communication with
            any other division or military installment.

Ogilvy’s tone turns dim as both men stop, just a few feet from the meteor,
staring up at its mysteriousness and majesty.

                           SHERIFF OGILVY (CON’T)
            It’s like being trapped.

The words linger. Clayton reaches up and tries to snap a picture with the
camera, but to no avail. He examines it.

                           SHERIFF OGILVY
            That’s fired too, huh? Tell me, Clayton, what in the world could
            fry up every gizmo in this here town?

Long beat. Clayton himself isn’t sure. After he doesn’t answer, Ogilvy
realizes.

                           SHERIFF OGILVY
            You don’t know, either, huh?

They walk around to the other side of the meteor, there appears to be a large
pit surrounding it, like a crater. Clayton and Ogilvy watch as two DEPUTIES,
shirts off and sweating profusely, stand inside the pit, digging at the
surface of the meteor.

They stop and watch.
                          SHERIFF OGILVY
           Yeah, we’ve had people down there all day, we’d be alot faster if
           we had some damn caterpillars, but the damn things are fried, too.

One of the diggers looks up, looking miserable.

                          DIGGER
           Sure is hot down here.

Ogilvy shows little sympathy.

                          SHERIFF OGILVY
           Another hour and I’ll get you an aquafina-

Ogilvy waves Clayton over a post sticking out of the ground from a fence that
has long been removed. Both men lean down near it, examining it.

                          SHERIFF OGILVY
           You’ve got to take a look at this.

There appears to be a RED WEED, like an ivy vine of a deep, blood red,
wrapped around the post, coming from underground. Clayton’s eyes show of deep
thought, now, as he stares at the red vine.

                          SHERIFF OGILVY
           Found it this morning, after Mr. Jenkins told us about a meteor on
           his farm.

Clayton reaches out and touches the vine. Both jump back as the vine suddenly
pulsates violently, apparently in response to Clayton’s touch.

                            SHERIFF OGILVY
           Is it alive?

                          CLAYTON
           Well, it looks like a plant, and plants are alive.

He then grabs a piece of the vine and rips it off from the rest. Pulling it
to his face, it instantly turns a dark purple and shrivels like a slug.

                            SHERIFF OGILVY
           You killed it.

They look back to the damaged vine wrapped around the fence post. In an
instant, the vine grows right before their eyes, snaking its way towards to
part Clayton ripped off and fixes itself. Then stops, remains still.

                          SHERIFF OGILVY
                  (quietly)
           Yup, that’s sure as hell alive.

The men look to each other.

In the b.g. we hear a loud CLUNK. Chatter erupts from the crowd as Ogilvy and
Clayton rush over to the pit, where the two diggers look up at them, a guilty
look upon their faces.
                          DIGGER
           I must’ve hit it by mistake.

                          SHERIFF OGILVY
           Well do it again!

Puzzled, the digger hesitates, then slams the end of his shovel into the wall
of the meteor, creating once again a loud, metallic clunk.

Police and others look on curiously as something strange starts to happen. A
mechanical humming can be heard coming from inside the meteor. Clayton’s eyes
widen. Looks to Ogilvy.

                          CLAYTON
           This isn’t a meteor.

                          SHERIFF OGILVY
           Say what?

More certain.

                          CLAYTON
           This size, would’ve made a crater, and the sound, it sounds
           hollow.

The mechanical humming continues as Ogilvy, convinced it is a meteor, looks
at Clayton like he’s a nut. Clayton doesn’t pay attention to this and slips
over the lip of the small pit and falls into place near the diggers. He then
rushes over to the edge of the meteor, and slowly, ever slowly touches it.

He pulls it away in an instant.

                          DIGGER
           Should of warned you it was hot.

Clayton isn’t listening too intently; he grabs on the diggers’ shirts (which
are lying about, diggers had taken them off due to the heat) and wraps it
around his hand. Then, more quickly than before, rips away pieces of dust and
mud from the meteor to eventually reveal a slick metal surface.

Taking a step back, everyone gasps.

Clayton climbs out of the pit and stands next to Ogilvy. The humming suddenly
stops.

WIDE SHOT: Clayton and Ogilvy in the shadow of the meteor. This is the first
time we can truly appreciate its immensity.

                          CLAYTON
           That’s not a meteor.

INT. KITCHEN--CLAYTON’S HOUSE--NIGHT

Clayton sets down a plate of spaghettios in front of Sarah. It is dark, and
the only light comes from a small candle in the middle of the table. Clayton
sits down, too.
SARAH looks concerned, doesn’t touch her plate. Clayton, on the other hand
scarfs down his hastily.

                            SARAH
           What’s in it?

Referring to the object/meteor.

                            CLAYTON
           I don’t know.

                          SARAH
           Are they people?

                            CLAYTON
           I don’t know.

Beat.

                          SARAH
           Are they aliens?

There is a long beat. Clayton stops chewing and thinks. He doesn’t answer and
finally goes back to his food. SARAH, at long last, takes a bite of hers.

                            SARAH
           It’s cold.

                          CLAYTON
                  (preoccupied)
           We can’t cook with no power.

                          SARAH
           I’m scared of the dark.

                          CLAYTON
                  (preoc)
           That’s why we have candles.

                          SARAH
           When are the lights coming back on?

Clayton erupts, slams his fists on the tabletop.

                            CLAYTON
           That’s enough!

On queue, the lights flicker back on, illuminating the kitchen. The clock on
the wall starts moving again and the television set can be heard blaring in
the living room.

Clayton stares at SARAH.

                          CLAYTON
                  (quietly)
           It’s bed time.
SARAH feels her head.

                               SARAH
              My head’s hot.

                             CLAYTON
              Well, we’ll get you some medicine.

He gets up.

                               CLAYTON
              Bed time.

Exits. SARAH looks a bit more pale than usual.

EXT. JENKINS FARM--NIGHT

The ‘meteor’ sits still, deserted now. A flashlight beam pierces the area; it
is Sanchez and Phillip. They sneak behind a bush near the meteor and stare at
its majesty.

                             PHILLIP
              What’s inside, yo.

                             SANCHEZ
              I don’t know, come on.

Sanchez lurches up and starts towards the pit surrounding the meteor.
Phillip, hesitantly, follows. Near the meteor, Sanchez shines the light upon
it to reveal that much of the dust and debris has fallen off, revealing the
shiny metallic surface underneath.

                               PHILLIP
              Whoa.

Sanchez smiles and picks up a rock, then hurls it at the meteor. It hits with
a clank, surprising Phillip.

                             PHILLIP
              Hey, man, watch out!

                             SANCHEZ
              Don’t worry about it.

Suddenly, the strange mechanical humming heard before re-enters our ears.
Both Phillip and Sanchez look around nervously.

                               SANCHEZ
              What’s that?

Then, atop the meteor, something happens. A snake-like flexible mechanical
tentacle emerges from the top, a camera lens-like large ‘head’ mounted to the
top. It shakes off some dust and appears to look around the perimeter.

Phillip, nervous.

                               PHILLIP
                  (quietly)
           What the hell is that thing?

Sanchez shakes his head. The snake-like tentacle then stops, spotting the two
men, and extends downward. Phillip and Sanchez back off, but only to be
greeted by this snake-like tentacle face-to-face. It examines them, like a
doctor examines a patient.

                          PHILLIP
                  (quiet, scared)
           What is it doing?

Sanchez, visibly shaken, shakes his head. After a few beats, the tentacle
shrinks back near the top and stands completely stiff, aimed at the two men.

There is a long, awkward silence accompanied only by the chirping of nearby
crickets.

                          PHILLIP
           What’s it doing?

ZAP!

In less than a second, a beam of white light emits from the tentacle’s head,
turning Phillip into a mere cloud of dust, his clothes floating to Earth.

Sanchez looks horrified, and starts to run.

As he runs, he isn’t zapped, but the tentacle extends and wraps around him
like a boa constrictor and pulls him quickly into the ship. We are left with
the loud sound of intense, terrified screaming.

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. CLAYTON’S BEDROOM--NIGHT

The scream still ushers in the distance, faint. Clayton awakens abruptly as
if from a bad dream, his heart beating on rapid fire, his breaths short and
panicky.

CUT TO:

Moments later, he is rummaging around his bedroom, getting dressed.

EXT. CLAYTON’S HOUSE FRONT--NIGHT

Clayton exits and runs down the stairs, only to be approached by Ogilvy’s
police car, his windows down.

                          OGILVY
                  (through windows)
           You heard it, too, huh?

Clayton stares. Ogilvy opens the passenger door.

                          OGILVY
           Come on, Jenkin’s place.
EXT. JENKIN’S FARM--NIGHT

The scene is familiar.

Ogilvy’s car pulls up to the meteor and stops. Both men get out.

                          CLAYTON
           Keep the lights on.

Ogilvy does so, and walks over to join Clayton. He steps on something unusual
and looks down.

                            OGILVY
           What the hell?

Clayton looks down, too.

All over the ground surrounding about 20 feet around the meteor is the
mysterious red weed, growing like ivy.

                          CLAYTON
           It must’ve come from the meteor.

Ogilvy is awkwardly trying to step around the pulsating plants..

                            OGILVY
           Yeah, no shit.

Clayton then spots something and rushes over to it, the red weed crunching
beneath him. Ogilvy follows more carefully.

Leaning down a few feet away, we see Clayton examining on the ground what
appear to be articles of clothing. They seem to be in good condition, but
covered in a strange white dust, like ash. Ogilvy looks down over his
shoulder.

                            OGILVY
           Clothes?

                           CLAYTON
                   (distant)
           Yeah.

                          OGILVY
           Huh...damn kids must’ve thought it be a funny joke.

Ogilvy walks around examining the are in the b.g., while Clayton remains
frozen in fear, holding the clothes of a dead man in his hand. He then drops
the shirt and looks at his hands, covered in white dust, curiosity dominates
his face.

And then comes the mysterious mechanical humming.

Both men look at the object from which it has arisen with curious eyes.
Suddenly, the snake-like tentacle rises once again from its hiding place
inside the meteor.
                          OGILVY
           What in the world?

Clayton is frozen. Ogilvy is more enthusiastic.

The tentacle dips down and examines Ogilvy, ignoring Clayton, for the most
part, and gently nudges him. Ogilvy taps the camera-like head, chuckling.

                          OGILVY
           Weird looking critter, ain’t you.

Clayton looks back down at his hands, covered in the white dust. His
breathing becomes much, much heavier as he realizes what’s going on and
clenches his fist, small tears running down his face.

He looks up at Ogilvy, who seems to be enjoying his visit with the tentacle.
He speaks, under his breath, gritting his teeth, in as cautious a tone as one
can imagine.

                             CLAYTON
           Ogilvy...run...

Ogilvy looks over at Clayton, the tentacle retracts off-screen.

                             CLAYTON
           I said...run.

Ogilvy casts a look of confusion.

                             OGILVY
           Say what?

ZAP!

From off screen, a flash of laser-light strikes Ogilvy as he explodes in a
cloud of ashes, just as Phillip before him. Clayton doesn’t waste any time;
he darts for the car.

As he runs, a burst of laser narrowly misses him and the Earth behind him
erupts in cloud of dirt and dust. He rolls, and amidst the chaos manages to
jump into the car. He starts it and floors the gas pedal. The car narrowly
escapes another blast from the heat ray and strikes a cow instead, shattering
it into ash, much to the dismay of other cows.

The car speeds off down the road, and the object starts to move out of the
pit/

EXT. CLAYTON’S HOUSE FRONT--DAWN

Ogilvy’s car pulls up and stops in the driveway.

INT. LIVING ROOM--CLAYTON’S HOUSE--DAWN

SARAH lays on the couch, covered with a blanket, a half-empty bowl of chicken
soup sits on the coffee table. A cartoon show plays on the television.
Clayton enters, looking petrified.

                             SARAH
           Where were you?

He doesn’t answer, he walks to a chair and sits down, his face sweaty and
pale with fear. SARAH picks up a nearby thermometer.

                          SYVLIA
           My temperature’s up.

Something is noticeably troubling Clayton, SARAH picks up on this.

                             SARAH
           What’s wrong?

Beat.

Clayton dismally looks down at his hand, covered in the white ash that was
once a human being. He quickly stands up and brushes it off hastily. He
points at SARAH.

                          CLAYTON
           Get up, we’re going.

He walks about, grabs a backpack, and starts stuffing random things inside.

                             SYVLIA
           Why?

                          CLAYTON
           Ask questions later.

His voice is shaky and hurried.

                          SARAH
           Where are we going?

EXT. STREETS--FRONT OF CLAYTON’S HOUSE--DAWN

Clayton, with SARAH by his side, bursts from his house and power-walks
towards Ogilvy’s car. His face is petrified, determined. The streets, besides
the normal morning-goers, are relatively quiet and calm.

SARAH notices Ogilvy’s car.

                          SARAH
           That’s not our car.

                             CLAYTON
           It’s faster.

SARAH looks at Clayton’s SUV in the driveway.

                          SARAH
           That’s a police car.
                          CLAYTON
           It’s Uncle Ogilvy’s car.

Beat, SARAH looks around.

                            SARAH
           Where is he?

Beat.

Clayton opens the passenger door and throws the bag inside.

                            CLAYTON
           Get it.

                            SARAH
           But-

Clayton slams his fist on the car roof and stares at her. SARAH doesn’t
protest any longer, she jumps in the car. Clayton takes a look around, then
hops in.

CUT TO:

EXT. GROCERY STORE--DAY

Ogilvy’s car pulls up to a small convenience store and pulls hastily into a
handicap space.

                          SARAH (O.S.)
           You can’t park here.

Clayton ignores her and gets out.

                            CLAYTON
           Stay put.

INT. GROCERY STORE--DAY

It is peaceful. Citizens are lined up with their orders as an ELDERLY CASHIER
moves slowly through scanning items. Clayton looks around and rudely grabs
several bags of chips and sodas from the shelves, and gets in line. His head
shifts nervously as the elderly cashier seems to be moving even slower.

                          CLAYTON
                  (nervously)
           Can we hurry it up-
                  (lower)
           -please?

Everyone gives him an awkward glance, then turn back to their waiting.

INT. OGILVY’S CAR--DAWN

Syvlia buckles in. Clayton starts the car and throws his bag of groceries in
the back seat, when we hear BECK’S VOICE outside.
                              BECK (O.S.)
            Hey, Forrester!

Beck, an older neighbor, approaches the driver’s side window, grasping a
newspaper. Clayton stares at him, rolls the window down.

                           BECK
            Hey Forrester, where the hell’s your brother, I’ve been trying to
            call him all morning to report a scream last night. You hear it,
            it was as loud as...

Clayton interrupts.

                              CLAYTON
            Beck!

                           BECK
            What’s going on, Clayton?

They see something. Clayton looks over Beck’s shoulder as he continues to
talk near-indistinctly.

                           BECK
            You know I know you’re close with your brother but I’ve been
            having some complaints about the police force around here, they’re
            late...

He keeps on.

In the b.g., Clayton stares, as we see a beautiful shot of something moving
up over the trees. It is enormous, and goes unnoticed by Beck. The main bulk
rises above the canopy line, and we see that it is a titanic tripod machine,
shaking back and forth, ridding itself of the dust.

FOCUS ON:

Clayton’s eyes widen.

SARAH seems to be falling asleep in the seat.

Beck continues to talk sporadically as the window suddenly rolls up. Beck,
looking appalled, taps on the window.

                           BECK
            Hey, that’s awfully rude of you Forrester.

                           SARAH
            Dad, what are you doing?

EXT. STREETS--FRONT OF CLAYTON’S HOUSE--DAWN

The car speeds off down the street, leaving Beck standing stupidly on the
street, his arms open, appalled. Suddenly, he is vaporized from a laser beam.
The giant Martian-tripod steps into the street and immediately takes to
zapping every house in sight.

INT. OGILVY’S CAR--DAWN
As the car races down the street, SARAH looks back at the giant Martian-
tripod setting fire to every building sight. She screams.

Clayton careens the car through the streets.

                          CLAYTON
           SARAH, I’m gonna need you to stay calm for me baby.

                          SARAH
           Oh my, God, oh my, God!

She breathes heavily and sits deep in the seat, panting, holding her heart.

                          CLAYTON
           SARAH, stay brave, sweetheart.

EXT. TOWN SQUARE--DAY

Moments later, Ogilvy’s car pulls into an intersection near the large church.
People walk about their business as usual, not suspecting a giant Martian-
tripod is only blocks away.

The car stops at a traffic light, unable to get around the traffic.

SARAH looks around, panicky.

                          SARAH
           Why’d we stop? Why’d we stop?!

Suddenly, people look to the sky as the huge Martian-tripod machine rises
above the buildings, the snake-like tentacle above the main part acting as
its eye, scanning the fleeing people above.

Some people stop and stare, others flee. The tripod starts to lift one of its
legs and steps over a row of buildings, onto an SUV that a couple had
recently fled to.

The giant machine stands over the streets, looking down at the people below.
At its gull height, it stands at least 75-feet tall, not counting the snake-
like appendage above.

The church, several people are fleeing into it, many are looking out from the
windows, standing at the doorway looking up at the metal behemoth. It becomes
quiet, very quiet, as unsuspecting people stare up to the sky in wonder.

INT. OGILVY’S CAR--DAY

Clayton looks up at the metal monster as the people in front of him exit
their cars to join the crowd staring up, blocking his way across the
intersection. He rolls down the window to address the exiting people.

                          CLAYTON
                  (yelling)
           Hey, hey, get back in your cars, move!

They don’t listen, they can’t when a loud, droning roar ushering from the
tripod seems to overshadow every other sound in the world.

It is then Clayton notices a path along the sidewalk, leading around the
traffic. He looks to SARAH, who is shaking and biting her nails.

                            CLAYTON
              Hold on.

EXT. TOWN SQUARE--DAY

Just then, a super-charged laser shoots from the snake-like appendage of the
tripod, torching the church, transforming it from a beautiful structure into
a mere cloud of smoke and ash.

Ogilvy’s car takes off around the sidewalk, amidst the fleeing people and
takes off down the streets.

INT. OGILVY’S CAR--DAY

The car speeds at full speed. Sarah crouches in the seat terrified. Clayton
looks in the rearview mirror.

P.O.V. THROUGH MIRROR:

In the b.g., on the streets, people are vaporized left and right. The
Martians show no mercy, women, children, anybody and everybody are zapped
into nothingness.

EXT. TOWN SQUARE--DAY

It is chaos. People explode in mid-stride. A car is smashed under one of the
three-toed feet of the tripod. Fire chases along the roof of the buildings.
Not everybody is zapped, some are picked up with series of other snake-like
tentacles and sucked into the main part (head) of the tripod.

EXT. TOWN BRIDGE--DAY

REVERSE ANGLE, CHASING. Ogilvy’s car speeds out of the town, a gas station
stands next to the bridge. In the b.g., the Martian-tripod fires a laser beam
at the gas station, it explodes in a cloud of flame, destroying the cars and
incinerating customers.

We see SARAH scream from inside the car.

PAN UP.

The car speeds across the bridge and onto a windy road.

A sign on the road reads:

“GREENSBORO         12”

In the b.g., the Martian tripod continues its destruction.

EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD--DAY

Ogilvy’s car speeds along a windy, mountain road, obviously in a hurry.
Another, less hurried car passes by and is almost run off the road, much to
the dismay of the driver, as evidenced by the honking and yelling.

INT. OGILVY’S CAR--DAY

Clayton looks back at the other car.

                            CLAYTON
             Hey you’re going the wrong way! You’re going the wrong-

He turns back to the wheel, giving up.

SARAH sits hunched in the seat, crying uncontrollably. As he drives.

                            CLAYTON
             SARAH, I need to stop crying sweetheart. SARAH, SARAH, listen.

She tries to stop, sniffles.

                            CLAYTON
             We’re going to go to get help. You understand? We’re going to be
             fine.

SARAH stops crying, stares into the distance.

                            CLAYTON
             Hey, you going to be okay?

Clayton looks.

EXT. GREENSBORO--DAY

WIDE SHOT:

Greensboro sits as Saltsburg did once before, but more industrialized, with a
mall in the b.g. Only unlike Saltsburg, which was quaint and peaceful,
Greensboro is bustling with life, most of it-military.

Dark green hummers and military vans are everywhere, as are soldiers running
about and directing the flow of hundreds of people, apparently refugees. It
is a jumbled mess of bodies, all wanting to go places, but being ordered to
go to others. There are tents and satellites everywhere.

FOCUS ON:

On tourist walks around spotting a video camera. An MP spots him.

                            MP
             I’m gonna need you to put that away, sir!

FOCUS ON:

COLLINS, an MP (military police), sees Ogilvy’s police car pull up to the
edge of the make-shift military base. He reads the number on the side of the
police car and starts looking through a sheet of what appear to be records.

The car stops.
INT. OGILVY’S CAR--DAY

Clayton looks around.

Collins comes up to the window as Clayton rolls it down.

                           COLLINS
            Sheriff Ogilvy Forrester?

Hesitant.

                           CLAYTON
            No, no my name’s Clayton, I’m his brother.

Collins gives him a curious look.

                              COLLINS
            Then-

He realizes, glances at SARAH.

                              COLLINS
            I’m very sorry.

Another MP comes over to Collins and talks to him indistinctly, off camera.
SARAH speaks, her voice full of what were once tears.

                           SARAH
            Where’s Uncle Ogilvy?

Clayton grasps her head and kisses it, she cries. Collins comes back to the
window.

                           COLLINS
            We’re not allowing any vehicles through. I’ve been asked to escort
            you down to a safe house.

Clayton looks at him, a beat.

                           COLLINS
            We have to leave now, sir.

EXT. GREENSBORO--DAY

Clayton, SARAH exit. They follow Collins through the thinning crowd of
people, navigating a street. As they wade through people.

                           COLLINS
                   (preoc)
            Damn things started popping up everywhere. New York, Jersey, LA.
            Power went out everywhere, and fried the computers in most of our
            choppers, that’s why we’ve been limited to old hummers and tanks.

They reach a town hall-like building. They stop at the entrance.

                              CLAYTON
           Hey!

Collins turns.

                          CLAYTON
           Has anyone else come from Saltsburg?

Beat.

                          COLLINS
           You’re the first.

He opens the door.

INT. TOWN HALL-DAY

Clayton, SARAH, Collins enter.

It is packed. People line the walls, military police try to explain the
situation to impatient citizens, many futilely. A SPOILED WOMAN argues next
to an MP.

                          SPOILED WOMAN
           There isn’t even any heat in this building I was much happier back
           at my house.

                          MP
           Mam, we have order-

It tapers off.

                          COLLINS
           We’re keeping everybody here for a while, prepping some ferries up
           north to take everyone up to Pittsburgh.

Beat. Clayton looks around.

                          COLLINS
           Any questions, just ask an MP.

Collins exits. Clayton looks around nervously, his hand grasped firmly to
Sarah's. They walk over to a stand serving various snack foods. He grabs and
handful of chips, holds them to SARAH.

                             CLAYTON
           Eat.

                             SARAH
           I’m not hungry.

Sighing, almost angrily.

                          CLAYTON
           Sarah, I’m not going to argue.

She takes a bite, they move down along a makeshift buffet table, Clayton
hastily grabs at different selections. They reach the end of the table and
come face-to-face with a heavy set woman, putting on make-up. Clayton tosses
her an awkward look, and moves on.

By a corner, Clayton finds a near-empty corner table, with one man sitting at
it. Clayton, Sarah, stop before him. A reverend sits solemnly at the table.
Looks up at Clayton and Sarah.

                          REVEREND
           It’s okay, really.

They sit down near him, Clayton lets the food fall to the tabletop.

                          CLAYTON
           Eat.

Sarah remains frozen.

                           CLAYTON
                   (whisper)
           Now.

Hesitantly, she picks up potato chips and cookies and nibbles. The reverend
laughs slightly, he looks drunken, beat up, exhausted.

                          REVEREND
           You’ve seen them.

Clayton looks.

                          REVEREND
           The machines, you’ve seen them?

Nods.

                          REVEREND
           I’ve heard them talking-

He signals towards a few military police chatting amongst themselves.

                          REVEREND
           Machines, killing most people, taking some.

Clayton’s eyes widen. The reverend takes another sip of whatever it is he’s
drinking.

                          REVEREND
           I bet it was terrible.

Beat.

                          CLAYTON
                  (slowly)
           You have no idea.

Another beat.

                          REVEREND
           Some people are scared, others in denial. They don’t know what
           this is, but I know what this is.

Clayton focuses tighter, intrigued. Another, long beat, as the reverend
chuckles a little. He looks at Clayton, meets his eyes.

                          REVEREND
           No one would have believed in these first few years of the 21st
           century, that this world has been watched by intelligences greater
           than our own.

He breaks his gaze and stares into the distance.

                          REVEREND
           As man, busied themselves among their various concerns, we were
           being watched, scrutinized, studied, just as we study organisms
           under a microscope. In these troubling times, we have to ask
           ourselves one very, very important question...

Long beat. He looks back to Clayton, who is now deeply focused.

                          REVEREND
           Are we, or they, the lords of the world?

The mood has become quieter, the lights suddenly go out.

Chatter erupts in the darkness, as only small streams of dusk’s daylight fall
in through the windows. After a few moments, it calms down. Military Police
yell over the chattering crowd.

                          MP
           Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, we are having minor technical
           problems, we ask that you remain calm...

The reverend’s voice overshadows the voice of the MP.

                          REVEREND
           I know what this is, this isn’t an invasion, this, my friend, is
           the rapture. These machines weren’t sent from another planet, not
           from Mars, or space, they were sent from hell.

Clayton looks at him. The reverend stands up, brushes off.

                          REVEREND
           And when my time comes, I’ll be ready to depart.

He walks away.

Clayton watches as the reverend walks off screen. He looks down to see that
Sarah has fallen asleep by his side. He embraces her, his eyes close.

FADE TO: BLACK.

EXT. GREENSBORO--NIGHT

Establishing.
Calm, military police fall sleep on patrol. The town hall rests silently.

INT. TOWN HALL--NIGHT

We creep along the floor, it is like someone took an Uzi to the building,
with people lying asleep everywhere in various positions and places.

In the corner, Clayton lays on the corner booth cushion, Sarah by his side.

FOCUS ON:

His face twitches, his eyes open slowly.

Something, he notices something on his leg. He moves his head around, trying
not to wake Sarah, and reaches down. His breath deepens as he realizes that
some of the red weed, or vine, from before on JENKINS FARM has wrapped itself
around his shoe. Quietly panicking, he sits up, producing a sleepy moan from
Sarah. He rips the red weed off his shoe and hurtles it to the ground, where
it writhes around like a worm.

He sits up, and looks around.

P.O.V. CLAYTON:

People are sleeping everywhere, like a big target for the aliens.

He realizes this, holds Sarah in front of him and whispers hurriedly.

                           CLAYTON
            Sarah, Sarah, we’re leaving.

Sarah’s voice is louder, groggy.

                           SARAH
            Why?

Clayton holds his finger to his lips as people wiggle about, twitching
sleepily.

                           CLAYTON
            Shh!
                   (looks around)
            Quietly, follow me.

They head towards the exit, stepping over sleeping bodies.

FOCUS ON:

In the corner of the room, the red weed grows from a crack in the wall like
ivy.

EXT. TOWN HALL--GREENSBORO--DAWN

The dawn is not orange, but a faint, dim blue.

Military Police scramble about, as in a panic. Clayton and Sarah exit the
town hall at the end of the street, it is like a main street, from the top of
the stairs they have a clear view of the end of the street where the military
has set up the barrier.

                          SARAH
           What’s going on?

                           CLAYTON
           I don’t know.

A soldier runs by and grabs Clayton’s arm.

                          SOLDIER
                  (panicked)
           I need you to go back inside, sir.

Clayton stands still.

                           SOLDIER
           Sir?!

He stares, the soldier gives up and runs to join the others. The town hall
door opens and people from inside file out to stare.

                          RANDOM PERSON
           What’s happening out here?


EXT. BARRIER--GREENSBORO--DAWN

Soldiers line up, many kneel down with rifles in hand, aiming at the trees on
the hill in the b.g. One lieutenant stands up, shouting.

                          LIEUTENANT
           Come on, let’s move!

Several soldiers come running over to the barrier of hummers wielding a large
rocket launcher. They place it down and aim it towards the trees.

                           LIEUTENANT
           Fire, fire!

In an instant, a shell rockets from the launcher and explodes into the trees
beyond, setting them ablaze. Smoke billows from the damaged forestry as
soldiers brace themselves and the sound from the rocket tapers off into the
sound of burning leaves.

                          LIEUTENANT
           Hold it! Hold your fire!

There is a long silence as everyone watches methodically the tree line. Then,
something...

Slowly, the burnt trees start to slowly oscillate and sway as suddenly,
slowly, a huge Martian tripod emerges from the foliage, apparently undamaged.

Everyone stares.
EXT. TOWN HALL--GREENSBORO--DAWN

Sarah clutches Clayton’s arm.

                            SARAH
                    (scared)
             Daddy...

EXT. BARRIER--GREENSBORO--DAWN

Soldiers stare, many are in awe, one in particular is shaking with fear.

The Martian tripod’s head rotates on the three metal legs as it looks down
upon the people below. Then, it lets out a loud, mechanical low-toned roar.

For the most part, it is a stalemate; the tripod isn’t firing, and neither
are the soldiers.

FOCUS ON:

The shaking soldier starts hyperventilating and accidentally pulls the
trigger.

The bullet sparks upon the metal of the Martian tripod. All eyes turn towards
the soldier, as suddenly, a mechanical droning echoes from the tripod, when
suddenly the snake-like tentacle emerges from the head and seems to look down
at the soldiers.

There is a long quiet beat, when suddenly...

ZAP!

From behind the barrier, a laser fires into the crowd of soldiers, exploding
a hummer, causing people to scatter like roaches.

EXT. GREENSBORO--ALL-DAWN

WIDE SHOT.

Another Martian tripod is standing behind the town hall. It, along with the
other in front of the barrier, are firing lasers at the crowd and sucking up
others with random mechanical appendages.

EXT. TOWN HALL-GREENSBORO--DAWN

Clayton grabs Sarah and takes off down the stairs, just in time to avoid a
laser fire. He takes off into the crowd of soldiers and randomly vaporizing
citizens.

The SPOILED WOMAN from inside looks up at the tripod just nearly above her
head.

                            SPOILED WOMAN
             Holy-

Before she can finish she is vaporized into oblivion.
EXT. GREENSBORO--ALL--DAWN

It is total chaos.

Clayton grasps Sarah as she screams. Gun fire and laser fire is reigns all
around. In the b.g., a soldier, firing a weapon, is picked up by on of the
gripping tentacles of the tripod, it throws him into the air, producing a
scream, while the other tripod zaps him in mid flight. His body explodes, but
his uniform flaps downward.

Clayton runs past a fallen soldier and jumps over him, not paying attention,
but Sarah is.

                             SARAH
           Daddy!

He looks up and jumps back as the foot of one of the giant tripods slams down
in front of him. He and Sarah, along with a few other people, are directly
below the tripod, looking up at its bottom.

Suddenly, several mechanical tentacles fire downward and wrap around several
people, pulling them up into the machine. And, to our horror, one of the
tentacles wraps around Clayton’s leg. He trips over it, dropping a screaming
Sarah. On the ground, he immediately grabs the rifle of a fallen soldier
before him.

                             SARAH
           Daddy!

The tentacle starts to pull Clayton up as he takes the rifle and shoots at
it, causing it to snap and drop him.

                             CLAYTON
           Come on!

He grabs Sarah and runs for a nearby alley.

A FEW HUNDRED YARDS AWAY, the Reverend is simply walking among the screaming,
panicking, burning people. He is walking slowly towards a tripod, which
almost appears to be taking pleasure in torching the people around it. He has
one hand up, his palm facing out, and the other gripped around a bible on his
side.

He stops before on the of the tripods, which looks down at him.

A beat, the chaos seems to cease for a moment.

                          REVEREND
           I shall fear no evil, as I-

A mechanical droning ushers from the tripod as the snake-like appendage
focuses in on the reverend. He gulps, and is blasted into nothingness. His
clothes flutter to the ground, as does the bible, the pages charred.

EXT. ALLEY--GREENSBORO--DAWN

Clayton runs down the alley carrying Sarah. In the b.g., we see a Martian
tripod walk by, carelessly zapping people into dust. They run to a dumpster,
Clayton puts down Sarah and opens the top.

                           SARAH
            I’m not getting in there!

Just then, a group of people come running down the street, the Martian tripod
looks their way.

Clayton quickly picks up Sarah and jumps into the dumpster with her.

INT. DUMPSTER--DAWN

Clayton covers Sarah with his body and slams the door shut. Through the
cracks in the side, we can see blasts of light as the people outside are
incinerated and zapped.

FOCUS ON:

The laser zapping outside keeps Clayton’s face alit as he breathes
frantically, before finally, it ceases, and we see but pitch black.

EXT. GREENSBORO--MAIN STREET--DAY

The smoke clears slowly, revealing a grisly scene: buildings are cracked and
demolished, tanks, jeeps crushed, charred roadways and walls. The trees all
around the town are burnt, many still on fire.

EXT. ALLEY--GREENSBORO--DAY

ZOOM IN: The Dumpster top opens slightly, revealing Clayton’s eyes, looking
around. Sarah’s voice comes from inside.

                             SARAH (O.S.)
            Are they gone?

He doesn’t answer, climbing out, stumbles. Looking around cautiously, he sees
that there appear to be no tripods around, just a grisly, cemetery-like
atmosphere.

Turning around, he reaches into the dumpster to take Sarah out.

                           CLAYTON
            Come on, sweetie. Be careful.

Stumbling, he pulls her out. Grasping hands, both walk down the alley,
towards the street. As they walk, we see that the red weed has grown
erraticaly all ovet the side of the buildings and streets, and even over the
fallen bodies, pulsating wildly.

Sarah gaspsm at a fallen, mangled body that almost appears to being fed off
by the red weed. Clayton covers her eyes.

                           CLAYTON
            Don’t look, don’t look.

She grabs his side.
EXT. MAIN STREET--GREENSBORO--DAY

They hug the walls as Clayton looks out over the carnage.

                           CLAYTON
            Jesus...

Sarah looks up at him.

                           SARAH
                   (whisper)
            Where is everybody?

Clayton looks down at a fallen soldier, instinctively, he kneels down and
hastilly searches the body. Sarah looks on in horror.

                            SARAH
            What are you doing?
                   (scream)
            What are doing?

Clayton spins, his face angry.

                           CLAYTON
            Shut up!

She does.

Clayton continues to search the body until he finds a utlity belt with a
taser. He rips it from his holster and slips it into his pocket. He then
continues until he finds a pistol, cocking it, shells fall to the ground. He
slips another clip from the utility belt into the holster.

CRASH!

Behind them, a sound of something moving beyond the shattered window of a
damaged store.

                           SARAH
            Ahh!

Clayton spins and threateningly aims the pistol at the store, his hands
shaking, his breath heavy.

SLOW ZOOM IN: The movement within the store increases, before Collins, his
face blackened with ash, pushes through debris into the open. He looks at
Clayton.

                           COLLINS
            Save it for them.

Clayton slowly retracts the pistol while Collins walks towards them, looking
around and occasionally looking over the bodies of the fallen for useful
items. He speaks as he examines.

                           COLLINS
                  (preoc)
           Damn things, we weren’t ready. We weren’t ready.

He leans down towards a soldier’s uniform covered with the white ash that was
once a human being, gently wipes the dust off the nametag to reveal “MORRIS.”

BY CLAYTON. He finds the camcorder the tourist was using before. Carefully,
he wipes dust from the LCD screen and presses REWIND, then PLAY, to show a
shaky video P.O.V. of someone running from the chaos of the Martian-tripods
before finally, and quickly, falling to the ground. In the b.g. of the video,
we see the tripods step over many people and destroy more buildings, before
finally cutting out. Clayton drops the camera and gulps.

Collins gets up, beats between his words.

                          COLLINS
                  (preoc)
           They told us, coming down here, that we might have to do some
           fighting, all of our new stuff was down, so we had to resort to
           old hummers and things, nothing with computers.
                  (beat)
           We weren’t ready, using twenty-year old weapons against those damn
           things, didn’t even scratch ‘em.

He stands near Clayton, facing him.

                          COLLINS
           And you know what pisses me off the most?

Clayton shakes his head. Collins smiles, devilishly.

                          COLLINS
           About a month ago they tracked this thing coming off Mars, like a,
           like a solar flare.

                          CLAYTON
           Those come off the sun.

Collins smiles again.

                          COLLINS
           Not this one. It landed in a forest by Santa Clara. Napalm,
           artilley, rocket, nothing.
                  (beat)
           They knew these damn things were indestructible the moment they
           got here, but they sent us anyway.

Collins suddenly sees something in the distance, he looks over Clayton’s
shoulder. All turn to see a Hummer vehicle, covered in dust and the red weed,
but still basically intact.

                          COLLINS
           Hallehluea.

Collins takes off, power-walking towards the hummer, followed closely by
Clayton and Sarah, tip toeing over bodies and debris.
                          CLAYTON
           So how do you know all this?

                          COLLINS
           I’m on the inside, man, military police. They don’t tell us
           anything until it’s too late, unfortunately.

Sarah stops in her tracks as Clayton and Collins continue towards the Hummer.
She looks curiously at the ground at her feet and kneels down and moves some
of the red weed around to reveal a small girl’s t-shirt, nearly identical to
the one she’s wearing. She picks it up, letting flakes of dust fall to the
ground. She pants and drops the t-shirt, then runs to catch up.

Upon reaching the hummer, Clayton and Sarah stand back as Collins forces the
door open, ripping off some of the red weed.

NEAR CLAYTON, in the b.g., Collins searches the inside of the Hummer. From
inside the Hummer.

                          COLLINS
           Where are those god-damned keys?

Clayton leans down, a few feet from the Hummer is a dust-covered uniform. He
searches it until he finally produces a set of keys. Sarah screams, Clayton
freezes.

                             SARAH
           Ahhh!

WIDE SHOT: Collins is holding a pistol to Clayton’s head. The mood becomes
eerily silent.

Collins stands his ground.

                          COLLINS
                  (nervously)
           I’m going to need those keys, Forrester.

Clayton hesitates, panting.

                             COLLINS
           Now!

                             CLAYTON
           Okay, okay...

He stands up, slowly.

                          COLLINS
           Drop ‘em, put them on the ground.

Clayton drops the keys to the ground, hiding them among the red weed.
Collins, never taking his pistol off Clayton’s head, and reaches into the
weed for the keys, he grabs them.

Sarah SNEEZES.
Collins panickly aims the pistol at her, causing her to scream. Clayton
turns, as Collins points the pistol back at him.

                          CLAYTON
                  (nervously)
           Why are you doing this? Why can’t you take us with you.

Collins backs up into the Hummer and starts it, never taking the pistol off
Clayton.

                          COLLINS
           We’re beat, and when all you can do is run, you’re better off
           alone.

The door closes, and the hummer takes off down the road into the forest.

WIDE SHOT: Clayton and Sarah stand alone amidst the debris, clutching each
other tightly. We hear Clayton’s voice.

                          CLAYTON
           We’re going to be alright.
                  (quieter)
           We’re going to be alright.

                          SARAH
           Daddy?

                          CLAYTON
           Yeah, sweetheart?

                          SARAH
           I don’t feel good.

Suddenly, a crackle of thunder, as rain starts to fall from the sky. Clayton,
remembering something, pulls the pistol that he had gotten earlier from his
pocket and throws it to the ground.

A long beat, Clayton and Sarah stand.

CUT TO:

EXT. FOREST ROAD--RAINING--NIGHT

Clayton and Sarah walk along the side of the road, he is holding her,
tightly, comforting her. We see everything, hear nothing, silence. Behind
them, we see a light grow larger, as a string of military vehicles approach.

Clayton stops and waves them off, the convoy stops, a window rolls down, as a
man dressed in military attire and helmet shouts over the pouring rain, which
has become audible.

                          MILITARY MAN
                  (yelling)
           Are you in need of assistance, sir?

INT. MILITARY JEEP--FOREST ROAD--RAINING--NIGHT
Silence.

Clayton sits next to a few military folk and other various refugees, a towel
around him and his daughter, lays sleeping. His face is distant and unsure,
but for a brief second, we see a smile.

The driver turns around and shouts over the rain, which becomes audible.

                          DRIVER
           About an hour, everybody. Keep your heads up.

Suddenly, people start to look out the windows (which are really just gaps in
the tarp) at one side of the road, Clayton looks, too.

P.O.V. CLAYTON: We see a wrecked hummer vehicle lying on the side of the
road, upside down, the fire on its bottom fighting to survive against the
rain.

The car stops, people start chattering, mindlessly, quietly.

Clayton looks outside again.

P.O.V. CLAYTON: Military police rush outside and explore the wrecked vehicle,
they pull out Collins’ body, partly burned, dead. After a bit of examination,
they slip him into a body bag and pull him to one of the other vehicles in
the convoy.

The cars start to move again. Clayton, eyes wide, looks to the driver.

                             CLAYTON
                     (to front)
           Hey!

No one responds.

                            CLAYTON
           Hey!

Nothing.

Clayton looks around, slightly panicked, he lays Sarah down on the seat and
pushes his way through the confined space full of people until he reaches the
front. He taps on the driver’s soldier.

                          DRIVER
                  (preoc)
           Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to sit down.

Clayton, panicked.

                          CLAYTON
           You don’t understand, we can’t keep going this way, we’re heading
           straight for them!

                            DRIVER
           Sir, please...
                          CLAYTON
           That car back there wasn’t on its way to Greensboro it was on its
           way out of it!

The driver starts to argue, but a military policeman sitting in the passenger
seat cuts in.

                          MP
           Sir, if you do not go back and sit down, I will ask you to leave
           this truck.

There is a long beat, Clayton just stares at him, befuddled.

                           CLAYTON
                   (quietly)
           Okay.

Clayton sinks back into the crowd and finds Sarah, sitting up, awake,
drinking something from a cup. A woman, sporting a backpack Sylvia, sits next
to her, comfortinh her.

Clayton stops and stares, Sarah points to him.

                          SARAH
           There he is.

Sylvia looks up at Clayton.

                          SYLVIA
           Are you her father?

Beat.

                          CLAYTON
           Yes.

Sylvia feels Sarah’s head, then slips a first-aid kit into her backpack.

                          SYLVIA
           I’m Sylvia Gardocki, I was a nurse in Greensboro, before, you
           know.

Her voice, and eyes, taper off. Clayton remains silent.

                          SYLVIA
           You’re daughter has a touch of the flu, I gave her some theraflu,
           which should help a little. Being out in the rain didn’t help
           much, either.

Beat.

                          SYLVIA
           Anyway, I think it was by the grace of god you got picked up,
           because she needs rest, lots of it.

Clayton snaps from his trance and starts to wrap a towel around Sarah.
                          CLAYTON
           Well that’s too bad, because we’re leaving.

                            SYLVIA
                    (surprised)
           What?!

Clayton looks back towards the driver.

                             CLAYTON
           Stop the car!

Everyone looks towards him, quiet, curious chatter erupts.

                          DRIVER
                  (looking back)
           Excuse me?

                             SARAH
           Daddy...

Her voice is drowned out by everything else going on.

                          SYLVIA
           You cannot take her out in that storm, you could kill her!

Clayton finishes wrapping the towel around Sarah and looks up at Sylvia. He
speaks so only one person can hear him.

                          CLAYTON
                  (quietly)
           This convoy is heading right along the paths of the machines.

                          SYLVIA
           How could you possibly know that?

                          CLAYTON
           Trust me, I know. If we keep going, we’re going to run right into
           them, as a matter of fact, I bet they’re waiting for us.

                             SYLVIA
           This is insane.

Beat.

Clayton just stares her down. He grabs Sarah’s hand, looks at Sylvia.

                          CLAYTON
           I’m planning on living as long as I can.

He leaves Sarah and moves up towards the front again, he looks at the driver.

                             CLAYTON
           Stop the truck.

                            DRIVER
                    (concerned)
             What? Why?

                            CLAYTON
             We’re getting off.

                            DRIVER
             We?

Sarah appears, grasps Clayton’s hand.

                            SARAH
             I don’t want to go, daddy.

Both the drivers’, and the passenger’s eyes light up with concern.

                            MP
             Oh, no, I’m not letting you take her out in this storm.

                            CLAYTON
             Then turn the car around.

                            DRIVER
             That’s not going to happen, either. Now sit back, relax, and
             chill, we’re almost to the docks.

Long beat.

Clayton stares, hesitates. Sarah tugs on his arm, people in the back look on
with curiosity. He and Sarah both begin to sink back into the crowd.

                            DRIVER
                    (to Clayton)
             That’s right, just calm down, sir.

Back at their seats, Clayton sits down next to Sylvia.

                            SYLVIA
             You’re not leaving...?

Clayton looks to her, his voice quiet.

                            CLAYTON
             No.

Sarah is beginning to fall asleep on Clayton’s side.

FOCUS ON: Clayton squeezes Sarah’s hand, tightly.

A beat. Sylvia sits, relaxed, much calmer than Clayton, who seems to be in a
trance. He speaks, his voice low, eerie, accompanied by a strange, quiet
chuckle.

                            CLAYTON
             You know, I never thought I’d live to see the end of the world.

Beat.
Sylvia stares at him.

                          CLAYTON
           But then again, it’s not really the end of the world, is it?

Another beat.

                          CLAYTON
           It’s just the end of us.

As if on que, the dim lights go out and the car stops, chatter erupts, much
louder than usual. The driver bangs on the steering wheel.

                          DRIVER
           Come on! What the hell is wrong with this thing?!

While everyone else looks around in a panic, Sylvia and Clayton look directly
at each other.

                          CLAYTON
           Told you.

The military policeman in the passenger seat gets out. Clayton looks through
the window.

P.O.V. CLAYTON: Through the window, the MP talks to other MP’s, apparently,
the entire convoy has stopped working.

The passenger comes back onto the truck and announces.

                          MP
           Alright, folks, looks like we’re walking.

People start to (hesitantly) file out.

EXT. FOREST ROAD--RAINING--NIGHT

Refugees walk along the road, chattering, covering their heads from the rain
with whatever they can. Eventually, they reach an opening, the edge of the
forest, to reveal a town, with several other people, hundreds of them,
refugees, all heading towards what appear to be three enomrous ferry boats,
all lined up on some docks at the edge of the town, loading up with people.

EXT. DOCK TOWN--NOT RAINING--NIGHT

The rain has subsided.

People walk along as gentle christmas music plays in the background, the
entire place seems to be overrun by the military, who direct people to and
fro, much like at Greensboro.

There are signs posted everywhere, missing signs, with pictures of people and
phone numbers written upon them. There is even one of a missing cat.

Sylvia, Clayton, and Sarah walk side-by-side-by-side. We can hear people
talking, we pick up on a man talking to someone else.
                             MAN
              I heard cars and things were just shutting down at random, could
              happen anywhere, has something to do with electrical interferences
              or something.

Clayton looks over to hear another man talking.

                             MAN #2
              They’re taking people up in the ships, probably probing them or
              something.

INT./EXT. BRIDGE--FERRY--NIGHT

The captain of one of the ferries looks out at the crowd of people, then at
the boat, which is filled to full capacity. He picks up a microphone.

                             CAPTAIN
                     (into mic)
              Johnny, how many can you fit?

A response.

                              JOHNNY
                      (filtered)
              None.

The captain speaks again.

                             CAPTAIN
                     (into mic)
              Vasquez, how many?

                             VASQUEZ
                     (filtered)
              Too many.

He hangs up the microphone and sighs. Picking up a megaphone, he stands out
on a platform overlooking the docks.

                             CAPTAIN
                     (loud over megaphone)
              Excuse me, everybody.

Everybody stops their chatter, looks up at him.

                             CAPTAIN
                     (loud over megaphone)
              We are filled to capacity and will be departing within a few
              minutes. We will return in approximately on hour, so please, your
              patience is appreciated, thank you.

We can instantly hear people in the crowd start to complain. The captain goes
over to several controls, near several other technicians, and pulls some
levers.

EXT. DOCKS--TOWN--NIGHT
The three ferries slowly start to pull away from the docks.

Suddenly, we hear something. Everyone looks around, the mood is quiet, all we
hear is a strange, humming sound, which seems to be growing louder.

BY CLAYTON.

                             SYLVIA
              What’s going on?

Suddenly, something flies out from over the trees in the distance, and
whatever it is, it’s on fire. Chatter erupts once more as we see that it is a
small biplane, falling from the sky like a meteor, completely ablaze.

People scramble about as the plane swoops down and crashes into the water
below. The mood silences as the plane sinks, releasing bolts of steam and a
sizzling sound.

Eventually, it dips below the surface and into oblivion. People look on,
curious, and then, we hear it...

BOOM!

The sound thunders through the trees, scaring off birds, and then, from out
of the trees, emerges a giant Martian-tripod. Now the chaos begins, as people
start to run for the ferries.

INT. BRIDGE--FERRY--NIGHT

The captain sees the Martian-tripod in the distance, looking over the people
below like an exterminator looks at a roach infestation.

He points aggressively to his crew.

                                CAPTAIN
              Full power, go!

EXT. TOWN DOCKS--NIGHT

BY CLAYTON.

                                CLAYTON
              Come on!

He grabs Sarah and breaks off into a run, his free hand grasping Sylvia’s.
Sylvia looks back at the massive tripod, it is the first ime she’s seen them,
as evidenced by her eyes.

The three maneuver through the crowd towards the fleeing ferries.

ZOOM UP: Another tripod emerges next to the other one, it too begins scanning
the crowd. Finally, the snake-like tentacles emerge from the head.

Everybody stops at the sound of a loud droning, and looks up at the monsters.

A long, tense beat.
ZAP!

The now familiar sound of electrical zapping fills our ears as the two
Martian-tripods have a hay-day firing up people below, watching them sizzle.

Sarah screams, as do many other people randomly.

Clayton, Sarah, and Sylvia reach the crowd on the actual docks and start
running along, chasing one of the ferries as it prepares to leave the slip.
Clayton leaves Sylvia’s hand for a moment, forcing her off screen. He waves
wildly as the people on the ferry just watch the chaos in disbelief.

                          CLAYTON
           Hey! Hey! Stop the boat, let us on! Hey!

He turns back to Sylvia to see...

Her clothes lay on the wood of the dock, covered in white powder, signaling
death. Clayton stands for a minute, Sarah looks around, panicked as people
push by, oblivious to her and her father’s very existence.

                          SARAH
           Daddy!

Clayton snaps out of it and starts running, when suddenly, the docks directly
behind him erupt in an explosion of wood, as a third Martian-tripod rises
from the depths, smashing through the dock, pushing several people into the
water.

The docks separate, and begin to sink, Clayton, along with many other people,
are trapped on a quickly-sinking raft of wooden dock.

The third tripod takes to zapping and grabbing people just as its two
brothers are. Then, in an instant, all three tripods point to different
ferries and ZAP away, incinerating people and setting fire to the decks.
They, too, quickly begin to sink.

Suddenly, a few scared people push by Clayton, knocking him and Sarah into
the water.

EXT. UNDER WATER--NIGHT

Under water, Clayton struggles with a squirming Sarah, as we can see the
entire length of the third, submerged tripod. Metal tentacles reach down into
the water and grab people, while lasers rip through, zapping others. Somehow,
Clayton and Sarah manage to surface.

EXT. RIVER--NIGHT

Clayton grabs a piece of floating wood, Sarah grabs it, as well. Clayton
speaks, spitting out water as he does.

                          CLAYTON
           Kick, honey, I need you to kick.

She is tired, and befuddled, but kicks. Both start kicking towards the
opposite shore of the river. Suddenly, from behind them, the submerged
Martian-tripod releases a tentacle, heading straight for them. It almost
reaches them, when the plane that sank earlier re-emerges in a shower of
bubbles, intersecting the tentacle’s path.

The tentacle, confused, backs off and grabs a flailing person nearby. The
plane sinks once again, as it was just releasing an air bubble.

EXT. OPPOSITE SHORE--NIGHT

Clayton, Sarah, and a handful of others wash up on the muddy shore, a few
hundred yards from the chaotic massacre across the river. We can clearly see
it in the b.g.

Clayton rolls over, breathing heavily, exhausted, and then, leans, to see
that Sarah isn’t breathing at all. His eyes show both anxiety and fear.

                             CLAYTON
           Sarah? Sarah?!

People gather around as he gets on his knees.

He looks around at the small, gathering crowd, his eyes teary.

                          CLAYTON
                  (tired)
           CP-does anyone know CP-...CPR!

No one says a word.

                             CLAYTON
           No, god!

Instinctively, he breathes into her mouth and pumps on her chest.

                          CLAYTON
           Come on! Come on!

She doesn’t come to. Trying again, more panicked, more anxious, finally, she
chokes up water, coughing, crying. Clayton, teary-eyed, embraces her.

                          CLAYTON
                  (panting)
           That’s it, baby, that’s it. Come back...come back.

PAN UP: People, only a few survivors, have encircled Clayton and Sarah, while
in the distance, we have an eerily beautiful view of the Martian-tripods
destroying the docks, the people, and the sinking, ablaze ferry boats.

CUT TO:

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE--DAY

It is a brisk, mountainous country side, the next day, with farmhouses
scattered about. A group of refugees, including Clayton and Sarah, walk,
tattered and beat, along a dirt road.

Clayton stops, letting other refugees pass. He is looking at something in the
distance.

P.O.V. CLAYTON: In the distance, there is a family hastily leaving a
farmhouse, with packed clothes and such. They hop in a station wagon and it
takes off down the road.

On the road, people shout out at the vehicle’s presence, and many take to
chasing it.

Clayton, on the other hand, looks at the now abandoned house.

                             CLAYTON
                     (to Sarah)
              Come on.

They move quickly towards the house, Clayton looks round to make sure nobody
is watching him enter.

INT. FARM HOUSE--DAY

Clayton enters, turns to Sarah.

                             CLAYTON
              Close the door...lock it.

Sarah does.

Clayton, looking around.

                             CLAYTON
              Nice place.

It is very country-ish, with a cow skin on the wall and Texan-like tidbits
about. The living room is the first room, with a couch and a television set.
Clayton immediately turns for the remote and turns the television on, only to
reveal and completely silent “WE APOLOGIZE FOR TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES”
screen.

                             SARAH
              I have to go to the bathroom.

                             CLAYTON
                     (preoc)
              Yeah, try upstairs. Somewhere, I don’t know.

Sarah takes off upstairs. Clayton flips off the television and enters the
kitchen.

INT. KITCHEN--FARMHOUSE--DAY

It is a mess, it seems as if things were prepared in a hurry. Clayton moves
over to the refrigerator and opens it. He smiles and pulls out a beer.

                             CLAYTON
                     (quietly)
              Oh, thank god.
He opens and takes a few swigs, then moves over and starts going through
drawers. Eventually, he reaches a drawer with several types of steak knives
and butcher knives. He picks up and examines a large butcher knife, his
reflection shows clear and true.

Suddenly, his face lights up, he drops the knife on the counter and feels
around his back, and pulls out the pistol from earlier, from Greensboro.

He holds it upside down and watches as water pours out of it. Leaving it to
dry on the counter, he leaves the room.

INT. LIVING ROOM--DAY

Clayton sits down on the couch and lies back, sore and tired. We hear water
running in the background from a toilet flush, and Sarah comes walking
downstairs. She stops in the middle, looks at Clayton.

                             SARAH
           I threw up.

Sighing, Clayton gets up.

INT. KITCHEN--DAY

Clayton looks through drawers, Sarah watches from the background.

                          CLAYTON
                  (preoc)
           Let’s see, what do we have...

He produces a packet of TheraFlu powdered drink mix.

                             CLAYTON
           Here, TheraFlu.

                          SARAH
           That stuff tastes nasty.

Clayton turns, stares, then sighs.

                             CLAYTON
           Okay.

He throws the packet over his shoulder, it lands randomly, somewhere in the
b.g. Continues looking through drawers. Finally, waves his hands off.

                          CLAYTON
           Well, looks like you’re staying sick then.

Beat.

                          SARAH
           I feel a little better now anyway.

Turns, looks at her, smiles.

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE--DUSK
The sun is setting, the abandoned house Clayton and Sarah are hiding in is
still, unnoticed by the passing refugees.

INT. LIVING ROOM--ABANDONED HOUSE--NIGHT

Clayton lays asleep on the couch, Sarah is curled up asleep on a loveseat.
Their faces are being lit up by the “TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES” screen on the
television.

FOCUS ON:

Clayton is grasping a flashlight.

All appears to be calm, when...

A horse statue mounted atop the television falls to the ground. Clayton’s
eyes open, as now, it becomes obvious that everything in the house, the house
itself, is vibrating.

The lights go out.

                           SARAH
            Daddy!

                           CLAYTON
            Hold on!

He runs over to the door and opens it, stands back at the view.

REVERSE WIDE SHOT: Through the door, we can see that the sky seems to be on
fire. Meteors, enormous and glowing, are falling to the Earth like a meteor
shower, one in particular lands on a crowd of people in the distance. Then,
we can see people being vaporized, as the Martian tripods come into view.

Clayton slams the door shut and locks the deadbolt, a look of anxiety on his
face.

INT. KITCHEN--NIGHT

He runs to the kitchen and grabs a loaf of bread and some bottled water from
the refrigerator. Exits.

INT. LIVING ROOM--NIGHT

                           SARAH
            What’s happening?!

                           CLAYTON
            Come on!

He grabs her hand.

                           SARAH
            Where are we going?!

CUT TO:
INT. STORM CELLAR--NIGHT

                               CLAYTON
             Get in, get in!

The door opens and Clayton and Sarah fly in. Inside, we see that the cellar
is about mid-sized, with shelves of clutter and cardboard boxes lying about.

                            CLAYTON
                    (to Sarah)
             Get down!

Sarah runs and hides behind some boxes. Clayton shuts the door to the cellar
and locks it. Clayton runs and hides with Sarah, the camera stays on the
door.

Behind it, we can see an orange glow through the cracks, fire, and the sound
of people screaming, including the sounds of thunderous footsteps of the
Martian-tripods and the zapping of the lasers.

Slowly FADE TO BLACK.

FADE IN:

It is morning, we can see that the edges of the door have been charred and
burnt. Outside, silence, only the gray of the sky seeps in through the burnt
cracks.

We can hear heavy breathing in the f.g., as Clayton comes into the screen.
Clayton feels the door knob, we hear a sizzle, and he quickly retracts his
hand, with a slight yelp of pain.

He turns to Sarah, who sits huddled behind some boxes.

                            CLAYTON
                    (quietly)
             I’m going to go look around, don’t move, don’t speak, don’t do
             anything, until I come back. Do you understand me?

She nods hesitantly. Clayton turns.

                               SARAH
             Daddy?

Clayton turns back to her.

                            SARAH
             What if you don’t come back?

Long beat.

He doesn’t answer.

INT. LIVING ROOM--DAY

Clayton walks out into the open and quietly shuts the door to the cellar
behind him. Takes in the setting; everything is burnt, mangled, destroyed.
The couch is knocked over and charred, and shattered wood lays everywhere. We
can hear something in the background, a constant, non-stop sound, like a
pistons in a factory. Above, the roof has been torn apart, exposing a
strangely-reddish sky.

Clayton moves over debris slowly until he reaches the door to the house,
which busted ajar, but not completely open. Slowly, he pushes against it, and
steps out a bit.

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE--DAY

The first thing we notice, is that a deep red, almost orange, tint has
blanketed the entire region. The red weed is dominant, everywhere, and
pulsating wildly. It almost looks like Mars.

                           CLAYTON
                   (to self)
            They brought Mars with them.

Far off in the distance, we can see Martian-tripods scanning the landscape,
spewing out clouds of black smoke.

CRASH!

From an enormous mechanical leg steps over the house, nipping the rooftop,
throwing debris. Clayton hides behind the door and sticks his head out to
watch as a titanic handling-machine steps completely over the house and out
into the open.

Unlike the Martian-tripods, it has four legs, all connected to a central
part. One of the more dominant features are two large, glass containers on
the central part, each filled with a sloshing red liquid. The handling-
machine squats low to the ground, and then, two mechanical tentacles shoot
out and lift up a truck nearby.

Under the flipped truck is a screaming woman.

Like an attacking snake, the tentacles grab her and pull her directly under
the central part. She screams wildly, but to no avail. In a few instances, a
metal cylinder descends from the central part and encapsulates the woman,
then, we hear a final scream as she is sucked up into it. We hear a strange
grinding-like sound echoing from the cylinder, and the red liquid in the
glass containers fills up a little and sloshes a bit.

The liquid is blood. The handling machine collects human remains.

FOCUS ON:

Clayton covers his mouth in disgust and breathes heavily, but silently, from
his hiding place behind the door.

The handling-machine extends upward once again and starts off into the
distance.

We see the door of the house slowly close shut.
INT. LIVING ROOM--DAY

Clayton lays his back against the door and pants.

SQUEAK!

The tension rises, as a series of squeaking sounds usher from the ceiling.
Clayton covers his mouth to stay quiet, because someone, or something, is
walking around upstairs.

It sounds like two sets of footsteps, maybe three, but they seem to be moving
about rapidly for a moment, then stopping briefly...searching!

Clayton follows the sounds with his eyes as they move towards the stairs. He
quickly runs and gets directly next to the stairs, so whatever’s coming down
can’t see him unless they intentionally look down.

His heart thumps wildly, sweat drips from his face, as he looks up.

P.O.V. CLAYTON: Looking up from Clayton’s huddled position, we see a hideous
blue hand, with three long fingers, each with a suction cup at the tip,
grasps the burnt railing. It feels around a bit, then retracts.

WITH CLAYTON. We cannot see the creature’s, but we can see their shadows
moving along the opposite wall, all Clayton can clearly see. We hear them,
there are two of them, making faint grunts as communication. The Martians
move directly for the kitchen, as indicted by the shadows.

FOCUS ON: Clayton’s eyes shift in their direction.

Hugging the wall, he crawls along the stairs until he reaches the end, but
keeps low to stay hidden. His eyes close tightly as he collects his bearings,
then slowly, ever slowly, peeks his head around the corner, into the kitchen.

P.O.V. CLAYTON: We cannot see the Martians, but can hear them, moving about
and searching. Debris flies everywhere as the Martians dig through drawers
and such, all totally unseen by Clayton. Then, a strange leg and foot, steps
into view, its foot looks much like the hand, while the leg is long, and
skinny.

Clayton immediately retracts his head and hugs the wall desperately. He
watches as the shadows move towards the door to the cellar. We can hear the
door knob turn, and the door open.

Clayton’s face shows expressions of panic and terror. As the shadows descend
into the cellar, Clayton, hesitantly, stands up. He looks towards the
kitchen.

P.O.V. CLAYTON: On the floor is a knife block, half-empty, but also half-
full, of steak knives, butter knives, and a butcher knife.

INT. CELLAR--DAY

Sarah lays behind a box, asleep, unaware of anything going on. Her face is
pale and she is breathing heavily, sweat drips from her in rivers.

PAN UP: In the b.g., we see the dark silhouettes of the two Martians. From
what we can see, they are just heads, plain and simple. Heads mounted upon
three flexible legs, that also serve as hands. Now we know where they got the
designs for the Martian-tripods from. But we still cannot see them entirely,
just dark, hazy silhouettes.

Both enter the room, grunting at each other. They feel the walls with their
sucker-like hands/feet and move deeper inside. They start going through boxes
and other things, then throwing items about as useless junk.

FOCUS ON: Sarah’s eyes open slowly.

She lifts her head above the box line, upon seeing the shadowy figures, she
dips herself back behind them, scared to death, her breaths heavy, her eyes
wide.

Suddenly, everything goes silent.

We see the shadows overtake Sarah as she starts crying quietly, he eyes look
up. A blue, three-fingered hand slowly descends and feels around the floor in
her proximity. All we see are the shadows on the opposite wall. The mood;
tense.

Then, something else. Another shadow joins the two Martians. We hear various
grunts and moans, as we see the stabbing motion of a knife with the shadows.
Sarah closes her eyes tightly.

Eventually, the struggle stops.

PAN UP: Sarah lifts her head above the boxes to see Clayton, standing like
the lone ranger above the dead bodies of the two Martians, like the lone
ranger. A knife gripped in his hand, dirt and sweat covering him, his
breathing heavy, his eyes deep.

                          SARAH
                  (very quietly)
           Daddy...

Clayton drops the knife and runs over to embrace his daughter.

INT. LIVING ROOM--DAY

Clayton and Sarah emerge from the cellar. The mechanical, factory-like sounds
from outside still radiate from outside. Sarah drifts towards a shattered
window, Clayton, panicked, grabs her.

                          CLAYTON
           No, no, Sarah, stay away from the windows, keep inside, keep
           tight, out of view.

Grasps her hand tightly. It is growing dark.

INT. KITCHEN--DUSK

Walking around, Clayton grabs a few unhurt canned foods. Sarah finds some
undamaged bottles of water in a nearby pantry.

                          CLAYTON
                  (to Sarah)
           Hold on to those, honey.

Clayton creeps near a window hanging over the kitchen sink, he pulls back the
tattered curtains revealing a paralyzing view: the red weed is glowing all
over the landscape, an eerie, red glow. Earth truly is beginning to look like
Mars. A strange red fog billows in the atmosphere as suddenly, we hear...

BOOM!

Over a hill in the distance, we see a Martian-tripod slowly approaching.

Clayton lets the curtains slip back into place as the walls vibrate loosely.
Quickly, he drops the food and power-walks over to Sarah, grabbing her by the
arm and virtually yanking her out of the kitchen. She yelps slightly, but the
sound is swallowed up by the thunderous beats of the approaching tripod.

INT. LIVING ROOM--DUSK

They walk quickly to the basement door, when suddenly an enormous JOLT fills
the screen and our ears, as Sarah and Clayton both fall forward onto their
stomachs, writhing in pain.

An, as if on queue, everything stops. The factory-like sounds, the tripod’s
footsteps, the violent trembling of the walls, even the last ounces of
daylight trickling in from outside, all come to an abrupt end.

Silence hangs eerily in the air. Clayton rolls over and sits up, breathing
heavily. Sarah whimpers. Clayton caresses and embraces her.

NIGHT.

Suddenly, a light shines down from above, like a heavenly spotlight,
apparently shining through the gaping hole in the roof.

                          SARAH
                  (panicked)
           What’s that?!

                           CLAYTON
                   (aggressively)
           Sshh!

Clayton covers her mouth as both crouch towards the overturned couch and hide
behind it. Both peek their heads over the top, focusing with both fear and
curiosity at the strange spotlight.

Suddenly, a we hear an inhuman hissing sound, almost mechanical, as we
finally see the Martian snake-probe come into view. It is long, seemingly
endless, with a mechanical glass eye at the end, alien-floodlights on either
side of the eye light its way.

It is a searcher, checking the place out.

The snake-probe slithers down from the spotlight and looks first into the
kitchen, then swings around into the living room.
CLOSE SHOT: Light from the snake-probe floods over the couch as Clayton and
Sarah huddle behind it, a look of fear in their eyes.

Back with the probe, it heads for the kitchen, curiously, looking back and
forth.

Back with Clayton, we see the snake-probe looking around the kitchen in the
b.g. Clayton is looking around, panicky, while Sarah just stares into the
distance, petrified, like the look of someone who’s given up.

Clayton waves his hand in front of her face, her eyes remain wide, her breath
still.

                          CLAYTON
                  (quietly)
           Sarah, Sarah!

He touches her cheek, her eyes close.

                          CLAYTON
                  (quietly)
           Sarah, listen to me, listen to me. We’ve come too far, too far to
           give up now. Keep going, keep going.

She looks at him...

                             SARAH
                  (quiet)
           Daddy...

Her eyes point to something behind him. He turns, to see that the snake-probe
is moving slowly towards the open door to the cellar. Clayton’s eyes widen as
he remembers the dead Martians in the cellar.

                              CLAYTON
                      (to self)
           Shit.

He looks around, panicked, as the snake-probe moves at a faster pace towards
the open cellar door. Shuffling around on the ground, Clayton finds a piece
of debris and hurtles it to the ceiling on the opposite side of the room.

Noticing this, the snake-probe takes off in the debris’ direction. Clayton
grabs Sarah’s arm and crouches around the couch, the probe examines the area
Clayton and Sarah were once huddled, and looks around.

By the cellar door, Clayton grabs Sarah, lifts her up, and then, very
carefully, steps over the mechanical body of the snake-probe. Without
warning, the probe maneuvers, forcing Clayton to lean against the wall as
tightly as possible.

The metal surface of the probe comes within an inch of touching him. He sucks
in his gut and stands up straighter on his toes, until finally, the probe
retracts. Clayton breathes a sigh of relief and relaxes.

Then, taking advantage of the probe exploring the other end of the living
room, he slowly reaches his free hand for the cellar door. He flexes his
muscles and grabs the doorknob, then, slowly, pulls the door shut.

Suddenly, the burnt hinges on the cellar door snap, and the door breaks from
its frame and falls, in charred pieces, to the ground. Everything happens in
an instant; the probe whips its head around as Clayton and Sarah dart for the
kitchen.

The probe turns a corner, completely missing the cellar door and takes off
for the kitchen.

INT. KITCHEN--NIGHT

The probe stops abruptly, examining the kitchen.

P.O.V. PROBE: we see the floodlight beams illuminating parts of the kitchen.
The screen moves back and forth, seeing nothing but emptiness.

Although it is difficult to visualize, the probe seems to display a type of
confusion. It looks back and forth again, and then starts to retract itself
back into the living room.

INT. LIVING ROOM--NIGHT

The probe turns itself around and heads for the entrance to the cellar. It
enters, its snake-like mechanical body extending into the cellar. In the
b.g., we see Clayton’s arm reach out from behind a cabinet door (he and Sarah
are hiding in one of the cabinets) with a pan. He throws the pan across the
room, causing a loud metal clank, his hand immediately retracts.

Hearing the sound, the probe quickly retracts from the cellar and zips into
the kitchen.

INT. KITCHEN--NIGHT

The probe looks around again, but this time, spotting something.

FOCUS ON: The cabinet door behind which Clayton and Sarah hide is slightly
ajar.

The probe moves closer, closer, even closer, peering at the open cabinet
door. Closer still, until...

We hear a loud, mechanical roar, like a call, echoes throughout the house.
The probe looks back, and the floodlights turn off. methodically, the probe
retracts from the kitchen and slips like a spaghetti strand up into the
spotlight. The spotlight clicks off.

We still hear the mechanical factory sound outside, but other than that, the
silence is eerie.

The cabinet door opens slightly, revealing a shivering Clayton and Sarah.

INT. LIVING ROOM--DAWN

It is still dark out, but cloudy rays of light are beginning to shimmer
through into daylight.
Clayton and Sarah lay asleep on the couch, huddled together. We see that the
red weed is growing all around the walls, the mechanical sound outside is
still going on.

Orange rays of morning sunlight creep in, illuminating Clayton’s face, waking
him. He rustles around and stands up, leaving Sarah on the couch. He covers
her up with a blanket.

INT. KITCHEN--DAWN

Clayton enters. Over by the sink, he turns on the water and splashes some on
his face. He then notices something, his hands have turned red, in fact, his
face has turned red.

FOCUS ON: The water flowing from the faucet is tinted with a deep cardinal
red.

Clayton turns the water off and rushes over to a nearby, broken, mirror.
Staring at himself and the red water all over his face. Hastily, he uses his
shirt to wipe it off, and pants heavily.

Back at the sink, he pushes back charred curtains revealing a broken window,
but beyond, it is completely covered by the red weed, blocking any view. Only
thin rays of orange sunlight peak through the gaps in the red weed.

Suddenly, we hear Sarah’s scream ushering horridly from the living room.
Clayton whips his head around.

REVERSE ANGLE: From behind Clayton, we see the snake-probe has returned, and
is examining the living room, with Sarah in it.

Clayton looks at the pistol sitting on the kitchen counter and grabs it.

INT. LIVING ROOM--DAWN

The snake-probe has Sarah cornered, she screams. Clayton kicks the mechanical
body of the snake-probe, which is hanging down from the tear in the roof. The
probe spins around and faces Clayton, menacingly, and darts for him.

Clayton falls down on his back as two mechanical claws zip out like a hand
around the eye of the snake-probe’s eye. In a last, desperate act, Clayton
aims the gun and fires a shot into the eye of the probe.

It shatters, and its floodlights go off. The claws retract back into the body
and the snake-probe quickly retracts and sucks up into the roof. Clayton
looks up.

P.O.V. CLAYTON: The probe retracts into the bottom of a Martian-tripod, which
is apparently standing right over the house.

The walls begin to buckle as we hear a loud mechanical droning.

                             SARAH
                     (scream)
           Daddy!

Clayton grabs Sarah and kicks open the front door.
EXT. COUNTRYSIDE--DAY

It is chaos outside.

People-refugees-scatter everywhere as Martian-tripods skewer the countryside
zapping people left and right.

Clayton, clutching Sarah, leaps over the stop and out into the front yard.

PAN UP: A tripod is straddling the house. The top, head portion spins around
and looks towards the fleeing Clayton.

The tripod prepares to fire when a group of other fleeing people pass in
front of Clayton. The tripod zaps them instead, turning them into clouds of
white dust.

Clayton trips and falls, Sarah falls, too. From his back, looks up at the
tripod. It prepares to fire when suddenly...BOOM! The side of it explodes in
a blast of flame as a group of fighter planes fly overhead. Another plane
fires another missile that strikes the side of the tripod, making it lose its
balance and fall over. It topples over the house, crushing it.

Military vehicles bursts through the trees and over the hills. People run
amuck, military folk fire futilely at other rampaging tripods. The scene
slows down a bit as Clayton looks around, almost drunken.

He yells, but the sound is faded, as is every other sound around.

                          CLAYTON
                  (faded yell)
           Sarah! Sarah!

He stands up and walks, staggers, his lucidity weakening.

                             CLAYTON
           Sarah...

His voice tapers off as...

                             SARAH
           Daddy!

Looking up, we see Sarah being carried off by two soldiers towards a large
military truck carrying a load of refugees.

Clayton runs over to the refugee truck. Sarah is hoisted into the crowd,
overfilling over the side. Some people are falling over onto the ground. The
truck itself is surrounded by a ring of soldiers holding desperate people
back.

Clayton tries to pound through the ring, before being pushed back by a
solider.

                          CLAYTON
           Hey, I have to get on that truck, my daughter’s on that truck!
                          SOLDIER
           Get back now, back!

Clayton pushes farther.

                          CLAYTON
           My daughter, she’s on the truck!

The soldier pushes him back, he falls face-first to the ground.

FOCUS ON: Clayton breathes heavily, behind him we see people still trying to
get through the barrier onto the truck.

The lights on the truck turn on as the engine roars to life.

In a last, desperate act, Clayton grips his pistol and stands up. He power-
walks to the soldier that pushed him down.

                             SOLDIER
           Get back!

Clayton jabs the edge of the pistol into the soldier’s gut. He leans in close
and speaks, gritting through his teeth.

                          CLAYTON
           My daughter is on that truck.

They stare at each other for a second, then, the soldier steps out of the
way. Clayton slips his pistol back into the side of his pants and bursts
through the ring of soldiers.

Unfortunately, the refugee truck speeds off over the hills, leaving him in
the dust.

                             CLAYTON
           No!
                    (beat)
           No!

He becomes teary.

The world seems to spin as he stops, and lets the world pass by. In the b.g.,
the battle wages, as people are incinerated everywhere. The ring of soldiers
scatters as do the refugees that were trying to break through them.

Clayton gets back his lucidity as he spots a hummer vehicle, a soldier stands
next to it, crouching low, attempting to shout orders into a radio over the
sound of the chaos in the b.g.

By the hummer vehicle, Clayton approaches the soldier, shouting to keep his
voice above the chaos.

                             CLAYTON
           Hey! Hey!

The soldier looks at him.
                          CLAYTON
           Where is that truck going?!

                          SOLDIER
           What?!

                          CLAYTON
           Where are you taking those people?!

He points to the refugee truck speeding away in the distance. The soldier
shakes his head ‘no.’

                          CLAYTON
           Where’s it going?!

He shakes his head ‘no,’ once more.

Clayton, frustrated, pulls out the pistol.

                          CLAYTON
           Where the hell is that truck going?!

Beat.

The solider yells.

                          SOLDIER
           I...I-

                          CLAYTON
           Where?!

                          SOLDIER
           I think Pittsburgh!

Another beat.

A tripod zaps a fighter plane into oblivion in the background. Clayton jumps
into the hummer and starts the engine. The soldier turns around, his arms
spread.

                          SOLDIER
           Hey!

ZAP!

The soldier is incinerated by a laser from a tripod.

Clayton’s hummer takes off into the forest, passing by several refugees.
People are zapped left and right as the Clayton’s vehicle takes off into the
distance.

EXT. ROAD TO PITTSBURGH--DAY

The road is deserted, except for the red weed growing everywhere. A large
sign sits in the boulevard on the side of the road, it reads “WELCOME TO
PITTSBURGH,” but is almost illegible because it is covered in the red weed.
Clayton’s stolen hummer vehicle speeds past the sign towards Pittsburgh,
shimmering in the background.

EXT. PITTSBURGH STREETS--DAY

Clayton’s hummer stops suddenly as a crowd of people blocks his way. All the
people are apparently trying to get past a military blockade.

INT. HUMMER--DAY

Clayton grips the steering wheel tight as a few people in the crowd turn to
his car. Suddenly, the window shatters in a spidery web of cracks as people
are, out of nowhere, climbing all over his car, yelling, screaming, kicking
to get in.

EXT. PITTSBURGH STREETS--DAY

The mob has created a mountain of bodies atop the hummer, chaos makes men
animals.

INT. HUMMER--DAY

Clayton struggles to pull out his pistol when suddenly a man’s hand bursts
through the driver’s-side window and grabs Clayton by the shoulder. Glass is
pushed through his clothes, he writhes in pain and drops his pistol to the
floor.

Finally, he reaches down and opens the door.

EXT. PITTSBURGH STREETS--DAY

The driver’s-side door opens and Clayton is pulled out. He is pushed
forcefully though the mob and literally thrown to the ground.

Several people try to get in the hummer as the mob scene grows more intense,
people are in fist fights in the crowd.

All of this is silenced when we suddenly hear the now-familiar call of a
Martian-tripod.

All eyes turn up the street as a 70-foot tall tripod machine stands, staring
at the people below. Now, the fighting in the mob becomes more intense, some
people take for the streets as the military barrage starts firing wildly.

Clayton lays on the ground, barely able to keep his head up, his nose broken
and bleeding.

The tripod moves one leg forward, shakily, then another, before finally, its
guns firing, falls onto a nearby building, crushing it.

Everything seems to go silent.

The mob calms down as people start to move slowly towards the fallen tripod,
it appears still, and stiff, dead.

Military folk start jogging towards it, random ‘come on’s’ and such echo
throughout. Clayton stands upright and grabs the arm of a passing soldier.

                            CLAYTON
             Hey!

                            SOLDIER
                    (hurried)
             I have to go, sir!

Clayton spits up blood, hunching over, begging.

                            CLAYTON
             Refugees...
                    (panting)
             ...where are the refugees...they came earlier, in a truck.

The soldier starts to pull away, uninterested.

                            CLAYTON
             Hey!

Beat.

                            CLAYTON
             My daughter, she was on that truck.

Long beat.

The soldier points down the street at an intersection.

                            SOLDIER
             We have a refugee base set up at a church off Mitchell. Take a
             left, then another left at the intersection.

The soldier rips his arm from Clayton and runs to join the others. Clayton
stares, then breathes deep.

EXT. MITCHEL STREET--DAY

It is quiet, eerily, strangely quiet. Much more quiet than we have become
used to. A beautiful church sits at the intersection, very similar to the one
in Saltsburg at the beginning.

Clayton walks, alone, towards the church. His silhouette is ghostly   along
the deserted street.

We then hear a crackle of thunder as the familiar footsteps of an approaching
Martian-tripod come into full flare. Clayton turns, there is smoke, fire,
chaos ushering over the rooftops in the background. He now runs for the
church.

INT. CHURCH--DAY

It is a packed house.

Panicked people crowd the place, many are praying, others crying, some
looking for loved ones. Clayton looks around, stops a few people.
                          CLAYTON
           Excuse me, I’m looking for my daughter-
                  (beat, another person)
           Hey have you seen-

This person ignores him as well.

His attention turns to a Pastor on his knees praying with several children in
the corner. Clayton’s eyes slowly scan the children, only to reveal that none
of them are his daughter.

He runs to the Pastor, interrupting his prayer.

                          CLAYTON
           Excuse me, I’m looking for a little girl, about seven, brown hair.

The Pastor just stares.

                          CLAYTON
           I’m looking for my daughter.

Smiling, stands.

CUT TO:

In another corner of the room, several cots are set up. On one of them, a man
with a severed hand lays writhing in pain, in another, a woman cries, and
finally, there is one with Sarah, a blanket draped over her. Her face is
pale, sweaty.

                          PASTOR
           Is this your child?

Clayton doesn’t answer.

A thunderous mechanical roar ushers from outside as the Martian-tripod
approaches. People start screaming, panicking. The pastor himself moves away.
The walls begin to buckle and debris falls from the ceiling.

Clayton has tears in his eyes. He leans down, on his knees and grabs his
daughters hand with both of his. He whispers, and strangely, their
conversation dominates all other sounds.

                          CLAYTON
                  (crying)
           Sarah...Sarah...

Her eyes open.

                          SARAH
           Daddy...?

He kisses her hand.

                          CLAYTON
           I’m here, I’m here.
                            SARAH
             Is it almost over?

Beat.

Clayton’s eyes fill up even more.

                            CLAYTON
             Yes, baby, it’s almost over.

Beat.

                             SARAH
             I miss mommy.

                            CLAYTON
             I miss mommy, too.

Beat.

                            CLAYTON
             I am so sorry, I’m so sorry. I know I wasn’t a super dad, that I
             wasn’t always very, very nice, but I, I’m trying.

Long beat.

                            SARAH
             I still love you.

Clayton embraces her as the lights go out and the walls tremble to the point
of breaking, cracks form along the ceiling and the painted glass shatters,
correlating with the screams of the hundreds of people in the church.

                            CLAYTON
             I love you, too, god damn I love you. You’re the reason I, I keep
             going, you’re my whole world. I probably never told you that.

Beat.

                            SARAH
             You didn’t need to.

He stands on his knees by his daughter’s side as the whole world seems to
fall apart around them.

And then, just as quickly as it started, everything stops. The sounds from
outside, the rumbling, even the screaming of the scared people, all stops on
a dime.

Curious chatter rises in the silence.

EXT. MITCHEL STREET--DAY

It is much clearer out, not an orange-glow like before.

We see the door to the church open, and several people walk outside.
ZOOM OUT: The head of a Martian-tripod machine lays broken and busted in the
middle of the intersection. The legs have crushed a few buildings down the
street, but the church was just missed.

People gather curiously around the wrecked tripod head.

Suddenly, a circular door appears to open near the bottom of the tripod head.
Orange liquid spills out as people, especially soldiers, gather around for a
closer look.

Eerily, a veiny, Martian arm reaches out, struggling, and grabs the lip of
the opening. We hear a wheezing coming from inside the tripod. The arm,
suddenly starts to stiffen, and its gloomy blue color turns to a stale gray.
It stops, dead.

A soldier grabs the arm, lifts it, and drops it.

                           SOLDIER
           It’s dead.

Curious chatter erupts as Clayton appears. He jogs over to the dead Martian
arm and examines it. People gather around him, he appears to know what he’s
doing.

                          SOLDIER
           What happened to it?

Clayton rubs over some marks on the Martian’s arm.

                           CLAYTON
           Septicema.

Chatter from the crowd.

                           SOLDIER
           What?

                          CLAYTON
           Septicema...germs. We have immune systems against, against pretty
           much every germ on Earth...

His face lights up.

                           CLAYTON
           But they don’t.
                  (turns to crowd)
           -because they’re not from Earth.

He stands up, looking into the distance. Everyone looks up.

PAN UP: In the distance, Martian-tripods have fallen everywhere.

Clayton smiles.

                           CLAYTON
           They’re sick.
                    (beat)
             They’re dying.

The soldier stares with uneasiness.

                            SOLDIER
             So after all our weapons, couldn’t scratch ‘em-

                            CLAYTON
             Germs. The smallest things God has put on this Earth.

ZOOM OUT: Slowly, moving away. We see Clayton, all   the others, staring at the
fallen tripods. Sarah, looking more healthy, grabs   Clayton’s hand and looks
on with him. We zoom out even farther, passing all   the fallen tripods, and
then farther, and farther, until we are zoomed out   over the entire Earth.

EXT. SPACE

The Earth rotates lightly, a red glow about it.

FADE TO: BLACK.


                              THE END

								
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