The windows are boarded. The front steps are worn and dilapidated. In the early evening moonlight, the dwelling appears eerie and ghostly. A pre-storm breeze sways branches and blows leaves. Lightning flashes in the distance.
A final piece of duct tape is applied to the corner of a small table, dulling any sharp edges. The shades are pulled. The room sits in dark shadows broken by occasional bright shafts of light.
Jackson carefully picks up a Coleman lantern and sets it atop an empty can placed in the center and above the water line of a large metal tub-a fire protection moat.
Jackson finds his way to a chair in the center of the room, away from everything except a nearby table holding a fire extinguisher and a first aid kit, both at less than arm's reach.
Unshaven, a week and a half's growth, and unkept, Jackson looks horrible, like an anxious zombie, especially in the dim glow of the lantern. Dark circles are around his eyes from lack of sleep. He's thin from lack of food and pale from lack of sunlight.
He places workman's gloves on his hands before picking up a can of Underwood chicken spread. With some degree of difficulty, he works the gloves underneath the tab and pulls. Careful not to cut himself, he reaches out and drops the lid into a small trashcan.
With the plastic spoon, he begins to eat, chewing methodically with concentration until, after steadying himself prepares to swallow. Then he carefully does.
He pauses. He's alright. He takes the spoon, scoops up some more, and the process begins again.
Outside, wind of an approaching storm blows. The resulting thunder rumbles. A breeze blows beneath the door, carrying some autumn leaves. Jackson's pant leg slightly flutters.
Jackson sits in his safe chair. Paranoid and obsessively cautious, his eyes move towards the door, anticipating the consequential events. Following the path of the breeze, Jackson turns around.
The brown shopping bag, used as a trash bag, tips over. Amongst the trash spread on the floor, a can rolls out and across the floor.
Jackson tenses. He doesn't look to where the can has been, but to where it is going.
The can rolls across the flow and gently hit's the end of a fishing pole propped in the corner. The pole teeters and falls over. The fish hook falls, hooking a closet door, which begins to swing open.
Jackson is quickly out of his safe chair, hustling towards the door. He slams it shut before it can open. The point sharp end of an old fish scaling knife pokes through the door, centimeters from his nose, along with a crash of other falling objects in the closet.
Jackson removes the hooks from the door and places the pole on the ground. He slides down the door and cautiously opens it, revealing a tackle box that has spilled thick, rusted old Treble and Aberdeen fishing hooks upon the floor. He examines them, then rises to his feet.
As if talking to Death, he says, "Rusted. Tetanus. Nice touch." Defiantly, he continues. "I overlooked it. You tried to capitalize. But I caught you, you freak. I can beat you. Not forever, but I got this cabin rigged to beat you now!" He slams the door shut.
He hears a sound, like a thump, coming from near the cabin steps. He freezes, like an animal sensing danger. Thunder rumbles. A draft creeps beneath the glass enclosure on the Coleman lantern, causing the flame to dance.
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Melissa peeks out her window, careful not to be seen.
The unmarked F.B.I. sedan maintains surveillance. Fujimoto and Marin sit inside.
Distant, but approaching, thunder rumbles as Melissa steps away from the window. The weight of the world on her shoulders, she paces, considering her options.
She looks to an old frame on her bookshelf. A man in his early thirties holds a six year old girl in his arms, waving to the camera. Both appear happy and alive. They are standing before a cabin surrounded with thick woods. Melissa turns the photograph over. On the back, marked in a young girl's handwriting, it reads, "me and dad at the cabin. 1996."
She considers her life-then, now, and what is to come.
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Marin sits in the passenger seat, looking through a pair of binoculars. Fujimoto is behind the wheel.
"She was up there a minute ago," Marin said.
A figure steps in front of the driver's side window from the rear. The two agents are startled as Melissa Wu leans into the window. She pauses, gaining their trustworthiness, then says, "I'm not turning him in. There's another life that needs him now."
The two agents remain respectful.
"I go with you," Melissa said.
"You can't," Marin said back to her.
She considers, then understands. "Don't hurt him."
Marin says, "Tell us where he is. Wait at home, and I promise…we'll bring him back in protective custody."
Melissa senses the agent's sincerity.
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Distant thunder rumbles.
Jackson kindles a fire in the fireplace, balling up old newspapers. He begins to crumble the local news, then pauses, hungry for information about the outside world.
A headline catches his attention. Tense, Jackson hears the rumbling thunder. As he unrolls the paper, his expression is rocked, anxious. He cocks his head to consider, recalling.
The headline reads, "Parents To Establish Memorial Scholarships." Beside the headline are two yearbook photos: Christa Marsh and Blake Dreyer.
Jackson's expression reflects a terrified revelation. "I…never moved. Christa asked me to move, but I didn't change seats. I would've moved up…next to Lex. How could I not remember that. I never moved. Melissa's seat was in front of mine." He pauses a beat. "She's next."
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Melissa paces in her living room. She moves to the curtains and checks out the window.
Although it is not raining, lightning cracks across the sky. It strikes the top of a pole, snapping two power lines, which whip in the wind.
In her house, Melissa turns around as the power goes out. The room turns dark. Outside, brilliant bluish-white arc lights crackle. Melissa moves to the window.
The power lines arc, violently striking the ground and each other. Each line whips unpredictably, like an uncontrolled garden hose with the water turned on full. And yet, there's a mean, angry and taunting personality to the two power lines, as if Death were within them.
Melissa assesses the situation and moves a pair of candles on the mantle, lighting them with a match.
From the backyard, a dog barks.
Melissa brings the candle through the small house. She moves quickly to the kitchen, holding the candle. Outside, blue arc light crackles. Melissa looks out the backyard.
An old circular clothesline turns like a pinwheel in the wind. In the center of the yard is an oblong, tarped above-ground pool. In the furthest corner of the yard, her dog is chained to a tree, barking and freaked out. An old tire swings rocks in the storm. From the manner in which the house is situated and the length of the snapped power lines, one of the is capable of reaching the backyard. The power line strikes the ground, closing in on the dog.
Melissa considers the danger of venturing out to get the dog.
Although no window is open, and the power outage has shut off any air conditioning, the candle flame whips, then extinguishes. The blue smoke swirls ominously into the room.
On the clothesline, sharp metal edges spin, glinting blue are light.
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Jackson charges out the front door, leaping over the steps. Several cars are approaching, headlights panning across the trees. Jackson stops dead in his tracks to look, then runs of into the woods just as the F.B.I. unmarked sedan and three sheriff 4x4s thunder up to the cabin, siren lights swirling.
Marin is driving, leading the other vehicles. Fujimoto points out the passenger window. "There," he says.
Through the window, Marin sees Jackson disappear into the dark forest at full sprint.
The cars brake to a stop, skidding in the dirt. Sheriffs leap out of their vehicles. High powered flashlights shoot beams in Jackson's direction. The officers take off after the suspect.
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The backdoor opens. Melissa charges out into the backyard.
The dog is helpless. Its chain is wrapped around the tree.
Thunder rumbles.
Melissa begins to run.
The circular clothesline in whipped by a power line. Sparks fly as the base pole snaps in two. The metal pole plunge into the ground just before and behind Melissa, inches from impaling her. She stumbles, but quickly steps aside and continues toward the tree. The circular clothesline frame, rolled by the winds, soars across the yard toward the above-ground pool, puncturing it. Water streams from the rupture.
Melissa reaches the tree and begins unfastening the dog's collar from the chain.
The power lines, whipping, strike one another, causing an angry flash of electricity. The rivets holding the pools frame begin to break and pop. Water floods into the yard.
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Jackson blindly runs through the forest, the sheriffs' flashlight beams crossing behind him, in pursuit. Looking back to check the position of the agents, Jackson runs over the lip of a downward slope. He rolls and tumbles uncontrollably down the hillside. As he nears the base, he stops with a crunching thud, his face inches from being impaled by a sharp, thick protruding branch. No time to catch his breath, he's up and running.
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Water floods, pooling the backyard, cascading over Melissa's feet. She looks down. In the reflection of the puddle, the dark shadow passes. Melissa whips up, checking the position of the power line, which coils like a cobra, ready to strike.
Melissa drops the chain and gently pushes the dog on his backside. "Run!"
The dog starts to tear off toward the house. Melissa runs toward the hanging tire and leaps.
The power line whips, the frayed wires hitting the puddle of water.
Melissa desperately grabs the tire, hanging on, literally for her life. The dog yelps, safely on the sideline. Melissa turns back to see it is okay.
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Distant flashlights reflect in a small stream, barely two inches deep. Jackson splashes in the water.
Thunder rumbles.
Jackson races along the path of the stream. The sheriffs continue their pursuit through the dark trees.
Lightning cracks a tree branch. Sparks fly. The thick branch tumbles down, falling from above. It lands on top of Jackson. He's knocked to the ground and pinned, face down, in the creek. His face is just below the water line, but he can't move. He struggles, battles to move and avoid drowning in two inches of water.
As he struggles, Marin and a pair of sheriffs appear ten yards beyond him. They pause, confused, panning their flashlights across the forest. The lights actually expose the area where Jackson lies. From their position, however, he is covered by the branch and out of sight.
Jackson struggles to raise his head above the water, chest bursting.
Marin and the sheriffs, believing Jackson is not in the area, move ahead into the woods.
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Melissa pulls herself up to a tree branch. Lightning and thunder continue amongst the arcing, crackling power lines.
She searches for an escape. The tree branch extends toward the house. Straining in the storm, Melissa begins moving up the branch.
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Jackson, taking a tenth of a second to gather all of his strength, all his courage, arches his back, pushing with his hands, anything to lift his face out of the stream.
With a deep gasp, he does so, drinking up the air. It appears to infuse him with another blast of adrenaline as he manages to push with his arms and free himself from the pinning tree branch.
He pauses, only for a couple gulps of air, and is off.
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Melissa leaps from the end of the branch to her window, grabbing the sill awkwardly, dangling outside the house. With a breath, she pulls herself inside, just as the power line bites, arcing, at her feet.
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Marin looks around, frustrated. Into the radio, he says, "Lost him."
In another part of the forest, Fujimoto desperately scans the forest. "From the direction, there's only one place he could be heading."
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The power lines strike the rooftop.
Melissa Wu stands in her bedroom, just as it fills with blinding blue light. Her television screen blows out. Sparks jet across the room. Blasts of flame erupt from the electrical outlets. She quickly turns, racing towards the hallway.
Sparks explode from the lamps and electrical outlets as she runs. She falls and covers her head to protect it. Quickly deciding that staying here isn't safe, she jumps to her feet, cutting and leaping, three stairs at a time, down the staircase.
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Jackson tears across the fenceless backyards toward Melissa's house. He sees blue arc light glowing in the distance, coming from her front yard.
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An old corolla is parked amongst Melissa's artwork in the garage. A door, adjacent to the kitchen, flies open. Melissa hustles through, running to the car and entering via the passenger door, for the sake of expediency.
The power lines whack angrily against the garage door.
Melissa scoots into the driver's seat. She clicks the automatic garage door opener. Its motor, connected to a metal arm, attached to the door, remains motionless. There is no power.
Realizing the motor is dead, Melissa takes a beat, starts the engine, and shifts into reverse.
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Jackson reaches Melissa's backyard. He quickly tries to deduce the deadly situation, running back into the trees.
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Melissa guns the small car into reverse. As the rear of the car makes impact with the door, the garage opener trembles. The long metal arm collapses and falls.
Bam! In reverse, the corolla smashes through the garage door.
The metal arm of the garage door opener rips through the windshield, locking upon the windshield wiper grille. The other end remains attached to the garage roof interior, essentially acting as an anchor.
The car shudders, wheels spinning uselessly as the arm holds onto the car.
The screws holding the arm to the ceiling begin to pull away. A metal can on a shelf is rocked as, the car rattles the garage, trying to break free. The can is marked "turpentine: extremely flammable." The can tumbles over the shelf. The can smacks on the floor, edgewise, revealing the can is sealed tight with a cap.
The thick cable arcs, snapping toward the car.
Foot to the floor, Melissa screams for the car to move.
The door opener motor pulls away from the ceiling. The corolla lurches backwards, freed from the grasp of the house.
A chunk of the ceiling collapses upon Melissa's artworks, including the canvas incorporating a jagged piece of debris from Flight 180. The metal slams to the floor on top of the can of turpentine, which causes the flammable liquid to stream out, toward the driveway.
As the corolla lurches away from the house down the sloped driveway, the power line thuds upon Melissa's car, causing an ear-splitting crackle. Sparks fly. The electrical system of the small car erupts, and the engine dies. The car stops.
Jackson appears from the rear of the house, reacting to the situation. "Don't move," he yells to Melissa.
The power line sadistically rests atop the automobile. The exposed end of the cable flutters and whips like a cat's tail, sparkling, crackling, as it hit's the ground.
Melissa looks up desperately to Jackson, who extends his hands.
Cars approach thunderously.
"You're grounded by the tires. Don't touch anything. Don't move," Jackson said.
The unmarked F.B.I. vehicle and two sheriff patrol cars pull up on the street. Fujimoto and Marin hustle out of the car. "Cody, get away from there!" Marin yells. "Any part of that line touches you, you're dead," Fujimoto calls.
The power line snaps in Jackson's direction. He lurches back.
The stream of turpentine is ignited by a single spark from the power line. It flows toward the car.
Jackson backs away, eyes locked on Melissa's, assuring she's remaining in the car. Melissa keeps her eyes locked on Jackson, watching him.
Suddenly, a burst of flame flashes. Jackson reacts, shocked. The underbelly of the corolla has ignited from the stream of combustible fluid. He realizes. "The car's gonna explode!"
Fujimoto and Marin step forward.
The power line on the hood of the car whips, arcs, warning everyone away.
Melissa can see the flames. Her instinct is to grab the handle to get out.
Jackson steps closer. "No!" he says, stopping Melissa from touching the door handle.
"Get back! You'll both die!" Marin calls.
Hearing this, Jackson's mind is made up. He looks to Melissa. "I can only hold on for so long. You know what to do."
"Don't!" Melissa cries.
"When I do this…it'll have skipped you…and it will all be over," Jackson said.
"No!" Melissa yells, voice shaking. "Don't!"
"Melissa, I am not going to let it beat us both. You know what to do." In a calmer, quieter voice, Jackson says, "I'll always be with you." With that, he walks to the front of the car, preparing himself, staring Death in the eyes.
"No!" Melissa shrieks.
Jackson reaches out and grabs the power line. Getting her chance, Melissa opens the door and jumps out.
A small explosion erupts behind her, forcing both her and Jackson to the ground.
The agents break into a run.
The power line becomes still, sparks no longer shooting out.
Out of breath, the agents finally reach Melissa and fall to the ground as she gets up and runs to Jackson.
"Jackson? Jackson?!" She looks at his hands, burnt from holding the power line. "You can't do this to me. C'mon, Baby. C'mon."
The agents approach the garage. Fujimoto holds Melissa back while Marin examines Jackson. "Cody? Cody? Cody?" Marin leans his head down, checking to see if the boy is breathing. "Crap! He's not breathing. Hold on, Cody. C'mon. Stay with me." Marin begins pushing down on Jackson's chest, trying to get him to breathe.