EVIL DEAD: THE SERIES Episode # 9
"The Blaring Woods Project"
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Rated R (Profanity)
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BEGINNING OF FOOTAGE
(white light, gradually coming into focus on a face, staring intently into the camera. It is a round-faced young man, 16, with short-cropped sandy brown hair and oval-shaped glasses. Down on the corner of the screen, we see a date: 10-20-94)
YOUNG MAN (faint Tennessee accent): The little light came on. I think this thing's working.
SECOND VOICE (coming from behind the camera; the voice is female, with a more nondescript accent): Hey, cool. Toldja we could get the camcorder to work.
YOUNG MAN (eyebrow raised skeptically): If we didn't, it'd've been a hundred bucks thrown away so that fat fuck at the pawn shop can get the burrito supremes instead of the regular ones for the next year.
SECOND VOICE (sarcastic): Thank you, Mr. Sensitivity Training. (the camera's POV swirls around suddenly, as the young woman holding the camera turns it around to face herself. She has dark brown hair, worn short and unkempt, angular features, and bright, perceptive green eyes beneath expressive eyebrows. She is tomboyish, and not conventionally pretty, but is still quite attractive, and looks to be 16 years old) Greetings, viewers around the world. My name is Gretchen Halspont. No jokes, please....
YOUNG MAN (from off camera): Yes ma'am, Miss Hellspawn, ma'am.
GRETCHEN (under her breath) Prick. (More vocal, toward the camera) And standing beside me is my trusty sidekick Petey Wright, who I've tolerated... barely... since we were in third grade and he ate a bug on a dare in the schoolyard.
PETEY (edging his way on-camera) Hey, it's Pete, not Petey! Petey was a dog on the Little Rascals!
GRETCHEN: There's a difference? I thought all teenage boys were hound dogs.
PETE: For your information, Petey was a pit bull. And your simmering resentment because none of the boys at school ask you out is clouding your judgement of what 'all teenage boys' are like. (smiles for the camera, leaning in and trying to seem suave) Helloooo, ladies.
(Gretchen rolls her eyes)
GRETCHEN (leaning in past Pete): I rest my case.
(She then flicks the camera off)
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(fade in again, this time on a more distant object... a forbidding bridge, stretched over a ravine in a forestral area)
GRETCHEN (from behind camera, narrating and trying to sound spooky): We are at the outskirts of Spiegel County, on a road few people ever travel. This is where it all began, last year.
PETE (off-camera): You're hamming it up.
(Gretchen turns her camera angle so Pete falls into view; he squints from the brightness of the camera's light)
GRETCHEN (from behind camera, impatient): I'm trying to establish a mood, Numbnuts.
PETE: For what? Who's gonna see this thing, the five people who actually WATCH Spiegel Public Access?
GRETCHEN (behind camera): Hey, if I'm going to make this documentary, I'm gonna do it right. Why don't you run home and play with your dolls?
PETE (testily): Those GI Joes are action figures, not dolls! Besides, I don't play with them any more.
GRETCHEN: It's not like you've locked em away somewhere, is it?
PETE: Well... what about that dumb stuffed unicorn?
GRETCHEN (turning the camera so she is looking into it) For the record, folks, Spike is NOT dumb. He's a very smart unicorn. Besides, I'm a girl, we're allowed to keep at least one stuffed animal. Look, we're wasting valuable battery power. We've got a documentary to do.
(camera rotates again, focusing on the bridge)
GRETCHEN (behind camera): This is where it all began, last year. The sheriff's department found this bridge, which leads to an isolated cabin, torn apart. Upon further investigation, they found the remnants of said cabin...
PETE (off-camera): Along with the remnants of some people who had been staying at the cabin...
(the camera swings to face Pete, who blinks)
PETE: What?
GRETCHEN (behind camera, testy): Listen, you want to tell this story? Then go ahead.
PETE: Hey, I was just saying...
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Go ahead and say. What happened next, Mr. Assistant Producer?
PETE (thinking for a moment): Well, uh, the sheriff's office blocked off the area and collected evidence.
GRETCHEN (b.c., goading him): Includinnng?
PETE: Uh... body parts. And... uh... what was it, car parts?
(Gretchen sighs, and turns the camera to face her)
GRETCHEN: What my astute colleague is trying to remember is tire tracks. The sheriff found the parts of several people, including two locals. The cabin had been torn to shreds, and collapsed in on itself. But the interesting thing is, near the cabin, they found the tracks of a car that had apparently went back in reverse a ways and then... the tracks stop, as if it lifted into the air.
PETE (off-camera): Oooo-oooooooooo.
(Gretchen scowls in his direction)
GRETCHEN (turning back to the camera): The sheriff, of course, claimed that the car must have belonged to the killer, who left behind at least one unidentified corpse along with others who were later identified as a professor and his family. But there are those who believe it was not a mere man who committed those grisly murders, but a spirit, dwelling within the forest itself. After all, could a lone serial killer so totally destroy the bridge on his way away from the crime scene, and do it without leaving a trace of his presence?
(Gretchen turns the camera to look at the bridge)
GRETCHEN (behind camera): The bridge was rebuilt, as you now see it, and after six months, the sheriff's department finally quit sealing off the area. The reason... (she zooms the lens, and we pick up a small sign on the other side of the bridge, but cannot make it out)
Damn it, i thought I could zoom and we could read that.
PETE: Too far away.
GRETCHEN: But it woulda been such a cool shot.
PETE: Thank you, Miss Spielburp. Until we can afford a jillion dollars of real high-tech movie cameras, you'll have to do it the old fashioned way.
(Gretchen sighs. Image cuts off)
(Image cuts back on again. We are now on the other side of the bridge, and Gretchen is aiming her camera at the sighn that was barely visible before. It reads 'Future Site of Another Fine Home from Gateway Construction'.)
GRETCHEN (behind camera): A contractor is planning to tear down what's left of the mysterious cabin, so they can build a big expensive vacation home for some zillionaire. The bulldozers move in on Monday, so we've got only a few days to explore what lurks... (shifts the camera angle to the forest, her voice taking on a sinister tone) ... Within the Woods.
(Off-camera, Pete laughs at the pretentiousness of it all as we... fade out)
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(Fade in on the crumbling ruins of a cabin, resting in the dappled sunlight in the midst of a grove of trees. Part of the building has collapsed on itself, and the rest seems ready to collapse.)
GRETCHEN (behind camera): Here it is, folks, the cabin itself. It was owned by an old professor, uh... (camera swerves until Pete comes onscreen)... Petey, what was that professor's name?
PETE: I don't remember.
GRETCHEN (annoyed, still b.c.): I thought he was a friend of your grandpa!
PETE (shrugging): Like I keep track of the names of Grandpa's friends. The guy's like 80 years old, he knows everybody in a three-county radius.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Shit.
PETE: Oh, yeah, they'll let that word get on the air.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Well, we'll edit it in post.
(Pete laughs. Gretchen turns the camera momentarily around in her hand so we see her displeased expression. She then turns the camera back to aim at Pete)
GRETCHEN (b.c., even more annoyed than earlier): What?
PETE (doing a fair but obviously exaggerated imitation of Gretchen's voice) 'We'll edit it in post'.... You're getting waaay to wrapped up in this whole 'TV producer' jazz.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Shut the fuck up.
PETE: Oh, another prize for the censors.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I think I've got a real knack for this, and I don't appreciate your smart-assed comments, you... you... smart ass.
PETE: Real knack? C'mon, Gretch! We're just running around the woods with a cheap camcorder. Why can't we be back in the comfortable studio, ragging on lame records like usual?!
GRETCHEN (b.c.): The 'Gretchen and Pete Power Hour' has been so damn boring lately. This'll liven it up, trust me.
PETE: It's cold and cloudy and I think it's gonna rain before too ---.
(there is a sudden sharp noise of something cracking. The camera swerves around to the ruins of the cabin)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): What the hell was that?
PETE (uncertain, taking a few steps cautiously toward the cabin): Maybe a piece of timber fell over?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Pete, get back from that.
(Pete ignores her and takes another step forward)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Pete, I'm not kidding.
(Pete waves a hand over his shoulder, and makes a 'shush' noise)
GRETCHEN: (b.c.) Fuck you!! Don't try to shush me, it's MY show!
(Pete approaches the remnants of the porch)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I swear to God, if you step on those rickety old boards, I hope you get tetanus from a rusty nail.
(Pete looks back and grins widely).
PETE: There's a basement.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Say what?
PETE (pointing): Look. There's a cellar door over there, in the middle of what's left of the house. Wanna go poke around?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): It doesn't look safe. This place is rotted all to hell. What if we fall through the floor before we reach it?
PETE: Then we end up in the basement sooner than planned. Come on, you wanna be an investigative reporter or you want to be a wuss?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I don't want to break this camcorder. You know how many nights I had to work that damned take-out window to buy it?
PETE (looking back over his shoulder): Wuss.
(the camera spins around suddenly, sweeping across the woods)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Did you hear that?
PETE (now off-camera): What? I didn't hear anything.
(the camera continues to sweep, not catching sight of anything in the woods)
PETE (off-camera): Your mind's playing tricks on you. Probably a symptom of being a total chickenshit.
(the camera swings back to look at Pete)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I'm serious, dickmaster. I heard something rustling.
PETE: Leaves? A raccoon? Maybe a fat bird landing on a thin branch? I think a bear or a serial killer or whatever woulda made enough noise I coulda heard it, you know.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Maybe my imagination's getting to me.
(thunder cracks, causing Gretchen to jump, which causes the camera to shake suddenly)
PETE: Oh, hell.
(camera swings upwards. Through the canopy of leafless trees, we can see dark clouds rolling in)
PETE (off-camera): Told you we shoulda waited til a sunny day.
(lightning flashes in the sky. A moment later, there is another, louder roll of thunder)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): We'd better get back to the car.
PETE: You sure you don't want to hide in the dark cellar? I bet it's real creepy down there...
(Gretchen turns the camera to herself and shakes her head in disbelief.)
GRETCHEN: Sorry, folks, but we'll have to pick this up tomorrow.
(she reaches around and presses a button on the camera. The image fades out).
(Image fades back in suddenly on heaps of twisted metal. Image pulls back to reveal that these pieces of metal are parts of the girders of the bridge, which is bent back and shredded. Pete stands in the foreground, staring incredulously. Dark clouds pour across the sky overhead, and lightning slices across the skyline)
PETE: What the fuck?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Could lightning have hit the bridge?
PETE (shaking his head): I don't think so..If it had, shouldn't the bridge still be smoldering or something? I've never seen anything like this.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Well, it must have been lightning. What else could do that?
(lightning flashes, even more strongly than before, causing Gretchen to jump back. She steadies the camera)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Maybe we SHOULD go back to the cabin after all. We can hide out in the woodshed I saw behind it, right?
(Pete nods, then flinches at another flash of lightning.)
PETE: Well, let's do it quick. Getting zapped with lightning might give The Flash superpowers, but I think it'd just kill us and be done with it.
(Gretchen turns the camera around so she is staring into it)
GRETCHEN: As our loyal viewer...s.... know, Pete is a font of really stupid, useless comic book and movie references. You've just been witness to yet anothe--- (a teeth-shattering rumble of thunder) --- uh, we better head to the cabin clearing. See you folks later. (image fades out)
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(fade in, gradually coming into focus. We are inside a small shed. The light atop the camcorder illuminates various rusty instruments, implements, tools and nasty-looking objects. We can hear steady rain beating down on the roof.)
PETE: This... uh...
(he examines a workbench)
PETE: Gretch, I think this is blood.
GRETCHEN (behind the camera): Human blood?
PETE: Like I could tell the difference.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): It's black. Maybe it's paint.
PETE: If it's been here a year, it wouldn't exactly be glistening red....
GRETCHEN (b.c.): That doesn't make sense. It couldn't be blood. Why would the sheriff's department leave evidence here?
PETE (looking up at the rusty saws against one wall): Maybe there was so much blood they didn't need to take it all. You know, this might not be the best time to mention it, but there's a chainsaw case over here but I don't see any signs of the chainsaw....
(thunder rumbles, so loud that the saws, and other tools hanging above the two youths' heads, vibrate)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Maybe this isn't the safest place after all.
PETE: It beats being out there in the rain.
GRETCHEN (placing camcorder on a table, left on so it is still rolling): Well, help me get these axes and crap down from the rafters before they fall and cut us to ribbons.
(she and Pete carefully reach up and take some of the rusty equipment that hangs on hooks and nails from the ceiling and walls. Lightning flashes intensely, startling Pete.)
GRETCHEN: It's just a storm. And it can't come in here and get u--
(something taps against glass, and Gretchen lets out a yelp. She stares off where the noise came from, then back to the camcorder.)
GRETCHEN: Just tree limbs blowing up against a window.
PETE (sarcastically): Maybe it's a tree-shaped monster.
GRETCHEN: Shut the fuck up, Petey.
PETE: Remember how you had nightmares about those things in 'Wizard of Oz'?
GRETCHEN: Shut up, I mean it.
(she grabs the camcorder, and it swings around until we are looking from her point of view. A few tree limbs brush against the window, blown by the fierce winds of the storm outside).
GRETCHEN (b.c.): See, viewers at home, nothing but tree limbs.
(the limbs swing back, then forward, sharply, smashing the glass of the window. Gretchen screams, her steadiness with the camera momentarily gone as she jumps back; she levels the camera back toward the window, then pans down to Pete, who has ducked under the work bench)
PETE (speaking loud to be heard over the wind that blows through the now-open window): You think a tornado is coming?!
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Better that than a killer tree!
(Tree limbs smash against the side of the shed)
PETE: (staring, jaw agape) Gretch....
GRETCHEN (b.c.): What?
(she turns her camera angle to follow his gaze. The tree limbs that smashed through the window come back... and this time the branches appear to bend, as if gripping the edges of the windowsill.)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): That can't be what it looks ----
(the branches pull back harshly, tearing a section of wall out with them. The rain pours in, and the wind howls. Pete throws open the door of the shed, and runs toward the ruins of the house. Gretchen follows, her camera held down, shaking violently and taking in the mud-soaked ground.)
GRETCHEN (off-camera, yelling to be heard over the storm): Where are you going?!
(sound of timber creaking as Pete pulls open the cellar door in the middle of what is left of the living room of the old cabin. Gretchen pauses long enough to level the camera to show what he is doing. She then turns the camera back to the shed, which appears to be being thrashed by the tree limbs blowing in the wind.)
PETE: COME ON!!!
(Gretchen follows him down into the cellar. As the door slams shut above them, they tumble, and the world goes dark).
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(fade in as the camera comes back into focus, on Gretchen's face as she examines it. She blinks from the brightness of the light atop the camcorder).
GRETCHEN: It's still working.
PETE: Good, I can record my last will on it.
GRETCHEN (turning the camera to look at Pete): Oh, come on, it's just a scratch.
PETE (looking down at his left arm, which has a tourniquet wrapped around it): Probably tetanus.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I don't think old wood can give you tetanus. (she turns the camera; the light illuminates the stairs, which are rotted partway through; the bottom few stairs have broken apart completely) Well, here's the latest fun addition to our day, folks. We did a pratfall down these stairs a few minutes ago, and Pete cut his arm on some termite-infested wood.
PETE: Jeez, that'd be nasty if the termites got into my bloodstream.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Oh, come off it.
(she arcs the camera around in the dank cellar. Rainfall beats on the ceiling, and leaks through in some spots.)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Charming place you've got here.
PETE: Well, whoever owned this place had good taste. Look at that 'The Hills Have Eyes' poster on the wall.
(Gretchen turns her camera that way. She then continues her swoop across the room, revealing an old movie projector and an even older record player.)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): That's the movie with the creepy bald guy, right? Doesn't seem like something you should see in the basement of a cabin owned by an old college professor.
PETE: It's torn. Damn shame, it'd be worth some serious bucks otherwise.
(thunder rumbles above them)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Doesn't sound like the storm's letting up any.
(Pete heads to a door at the far end of the room)
PETE: Hey, bring the light over this way.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Shouldn't we just conserve what's left of the battery energy?
PETE: What, turn off the lights in this dark cellar, in what's left of a house a maniacal killer slaughtered people in, without looking around the cellar first to make sure no one's here?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Who the hell would be here?
(something scratches against the door from the other side, causing Pete to stumble and then tumble back. Gretchen moves back quickly, keeping her camera aimed at the door; Pete comes up beside her.)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): What was that?
PETE (off-camera): If we're lucky, it's just a rat or something.
(the scratching continues)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): It HAS to be a rat. Or a possum. It's not like some killer's been hiding in the basement all this time, after the sheriff's office examined the place.
PETE (stepping into frame and keeping a wary eye on the door): Unless the sheriff's just covering up what happened.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Do I need to tell you to shut up again?
PETE: The county's sold this land to that developer. Maybe they just want to plow over this place and forget about it.
(scratching noises. Then, they become louder. Pete jumps as something bangs against the door. Gretchen focuses her camcorder on it. Pete grabs a chair and smashes it against a wall, pulling off the legs for makeshift weapons. He hands one wooden leg to Gretchen, then grips the other, larger piece like a baseball bat).
PETE: Put the camera down.
(something slams against the door again, harder).
GRETCHEN (setting the camera down, positioning it aimed at the door): I'm going to leave it running. We need the light.
(the thing slams against the door again, hard enough to kick up dust around the door. Pete takes a deep breath)
GRETCHEN (gripping her piece of wood): Besides, if we get killed, at least the camera'll show the cops who did it.
PETE: Oh, that's reassuring.
(something slams against the door. Wood creaks).
(Gretchen looks back over her shoulder at the camera)
GRETCHEN: Next week, folks, we'll be back to doing record reviews in the comfy studio.
PETE: Amen.
(the thing slams against the door. Wood buckles and snaps; not quite enough for the door to open, but it is definitely showing signs of structural weakness).
(the light from the camcorder dims. Gretchen looks back over her shoulder at the camera, worried. In the corner of the screen, a small LED display 'Battery Low' lights up.)
GRETCHEN (her stomach in knots): Please, not now.
PETE: What's wrong?
(whatever it is slams into the door again)
GRETCHEN: That little yellow light's flashing, I think it's almost out of ---
(the light goes out, throwing the cellar into darkness. Camera image fades out to the sound of wood cracking).
END OF FOOTAGE.
"The Blaring Woods Project"
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Rated R (Profanity)
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BEGINNING OF FOOTAGE
(white light, gradually coming into focus on a face, staring intently into the camera. It is a round-faced young man, 16, with short-cropped sandy brown hair and oval-shaped glasses. Down on the corner of the screen, we see a date: 10-20-94)
YOUNG MAN (faint Tennessee accent): The little light came on. I think this thing's working.
SECOND VOICE (coming from behind the camera; the voice is female, with a more nondescript accent): Hey, cool. Toldja we could get the camcorder to work.
YOUNG MAN (eyebrow raised skeptically): If we didn't, it'd've been a hundred bucks thrown away so that fat fuck at the pawn shop can get the burrito supremes instead of the regular ones for the next year.
SECOND VOICE (sarcastic): Thank you, Mr. Sensitivity Training. (the camera's POV swirls around suddenly, as the young woman holding the camera turns it around to face herself. She has dark brown hair, worn short and unkempt, angular features, and bright, perceptive green eyes beneath expressive eyebrows. She is tomboyish, and not conventionally pretty, but is still quite attractive, and looks to be 16 years old) Greetings, viewers around the world. My name is Gretchen Halspont. No jokes, please....
YOUNG MAN (from off camera): Yes ma'am, Miss Hellspawn, ma'am.
GRETCHEN (under her breath) Prick. (More vocal, toward the camera) And standing beside me is my trusty sidekick Petey Wright, who I've tolerated... barely... since we were in third grade and he ate a bug on a dare in the schoolyard.
PETEY (edging his way on-camera) Hey, it's Pete, not Petey! Petey was a dog on the Little Rascals!
GRETCHEN: There's a difference? I thought all teenage boys were hound dogs.
PETE: For your information, Petey was a pit bull. And your simmering resentment because none of the boys at school ask you out is clouding your judgement of what 'all teenage boys' are like. (smiles for the camera, leaning in and trying to seem suave) Helloooo, ladies.
(Gretchen rolls her eyes)
GRETCHEN (leaning in past Pete): I rest my case.
(She then flicks the camera off)
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(fade in again, this time on a more distant object... a forbidding bridge, stretched over a ravine in a forestral area)
GRETCHEN (from behind camera, narrating and trying to sound spooky): We are at the outskirts of Spiegel County, on a road few people ever travel. This is where it all began, last year.
PETE (off-camera): You're hamming it up.
(Gretchen turns her camera angle so Pete falls into view; he squints from the brightness of the camera's light)
GRETCHEN (from behind camera, impatient): I'm trying to establish a mood, Numbnuts.
PETE: For what? Who's gonna see this thing, the five people who actually WATCH Spiegel Public Access?
GRETCHEN (behind camera): Hey, if I'm going to make this documentary, I'm gonna do it right. Why don't you run home and play with your dolls?
PETE (testily): Those GI Joes are action figures, not dolls! Besides, I don't play with them any more.
GRETCHEN: It's not like you've locked em away somewhere, is it?
PETE: Well... what about that dumb stuffed unicorn?
GRETCHEN (turning the camera so she is looking into it) For the record, folks, Spike is NOT dumb. He's a very smart unicorn. Besides, I'm a girl, we're allowed to keep at least one stuffed animal. Look, we're wasting valuable battery power. We've got a documentary to do.
(camera rotates again, focusing on the bridge)
GRETCHEN (behind camera): This is where it all began, last year. The sheriff's department found this bridge, which leads to an isolated cabin, torn apart. Upon further investigation, they found the remnants of said cabin...
PETE (off-camera): Along with the remnants of some people who had been staying at the cabin...
(the camera swings to face Pete, who blinks)
PETE: What?
GRETCHEN (behind camera, testy): Listen, you want to tell this story? Then go ahead.
PETE: Hey, I was just saying...
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Go ahead and say. What happened next, Mr. Assistant Producer?
PETE (thinking for a moment): Well, uh, the sheriff's office blocked off the area and collected evidence.
GRETCHEN (b.c., goading him): Includinnng?
PETE: Uh... body parts. And... uh... what was it, car parts?
(Gretchen sighs, and turns the camera to face her)
GRETCHEN: What my astute colleague is trying to remember is tire tracks. The sheriff found the parts of several people, including two locals. The cabin had been torn to shreds, and collapsed in on itself. But the interesting thing is, near the cabin, they found the tracks of a car that had apparently went back in reverse a ways and then... the tracks stop, as if it lifted into the air.
PETE (off-camera): Oooo-oooooooooo.
(Gretchen scowls in his direction)
GRETCHEN (turning back to the camera): The sheriff, of course, claimed that the car must have belonged to the killer, who left behind at least one unidentified corpse along with others who were later identified as a professor and his family. But there are those who believe it was not a mere man who committed those grisly murders, but a spirit, dwelling within the forest itself. After all, could a lone serial killer so totally destroy the bridge on his way away from the crime scene, and do it without leaving a trace of his presence?
(Gretchen turns the camera to look at the bridge)
GRETCHEN (behind camera): The bridge was rebuilt, as you now see it, and after six months, the sheriff's department finally quit sealing off the area. The reason... (she zooms the lens, and we pick up a small sign on the other side of the bridge, but cannot make it out)
Damn it, i thought I could zoom and we could read that.
PETE: Too far away.
GRETCHEN: But it woulda been such a cool shot.
PETE: Thank you, Miss Spielburp. Until we can afford a jillion dollars of real high-tech movie cameras, you'll have to do it the old fashioned way.
(Gretchen sighs. Image cuts off)
(Image cuts back on again. We are now on the other side of the bridge, and Gretchen is aiming her camera at the sighn that was barely visible before. It reads 'Future Site of Another Fine Home from Gateway Construction'.)
GRETCHEN (behind camera): A contractor is planning to tear down what's left of the mysterious cabin, so they can build a big expensive vacation home for some zillionaire. The bulldozers move in on Monday, so we've got only a few days to explore what lurks... (shifts the camera angle to the forest, her voice taking on a sinister tone) ... Within the Woods.
(Off-camera, Pete laughs at the pretentiousness of it all as we... fade out)
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(Fade in on the crumbling ruins of a cabin, resting in the dappled sunlight in the midst of a grove of trees. Part of the building has collapsed on itself, and the rest seems ready to collapse.)
GRETCHEN (behind camera): Here it is, folks, the cabin itself. It was owned by an old professor, uh... (camera swerves until Pete comes onscreen)... Petey, what was that professor's name?
PETE: I don't remember.
GRETCHEN (annoyed, still b.c.): I thought he was a friend of your grandpa!
PETE (shrugging): Like I keep track of the names of Grandpa's friends. The guy's like 80 years old, he knows everybody in a three-county radius.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Shit.
PETE: Oh, yeah, they'll let that word get on the air.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Well, we'll edit it in post.
(Pete laughs. Gretchen turns the camera momentarily around in her hand so we see her displeased expression. She then turns the camera back to aim at Pete)
GRETCHEN (b.c., even more annoyed than earlier): What?
PETE (doing a fair but obviously exaggerated imitation of Gretchen's voice) 'We'll edit it in post'.... You're getting waaay to wrapped up in this whole 'TV producer' jazz.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Shut the fuck up.
PETE: Oh, another prize for the censors.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I think I've got a real knack for this, and I don't appreciate your smart-assed comments, you... you... smart ass.
PETE: Real knack? C'mon, Gretch! We're just running around the woods with a cheap camcorder. Why can't we be back in the comfortable studio, ragging on lame records like usual?!
GRETCHEN (b.c.): The 'Gretchen and Pete Power Hour' has been so damn boring lately. This'll liven it up, trust me.
PETE: It's cold and cloudy and I think it's gonna rain before too ---.
(there is a sudden sharp noise of something cracking. The camera swerves around to the ruins of the cabin)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): What the hell was that?
PETE (uncertain, taking a few steps cautiously toward the cabin): Maybe a piece of timber fell over?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Pete, get back from that.
(Pete ignores her and takes another step forward)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Pete, I'm not kidding.
(Pete waves a hand over his shoulder, and makes a 'shush' noise)
GRETCHEN: (b.c.) Fuck you!! Don't try to shush me, it's MY show!
(Pete approaches the remnants of the porch)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I swear to God, if you step on those rickety old boards, I hope you get tetanus from a rusty nail.
(Pete looks back and grins widely).
PETE: There's a basement.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Say what?
PETE (pointing): Look. There's a cellar door over there, in the middle of what's left of the house. Wanna go poke around?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): It doesn't look safe. This place is rotted all to hell. What if we fall through the floor before we reach it?
PETE: Then we end up in the basement sooner than planned. Come on, you wanna be an investigative reporter or you want to be a wuss?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I don't want to break this camcorder. You know how many nights I had to work that damned take-out window to buy it?
PETE (looking back over his shoulder): Wuss.
(the camera spins around suddenly, sweeping across the woods)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Did you hear that?
PETE (now off-camera): What? I didn't hear anything.
(the camera continues to sweep, not catching sight of anything in the woods)
PETE (off-camera): Your mind's playing tricks on you. Probably a symptom of being a total chickenshit.
(the camera swings back to look at Pete)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I'm serious, dickmaster. I heard something rustling.
PETE: Leaves? A raccoon? Maybe a fat bird landing on a thin branch? I think a bear or a serial killer or whatever woulda made enough noise I coulda heard it, you know.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Maybe my imagination's getting to me.
(thunder cracks, causing Gretchen to jump, which causes the camera to shake suddenly)
PETE: Oh, hell.
(camera swings upwards. Through the canopy of leafless trees, we can see dark clouds rolling in)
PETE (off-camera): Told you we shoulda waited til a sunny day.
(lightning flashes in the sky. A moment later, there is another, louder roll of thunder)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): We'd better get back to the car.
PETE: You sure you don't want to hide in the dark cellar? I bet it's real creepy down there...
(Gretchen turns the camera to herself and shakes her head in disbelief.)
GRETCHEN: Sorry, folks, but we'll have to pick this up tomorrow.
(she reaches around and presses a button on the camera. The image fades out).
(Image fades back in suddenly on heaps of twisted metal. Image pulls back to reveal that these pieces of metal are parts of the girders of the bridge, which is bent back and shredded. Pete stands in the foreground, staring incredulously. Dark clouds pour across the sky overhead, and lightning slices across the skyline)
PETE: What the fuck?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Could lightning have hit the bridge?
PETE (shaking his head): I don't think so..If it had, shouldn't the bridge still be smoldering or something? I've never seen anything like this.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Well, it must have been lightning. What else could do that?
(lightning flashes, even more strongly than before, causing Gretchen to jump back. She steadies the camera)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Maybe we SHOULD go back to the cabin after all. We can hide out in the woodshed I saw behind it, right?
(Pete nods, then flinches at another flash of lightning.)
PETE: Well, let's do it quick. Getting zapped with lightning might give The Flash superpowers, but I think it'd just kill us and be done with it.
(Gretchen turns the camera around so she is staring into it)
GRETCHEN: As our loyal viewer...s.... know, Pete is a font of really stupid, useless comic book and movie references. You've just been witness to yet anothe--- (a teeth-shattering rumble of thunder) --- uh, we better head to the cabin clearing. See you folks later. (image fades out)
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(fade in, gradually coming into focus. We are inside a small shed. The light atop the camcorder illuminates various rusty instruments, implements, tools and nasty-looking objects. We can hear steady rain beating down on the roof.)
PETE: This... uh...
(he examines a workbench)
PETE: Gretch, I think this is blood.
GRETCHEN (behind the camera): Human blood?
PETE: Like I could tell the difference.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): It's black. Maybe it's paint.
PETE: If it's been here a year, it wouldn't exactly be glistening red....
GRETCHEN (b.c.): That doesn't make sense. It couldn't be blood. Why would the sheriff's department leave evidence here?
PETE (looking up at the rusty saws against one wall): Maybe there was so much blood they didn't need to take it all. You know, this might not be the best time to mention it, but there's a chainsaw case over here but I don't see any signs of the chainsaw....
(thunder rumbles, so loud that the saws, and other tools hanging above the two youths' heads, vibrate)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Maybe this isn't the safest place after all.
PETE: It beats being out there in the rain.
GRETCHEN (placing camcorder on a table, left on so it is still rolling): Well, help me get these axes and crap down from the rafters before they fall and cut us to ribbons.
(she and Pete carefully reach up and take some of the rusty equipment that hangs on hooks and nails from the ceiling and walls. Lightning flashes intensely, startling Pete.)
GRETCHEN: It's just a storm. And it can't come in here and get u--
(something taps against glass, and Gretchen lets out a yelp. She stares off where the noise came from, then back to the camcorder.)
GRETCHEN: Just tree limbs blowing up against a window.
PETE (sarcastically): Maybe it's a tree-shaped monster.
GRETCHEN: Shut the fuck up, Petey.
PETE: Remember how you had nightmares about those things in 'Wizard of Oz'?
GRETCHEN: Shut up, I mean it.
(she grabs the camcorder, and it swings around until we are looking from her point of view. A few tree limbs brush against the window, blown by the fierce winds of the storm outside).
GRETCHEN (b.c.): See, viewers at home, nothing but tree limbs.
(the limbs swing back, then forward, sharply, smashing the glass of the window. Gretchen screams, her steadiness with the camera momentarily gone as she jumps back; she levels the camera back toward the window, then pans down to Pete, who has ducked under the work bench)
PETE (speaking loud to be heard over the wind that blows through the now-open window): You think a tornado is coming?!
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Better that than a killer tree!
(Tree limbs smash against the side of the shed)
PETE: (staring, jaw agape) Gretch....
GRETCHEN (b.c.): What?
(she turns her camera angle to follow his gaze. The tree limbs that smashed through the window come back... and this time the branches appear to bend, as if gripping the edges of the windowsill.)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): That can't be what it looks ----
(the branches pull back harshly, tearing a section of wall out with them. The rain pours in, and the wind howls. Pete throws open the door of the shed, and runs toward the ruins of the house. Gretchen follows, her camera held down, shaking violently and taking in the mud-soaked ground.)
GRETCHEN (off-camera, yelling to be heard over the storm): Where are you going?!
(sound of timber creaking as Pete pulls open the cellar door in the middle of what is left of the living room of the old cabin. Gretchen pauses long enough to level the camera to show what he is doing. She then turns the camera back to the shed, which appears to be being thrashed by the tree limbs blowing in the wind.)
PETE: COME ON!!!
(Gretchen follows him down into the cellar. As the door slams shut above them, they tumble, and the world goes dark).
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(fade in as the camera comes back into focus, on Gretchen's face as she examines it. She blinks from the brightness of the light atop the camcorder).
GRETCHEN: It's still working.
PETE: Good, I can record my last will on it.
GRETCHEN (turning the camera to look at Pete): Oh, come on, it's just a scratch.
PETE (looking down at his left arm, which has a tourniquet wrapped around it): Probably tetanus.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): I don't think old wood can give you tetanus. (she turns the camera; the light illuminates the stairs, which are rotted partway through; the bottom few stairs have broken apart completely) Well, here's the latest fun addition to our day, folks. We did a pratfall down these stairs a few minutes ago, and Pete cut his arm on some termite-infested wood.
PETE: Jeez, that'd be nasty if the termites got into my bloodstream.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Oh, come off it.
(she arcs the camera around in the dank cellar. Rainfall beats on the ceiling, and leaks through in some spots.)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Charming place you've got here.
PETE: Well, whoever owned this place had good taste. Look at that 'The Hills Have Eyes' poster on the wall.
(Gretchen turns her camera that way. She then continues her swoop across the room, revealing an old movie projector and an even older record player.)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): That's the movie with the creepy bald guy, right? Doesn't seem like something you should see in the basement of a cabin owned by an old college professor.
PETE: It's torn. Damn shame, it'd be worth some serious bucks otherwise.
(thunder rumbles above them)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Doesn't sound like the storm's letting up any.
(Pete heads to a door at the far end of the room)
PETE: Hey, bring the light over this way.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Shouldn't we just conserve what's left of the battery energy?
PETE: What, turn off the lights in this dark cellar, in what's left of a house a maniacal killer slaughtered people in, without looking around the cellar first to make sure no one's here?
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Who the hell would be here?
(something scratches against the door from the other side, causing Pete to stumble and then tumble back. Gretchen moves back quickly, keeping her camera aimed at the door; Pete comes up beside her.)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): What was that?
PETE (off-camera): If we're lucky, it's just a rat or something.
(the scratching continues)
GRETCHEN (b.c.): It HAS to be a rat. Or a possum. It's not like some killer's been hiding in the basement all this time, after the sheriff's office examined the place.
PETE (stepping into frame and keeping a wary eye on the door): Unless the sheriff's just covering up what happened.
GRETCHEN (b.c.): Do I need to tell you to shut up again?
PETE: The county's sold this land to that developer. Maybe they just want to plow over this place and forget about it.
(scratching noises. Then, they become louder. Pete jumps as something bangs against the door. Gretchen focuses her camcorder on it. Pete grabs a chair and smashes it against a wall, pulling off the legs for makeshift weapons. He hands one wooden leg to Gretchen, then grips the other, larger piece like a baseball bat).
PETE: Put the camera down.
(something slams against the door again, harder).
GRETCHEN (setting the camera down, positioning it aimed at the door): I'm going to leave it running. We need the light.
(the thing slams against the door again, hard enough to kick up dust around the door. Pete takes a deep breath)
GRETCHEN (gripping her piece of wood): Besides, if we get killed, at least the camera'll show the cops who did it.
PETE: Oh, that's reassuring.
(something slams against the door. Wood creaks).
(Gretchen looks back over her shoulder at the camera)
GRETCHEN: Next week, folks, we'll be back to doing record reviews in the comfy studio.
PETE: Amen.
(the thing slams against the door. Wood buckles and snaps; not quite enough for the door to open, but it is definitely showing signs of structural weakness).
(the light from the camcorder dims. Gretchen looks back over her shoulder at the camera, worried. In the corner of the screen, a small LED display 'Battery Low' lights up.)
GRETCHEN (her stomach in knots): Please, not now.
PETE: What's wrong?
(whatever it is slams into the door again)
GRETCHEN: That little yellow light's flashing, I think it's almost out of ---
(the light goes out, throwing the cellar into darkness. Camera image fades out to the sound of wood cracking).
END OF FOOTAGE.