Disclaimer: I do not own Scream; this is merely a fanfiction.
OPEN ON:
A TV montage. An advertisement. A woman's voice is narrating the commercial:
(V/O) GALE WEATHERS: You may never commit a crime in America … but that doesn't mean you won't be accused of one …
A shot of a man being led away into a police cruiser by cops. Behind him is an old farmhouse, encircled with police cars, "Do not cross" tape barriers. The man sits in the back of the cruiser and looks out, confusion and helplessness on his face … COTTON WEARY.
The ad cuts to Cotton's mother, an old woman sitting on a soft sofa, surrounded by childhood pictures.
COTTON'S MOTHER: He wasn't the smartest boy … was easily led by around by others … but he always had a smile, always tried to make others laugh … the boy I knew couldn't have done this … he did a lot o' stupid things … but he ain't never hurt nobody …
We cut to various news reports, TV anchors. The case is nationwide. Even major news outlets, Fox News, CNN, MSNBC are reporting.
CHRIS CUOMO: And we have further updates on the murder case that has shocked this nation … a murder, Manson-like in its brutality …
GIRELADO RIVERA: An inside source claims that the victim and Cotton had a love affair and that she may have wanted to end things …
V/O GALE WEATHERS: But … did we get it all wrong?
COTTON'S MOTHER: He was falsely accused before of raping some girl … ten years ago … served eight years in prison … till them cops found some new DNA evidence …
A lawyer sits in an interview room.
COTTON'S LAWYER: And the new evidence exonerated him. He was released with nothing but a handshake and a 'oopsie-dasie, we're sorry' from the Woodsboro Police.
COTTON'S MOTHER: He had a lawsuit coming against them cops … couple million for wrongful imprisonment … woulda paid for my treatments, if them cops didn't have it out for my boy …
V/O GALE: Two years ago, Cotton Weary was arrested for the brutal murder of Maureen Prescott … but, did the Woodsboro police get it wrong again … and even more troubling … did they target Cotton to make the multi-million dollar lawsuit go away?
COTTON'S LAWYER: The evidence just doesn't make sense. And the police ignored or mishandled crucial pieces of evidence.
V/O GALE: Other eyewitnesses have come forward, claiming to have seen someone else leaving the house as Cotton was entering. Yet these witnesses were not called forth to testify at trial. Even more interesting, several forensics reports indicated that Maureen could not have been killed in the cellar … so who planted her body there?
COTTON'S MOTHER: He was railroaded. Ain't no doubt 'bout that. The police wanted to make that lawsuit go away.
V/O GALE: As for the Woodsboro Police …
We cut to DEWEY RILEY, eyes frantic, running to get away from the cameras.
DEWEY: No comment! No comment!
He trips over his own untied shoelaces.
V/O GALE: A combination of incompetent deputies and a police chief out to get him resulted in the imprisonment of Cotton Weary. Now, in a new Netflix special, we analyze the real evidence, the evidence the police missed … or suppressed … and as for the prosecution's star witness, Sidney Prescott … we analyze her history. Facts that were not allowed to come to light in trial, such as her need for anti-depressants, her history of hallucinations – confirmed by Maureen to a close friend. Could Miss Prescott simply have fingered the wrong man … stay tuned for our groundbreaking new series To Create a Killer!
We cut to SIDNEY PRESCOTT, sitting on her couch, hugging her knees. Fury is building in her. Her father, NEIL PRESCOTT looks concerned.
NEIL: Sidney …
Sidney stares at the TV, tears forming in her eyes, before she gets up and storms away.
CUT TO:
INT. RURAL MANSION
A phone RINGS, the familiar sign of impending doom. A hand reaches out and grabs it, lifting it to the ear of CASEY BECKER. Blonde. Head cheerleader of Woodsboro High.
CASEY: Hello?
A pause. Tension builds … then we hear a girl's voice.
MEGAN: Hey, so I'm going to have to nix our plans tonight.
CASEY: Ugh, really? Why? Is it Jake? Tell me you're not still going out with that loser! He creeps me out!
MEGAN: It's not Jake. I dumped him three days ago. I just have a lot of studying and my mom's really riding me …
CASEY: Whatever. You owe me. I'll see you at school tomorrow. Mr. Lovedge is looking like a snack these days …
MEGAN: Eew, Casey, that's the school psychologist.
CASEY: What? I'm allowed to look. Not touch. (bites lip) He has a tattoo of a phoenix on his left shoulder.
MEGAN: Eww, how do you even know that? Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. Sorry again.
She hangs up. Casey puts her phone down and flops onto her couch and sighs. She's bored. The most popular girl in school should not be alone …
CUT TO:
INT. CAR – NIGHT
Megan hangs up her phone. She's in the passenger seat of an old-fashioned 1970's Corvette Stingray. And driving the car – indeed – is Jake.
JAKE: Can't believe she bought that.
MEGAN: Hey, she's my friend, but even I think she fits the dumb blonde mold too well. If this were a horror story, she'd probably be the first to die.
(Beat)
MEGAN: Where are we going anyway?
Jake grins.
JAKE: It's a surprise …
MEGAN: Mmmm, I like surprises …
The car pulls up and Jake puts it in park. They exit the car and stare at the building ahead. It's an old, abandoned house … we recognize it from the Netflix commercial … COTTON WEARY'S OLD FARMHOUSE.
MEGAN: The Murder House? Really? Is this your idea of a date?
JAKE: Oh, come on Meg. I know you love watching Ghost Hunters. Let's do a little investigation of our own.
Megan smiles as Jake produces two flashlights and slings a backpack over his shoulder.
MEGAN: Casey was right when she said you were a creep … good thing I'm one too!
She smiles and follows in his wake.
INT. MURDER HOUSE
The floorboards creak as the duo enter the old house. Dust has settled. It's been only two years but the house looks as though it hasn't been lived in in decades.
JAKE: Cotton had an apartment in Woodsboro over the old movie theater. This … this was just his lair.
Their flashlights shine on the farmhouse. Megan stares at a picture on a small table. A small picture of a child, no older than five. The young Cotton Weary. She reaches out and holds it. She looks into the boy's eyes.
JAKE: This was where he did the killing. He turned the basement into his own personal torture chamber.
Megan places the picture down.
MEGAN: That's if he did it.
JAKE: Oh, come on Meg. Don't tell me you're buying Gale Weathers' conspiracy theories. She's a journalist. She makes stuff up. Fake news and all that.
MEGAN: There's a lot that doesn't add up. The footprints for one thing. The body being moved.
JAKE: It was not moved. The coroner's report refutes that claim …
MEGAN: Unless the coroner was bribed by the police. Or threatened.
JAKE: You got some imagination. You should go into journalism with Gale.
MEGAN: Say what you want, but the real killer may still be out there.
A DULL THUD breaks the banter. They stop, flashing their lights in every direction. Jake finally smiles.
JAKE: It's an old house … probably settling. Come on – I wanna check out this torture chamber.
INT. BASEMENT
Jake and Megan descend cobwebbed stairs into an old cellar. There are various tables filled with power tools … Megan is drawn to a doorway off the cellar …
JAKE: Hey check this out!
Megan turns and joins him by a wall. There is a long pipe running along the top of the wall. Jake's eyes are filled with awe.
JAKE: This is where it happened …
MEGAN: This is where the body was planted.
JAKE: Believe what you want … I read the forensics' report. But we'll just have to agree to disagree.
He suddenly grabs Megan by the waist, pulling her in. She raises an eyebrow.
MEGAN: Really? You want to get frisky at a crime scene?
JAKE: Hey, you think the real killer might still be out there … the risk of getting caught always makes it better …
Megan bites her lip.
MEGAN: You got a good point. And it's a good thing I like the macabre too …
They kiss. He turns her, backs her into the wall as they continue making out. He pulls back.
MEGAN: What -?
Jake opens up his backpack and pulls something out. He hides the object behind his back as he wraps his other arm around Megan's waist. He kisses up her neck and she inhales.
JAKE: It happened here …
He backs her further into the wall.
JAKE: Cotton pushed Maureen into this wall like so …
He gently takes her left arm and stretches it out, kissing up it. He holds the arm up to the pipe.
JAKE: He took her arm like so …
CLANG!
MEGAN: What the hell?
Jake has handcuffed Megan to the pipe.
MEGAN: Jake – this isn't funny!
Jake kisses down her neck.
JAKE: I thought you wanted to try new things …
MEGAN: Yeah. At home. In our bedroom. Not in some creepy murder house.
JAKE: You were down with things just a minute ago …
MEGAN: Uh, yeah. Before you decided to tether me to some lead pipe …
JAKE: Alright, alright, let me get the key.
He fumbles in the backpack and pull out the handcuff's key. He grabs her arm, preparing to uncuff her.
A CAR ALARM BLARES! THEY BOTH JUMP! JAKE DROPS THE KEY!
MEGAN: Shit! That scared … the ever-living crap out of me.
JAKE: The car!
He begins sprinting up the stairs, leaving Megan still cuffed to the pipe.
MEGAN: Wait, don't leave me here!
Jake doesn't seem to hear her. He's only fixated on his car as he races upstairs.
JAKE: My Dad's Corvette Stingray! He'll kill me!
MEGAN: Jake!
His feet disappear upstairs. She blows a strand of hair out of her face and stretches out her foot, trying to trap the key with her boot. It is just centimeters out of her foot's reach.
EXT. HOUSE
Jake races outside to check on the car. The car alarm is blaring, the lights flashing on and off. He opens the driver's side door and shuts off the alarm. He steps out and observes the car from all directions.
JAKE: Probably just an animal. Stupid raccoons.
He turns.
His eyes widen.
INT. CELLAR
Megan is still trying to trap the key with her boot. She shakes her hand on the pipe, trying to break it free. She sighs.
MEGAN: Jake! Enough! I want to go home!
VMMM! VMMM!
Her pocket vibrates. With her free hand, she reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out her cell phone. Jake is calling her. She answers.
MEGAN: You better get me out of here right now. I'm not joking around anymore, this place is creepy.
GHOSTFACE: You don't have to tell me, Megan. I've been here before.
The soundtrack thuds. Megan swallows.
MEGAN: Jake … if you're using that stupid voice app again, I swear I'll kick you so hard your balls will pop out of your mouth!
GHOSTFACE: Wow, you're sick Megan. Twisted. I can see why Jake likes you, even though you like to keep secrets from those closest to you …
MEGAN: Jake … what are you on about?
GHOSTFACE: … but unfortunately for you, gatekeeping won't keep you alive. You should've done track like your friend Casey since the skill you'll need right now isn't gossiping, it's RUNNING!
MEGAN: Enough. You better get your ass down here and uncuff me or I'll take Casey's advice and dump your dumb ass.
GHOSTFACE: You're a smart girl, Megan. That's why I don't get why you're with a loser like Jake. He believes everything he hears, whatever the TV says is gospel. But you … well, you were right about one thing Megan … the real killer is still on the loose! You better get that key – QUICKLY!
The phone call cuts out.
MEGAN: Jake! Jake, let me the fuck out of here!
There's silence.
Except for a THUD she hears in the small room off the basement.
MEGAN: Jake?
Her phone vibrates again. A text. A video message. She presses play.
JAKE IS GAGGED AND BOUND TO THE HOOD OF THE CORVETTE STINGRAY!
MEGAN: JAKE! OH FUCK!
She stretches out with her foot, nearly grasping the fallen key. Another thud, louder this time, bangs from the small room. She struggles, pleading with God, tears in her eyes …
… her foot traps the key. She fumbles with it, crying hysterically. She is able to bend down, grab it and lift it to her chained wrist. With a snap, her hand springs free and she races out of the basement.
EXT. HOUSE – NIGHT
Megan races outside, fumbling with her phone. She dials 9-11.
OPERATOR: 9-11, what is your emergency?
MEGAN: HE'S GOT JAKE! OH GOD! PLEASE!
OPERATOR: Miss, what is your location?
MEGAN: The old Cotton Weary house! Hurry!
She's frantically running … no idea where, her mind is a blur. She races to the driveway … the Corvette Stingray and Jake are gone. She can't believe it. She spins, looking in all directions. There's only the sound of crickets.
OPERATOR: Did you say the Cotton Weary House?
MEGAN: Yes! Yes! THE COTTON WEARY HOUSE! HE'S GOT JAKE!
OPERATOR: Fucking kids. You think you're original?
MEGAN: Wha-?
OPERATOR: That damn Gale Weathers documentary's got this whole town tripping. You think you're the first to prank call us this week? You're not even the first today! Get some original material.
MEGAN: WAIT!
The operator hangs up. Megan's mind is racing. She runs up the gravelly driveway away from the house, fumbling with her phone as she runs, dialing 9-11 again.
OPERATOR: 9-11 what is your emergency?
MEGAN: Please! You have to send an officer to the Cotton Weary house, please!
OPERATOR: You again? You do realize prank calling the police is a felony? Call back when there's a real emergency.
The operator hangs up again.
Megan looks up and sees she's coming out of the long driveway onto the main road. She runs, frantically crying, looking around for any sign of Jake's car, pleading against hope that Jake is somehow really pranking her and this is all a twisted joke.
She sees headlights on the street. Two high beams. She waves her hands, running into the middle of the street.
The car comes to a slow stop. It creaks.
IT'S THE CORVETTE STINGRAY!
The soundtrack thuds as the passenger side window opens … JAKE'S CORPSE IS IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT, HIS EYES GOUGED OUT, HIS ARMS DUCT TAPED TO THE STEERING WHEEL!
Megan absolutely loses it. She screams bloody murder.
She turns – GHOSTFACE IS THERE. A knife sinks into her stomach. The killer slides the blade out of her gut as she screams for help. She holds her wound, limping down the street, her mind fading.
Behind her, Ghostface shoves Jake's body out of the car where it unceremoniously flops onto the ground. The killer takes the driver's seat, puts the car in gear, and revs the engine.
Megan is screaming bloody murder. Ghostface hits the accelerator, and the car surges forward, ramming Megan off the road, pinning her between the car and a tree.
She gags on her own blood, which is spilling onto the hood of the car. Ghostface steps out. He cocks his masked head, eyeing her curiously.
Megan's vision swims. But she reaches up as the killer stands over her and grabs the mask, pulling it down. Her eyes widen. She recognizes him.
MEGAN: You …
Ghostface raises his knife and strikes downward as the screen cuts to the title page:
SCREAMMAKE