1
Hard rain falls from low grey clouds. Down below we see the river. Muddy, slow and powerful, overflowing its banks. In the near distance is the reservoir filled to the maximum, water thundering out of two open gates.
There's a Dam Control Office in the middle of the dam.
We see "NO FEAR" spelled out in stones on one man's roof as the small town of Devils Pitt sits precariously in the looming shadow of the dam.
Storefronts are sandbagged and closed. A sign on one store reads: GONE FISHING. A sign on another: HEY LOOTER. NOTHING OF VALUE HERE. TRY NEXT DOOR. And on the next store: HE'S LYING.
A Church. Beautiful, old, ringed with a five-foot-high wall of sandbags. The floodwater is up to the first level of sandbags.
Cars and pick-up trucks loaded down, are heading out of town on streets covered in the first water of the flood.
On an island in the middle of the street. It's Civil War-era, of a general on a horse, sword held high. The floodwater is over the curb, lapping at the base of statue's pedestal. Near the statue stands the Sheriff. 50s, with soft edges and friendly eyes. He's talking into his radio Sean. "So, are we all going to die?"
Wilbur, the dam control officer, is on the radio with the Sheriff. "Not right now. But I'm gonna have to let out a little more."
Andy and Gwen, two deputies, 30s, are near the Sheriff, shoring up a sandbag wall that has partially collapsed.
"I think my best was when I turned twelve. My Dad set up a treasure hunt. It was really cool." Gwen gushes, then frowns at Andy's disdainful look "Well, it was."
Andy shrugs a "whatever" and pulls a sandbag up out of the water. There's unpleasant-looking muck all over his arms. He drops the sandbag back into the water and shakes off the crud with disgust. "This blows."
"My most awful birthday was sweet sixteen. I had mono. How about you? What was your worst?" Gwen asks as she straightens up and eases her back.
"You kidding?" Andy snorts "You think I could've possibly had a birthday worse than this? What kind of loser do you think I am?"
"Don't answer that, Gwen." The Sheriff walks over. "Wilbur says he's gonna open another gate. We're gonna get another rise."
They turn at the sound of honking. The Mayor drives up. "Gentlemen, Gwen. Hey - happy birthday, Andy."
Andy nods. Gwen stiffens. They do not like this guy.
"Sean, I gotta say, what you're doing..." the Mayor is addressing the Sheriff "I don't know if I'd be here."
"Well, you would be if you wanted to get the last couple of pay checks some bastard owed you." Sean replies with a grin.
"I just want you to know I think the people 'round here made a big mistake." The Mayor nods sadly and Gwen looks away with anger.
Gwen grumbles to herself. "You say "The people"? You're the one who screwed him."
"Sorry, Gwen?" the Mayor leans out the car window and Gwen is shocked that he almost heard her.
"I, uh .."
"You know, Bob, as much as I'd love to stand here all day talking about how great I am, if you don't get moving I'm gonna have to haul your sorry ass off to jail." Sean saves her and she rolls her eyes at him.
"Okay, okay, I'm going. Keep up the good work, boys. It's appreciated." The Mayor rolls up his window and heads off.
"Whaddya say we go torch the fucker's house and blame it on looters." Andy says in a dreamy voice "Or how about we put a dead cow in his living room. He comes back after it's been in the water a couple of days. Hello!"
"You wanna know how to get the best revenge on the Mayor and his boys? You do exactly what we're doing. You protect the town. You protect it better than they would. Better than they ever could." Sean sighs as he looks back at Andy.
Andy thinks, shrugs "I think the dead cow's better."
"Any looter that comes in here is in for a big surprise, cause as long as I'm still wearing this pointy thing..." Sean indicates at his badge "...nobody's taking anything from this town."
.
.
.
Nervous assistant bank manager Carrington is hurriedly tossing stacks of money into two canvas bags.
A man's shadow looms up on Carrington.
"Do you think you could go a little faster, pal?"
"I - I'm going as fast as I can." He whimpers, glancing back at the man waiting. A second shadow comes up and another voice chimes in.
"Well, it's not fast enough."
Carrington is about to speak, then sees something, gulps. A shotgun os held by one of the men, pointed at the floor. He sweeps the money off the shelves and into the bags.
"That it?"
"Yes. We don't keep any of our …"
Ignoring Carrington, the two men grab the canvas bags and stride off.
The front doors of the bank groan as they fly open. The two men exit in long dark raincoats.
Carrington runs up, stopping in the open door. "Hey, wait!"
As they slowly turn to face Carrington. We just see their faces, shielded from the rain by hat brims. Meet... Jack, 30, handsome, with an easy smile. Archie, 50, with a tough, red face.
"Excuse me?" Archie asks.
Carrington looks nervous for a second, then holds up a clipboard. "You forgot to sign."
We see, for the first time, by their hats and uniforms, that they are armoured car drivers. There's an armoured car parked at the curb, on the other side of a low wall of sandbags.
Archie sighs, goes back to Carrington and perfunctorily signs the form. Then he and Jack go to the sandbag wall. Jack holds both bags in one hand and the shotgun in the other. Archie doesn't want to get wet. He steps from the sandbag wall onto the rear bumper of the truck, then keys open the doors.
"Okay." Archie reaches out for the money bags. Jack jumps off the sandbag wall and lands in the water, splashing Archie.
"For Christsakes!" Archie splutters but Jack is unrepentant.
"It's a flood, Archie. You're gonna get wet." Jack laughs as Archie takes the bags, tosses them in then shuts the back. He moves toward the front, still trying to keep out of the water. Jack splashes him some more.
"Hey! Do you know what kind of crap is in that water?" Archie roars.
Jack grins; of course he knows "Well, yeah."
Jack kicks some more water at Archie. Archie gives Jack a withering look and climbs in the truck.
Archie gets into the driver's seat; Jack climbs into the shotgun seat. They shut and bolt the doors. Archie gets on the radio. "Dispatch, this is 13."
"Go ahead, 13."
"We're leaving Devil's Pit. We'll be back in an hour." Archie says with obvious relief.
"Ten-four. Get out of there."
"We're gone. Over and out." Archie hangs up the radio. He starts writing on a clipboard. Silence for a few moments, and then Archie notices Jack staring at him.
"What?"
"Your ear."Jack pulls a face.
"What about my ear?"
"You've got a major hair growth going on." Jack informs him with a serious face.
"Shut up."
"I'm serious. You're gonna need somebody to go in there with a weed whacker."
Archie grabs a donut bag off the seat and tosses it to Jack. "Here."
"You're offering me one of your donuts?" Jack gasps with glee "I don't know what to say. I'm getting all misty."
"If it'll shut your mouth you can have the whole bag."
Archie starts the truck. Jack thinks about it, then tosses the bag back. "Nah. I start eating donuts and I'll never get out of this truck."
Archie is disgusted "I love how you think you're better than this."
"Don't get me wrong, Archie. There's a lot to like about this job" Jack holds his hands up "and I don't just mean the dashing polyester ensemble and the solid three-figure income."
"You ungrateful shit! I don't believe you!"
Jack is surprised by his partner's unusual anger "Archie, relax! I was kidding!"
"You don't wanna do this?"Archie sneers "Fine. Go back to selling hot Terra-forming construction machinery. That's a helluva career."
"It had better hours." Jack can't help it.
Archie slams the clipboard down on the seat. "You think this is a joke? This is funny? Jesus Christ! You know how lucky you are you could get in here? Thirty years old and all the crap you pulled and you never got caught?"
Jack is angry now "That wasn't luck, old man. That was skill. I was good at it."
"Oh, yeah, it takes a lot of skill to fence dozers. That's goddamn genius time." Archie grumbles and Jack is again surprised as his usually friendly partner shows a darker side.
"About as much skill as it takes to sit in a truck and get fat eating donuts." Jack shoots back.
"Oh, so that's all I've been doing, huh? Just wasting my life away." Archie huffs.
"I didn't say that."
"Yeah, building a home, raising a family … that's just stupid." Archie is pissed and Jack does not know why. Usually they have friendly banter and this is both unexpected and unwelcome on an already shitty day.
"I didn't say that!" Jack is snarling as well.
"You know what, Jack? I really don't give a shit what you said."
Jack doesn't reply. Archie puts the truck in gear; starts off. Jack looks at Archie, shakes his head - what was that about?