Super: Houston, two years earlier
Begin with blackness and the sounds
of a storm: gusty wind and rain being driven in pulsating sheets that
rattle across the ground like snare drums. With a flash of lighting
and the nearly simultaneous crash of thunder, we hear a GASP and
suddenly see the storm through the eyes of an unidentified character.
PAN DOWN
The ground is soaked, pools of water
everywhere between broad shafts of St. Augustine grass that stick up
like spikes. In the near distance, horizontal rain sweeps through the
beams of a yard light; it is the only light to be seen.
PAN UP
In the near distance, across the
lawn, stands a tall office building whose lighted windows beckon.
Trees near the building are bent over by hurricane force winds that
howl. Lighting flashes, illuminating a large truck parked at a dock;
we briefly see the words America Still Works emblazoned on the side
of the trailer. Another flash. Next to the truck, a diesel generator
hums, keeping power to the building on.
PUSH IN TO BUILDING
We are moving to the building,
stumbling now and then, and we hear heavy,
jagged breathing. Past the truck, we see a steel-gray door
outlined by the light above it. An ashen gray hand reaches out to a
handle and pulls frantically.
The door is locked and will not
yield.
The hand retracts, and we hear the
sounds of rustling. Two hands emerge, shaking, one holding a wallet,
while the other opens the wallet and rummages through the card
holder, pulling out a white card emblazoned with the letters ASW. The
hand swipes the card through a reader next to the door, and we hear a
faint click as the lock releases. The hand pushes the door open.
We hear a small PLOP as something
falls.
PAN DOWN
On the concrete walkway, we see an
open wallet with cards strewn from it.
FOCUS ON DRIVERS LICENCE
We see a picture of a man in his
sixties. To the right of the picture, we see a name: Steven Mentzer.
The hands frantically scoop up the
cards.
PAN UP
We move through the doors, down a
hallway that empties into a lobby, next to a bank of elevators. A
hand rises and stabs the elevator call button.
PAN OVER
The elevator DINGS and the doors
swish open. Mirrors at the back of the car reveal a haggard man in a
torn suit. The man’s face is ashen, his lips blue, his eyes black,
but he is clearly STEVEN MENTZER even though he looks younger than
his driver’s license would indicate.
The man moves closer to the mirror
and looks down to his arm, which is bloody, the sleeves of his jacket
and white shirt torn. He looks to the small black device hanging by a
lanyard around his neck. A small green light glows.
The hands tremulously move up to the
device and press on the sides. The light turns red. The elevator
doors swish close.
CUT TO: Outside of elevator.
We hear a guttural SCREAM of rage
followed by the sound of breaking glass.
FADE OUT
A SONG plays:
FADE INTO
A television commercial, a slick,
professional production. A muscular man, dressed as an Aztec warrior,
scowls into the camera. He holds a large shield in front of his chest
and speaks in SPANISH, SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH:
AZTEC WARRIOR
Some people say Mexico cannot be a
player in the new world economy, that Mexico lacks the ability to
create and manufacture world-class goods. . . Well, to such people, I
have one thing to say . . .
The warrior lowers his shield to
reveal a snug-fitting singlet emblazoned with the phrase “Mexico
Works!”
AZTEC WARRIOR
Mexico Works!
A SONG PLAYs:
The commercial switches to a montage
of shots showing large trucks rolling past Mexican landmarks and
icons: Monumento a la Independencia, El Zócalo, and the Paseo de la
Reforma. The drivers wave or blow their horns, and on the side of
each trailer, in huge type, are the words “Mexico Works!”
The commercial switches back to the
Aztec Warrior, who is now standing on the trailers of two large
“Mexico Works” trucks parked end-to-end, his muscular legs
straddling the gap. In the background, we see a massive manufacturing
plant, or maquiladoro.
SONG FADES to background
AZTEC WARRIOR
Business managers, if you love
Mexico, you need “Mexico Works!”
JUMP CUT TO:
A second commercial. Another slick,
professional production. A muscular man dressed as a RUSSIAN COSSACK
stands with crossed arms and scowling face. The Cossack speaks in
RUSSIAN, SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH:
COSSACK
Some people say Russia cannot be a
player in the new world economy, that Russian lacks the ability to
create and manufacture world-class goods. . . Well, to such people, I
have one thing to say . . .
The Cossack rips off his coat to
reveal a snug-fitting singlet emblazoned with the phrase “Russia
Works!”
COSSACK
Russia Works!
A SONG PLAYS:
The commercial switches to a montage
of shots showing large trucks rolling past Russian landmarks and
icons: Red Square, Zvezdny Gorodok (Star City), and the winter palace
in Leningrad. The drivers wave or blow their horns, and on the side
of each trailer, in huge type, are the words “Russia Works!”
The commercial switches back to the
Cossack, who is now standing next to an engine of the Trans-Siberian
Railroad. In the background, the engineer looks at us from the window
as the Cossack speaks.
SONG FADES to background
COSSACK
Business managers, if you love
Russia, you need “Russia Works!”
In the b.g., the engineer toots his
horn, and the train slowly begins to move.
JUMP CUT TO:
A third commercial. A muscular man,
a BRITISH BUSINESSMAN, dressed in a form-fitting pin-striped suit and
bowler hat, stands on Westminster Bridge, with Parliament looming in
the background. He scowls into the camera and speaks using an
aristocratic accent.
British businessman
Some people say Britain has lost the
its edge, that we, the progeny of an empire that once spanned the
globe, have become shadows of our former selves, consumers instead of
producers and directors of the global economy. . . Well, to such
people, I have one thing to say . . .
The man rips open his suit jacket
and shirt (think Clark Kent revealing the “S” on his Superman
uniform) to reveal a snug-fitting singlet emblazoned with the phrase
“Britain Works!”
BRITISH BUSINESSMAN
Britain Works!
A SONG PLAYS: BLACK SABBATH’s
N.I.B.
The commercial switches to a montage
of shots showing large trucks rolling past British landmarks and
icons: the London Eye, the Battersea Power Station, and the Dublin
chimneys. The drivers wave or blow their horns, and on the side of
each trailer, in huge type, are the words “Britain Works!”
The commercial switches back to the
British Businessman, who is now standing in front of the Dover Cliffs
SONG FADES to background.
BRITISH BUSINESSMAN
Business managers, if you love
Britain, you need “Britain Works!”
The camera pulls out, revealing that
the man is standing on the bow of a massive container ship. Atop the
ships are stacks of containers, all of which are emblazoned with the
words “Britain Works!”
MOS as a fourth commercial begins,
this one showing A MUSCULAR YOUNG MAN DRESSED IN LEDERHOSEN AND A
FEATHERED HAT.
The man speaks, soundlessly, tears
open his shirt to reveal the words “Deutschland Arbeitet,” three
trucks with “Deutschland Arbeitet” written on the sides roll by
German landmarks, and then the guy in lederhosen says something else.
WOODY, a former Texas prison guard
is speaking off screen.
WOODY (V.O.)
After Houston, I travelled to El
Paso with the Russians, and we kicked some zombie butt. Only it was
just the beginning, because the problem had spread faster than we
realized. We cut a swath through New Mexico, Arizona, and Nevada,
mowing down zombie workers in factories and businesses clustered
along the border.
We must have killed—maybe I should
say “disabled” because zombies ain’t really alive, they just
act that way—we must have disabled thousands.
Then we got to thinking. Me, Lev,
Yakov, and Grisha, we got to thinking, what’s so wrong about using
zombie labor? The zombies don’t care—they’re just virus-driven
masses of dead tissue who don’t give a fuck about being unpaid
slaves with no future.
The only people who get hurt by
zombie outsourcing are the zombie’s food—they prefer living human
flesh when they can get it—but there’s no end of good meat
sitting in prisons. Think anybody cares what happens to murderers,
rapists, and pedophiles? . . . I haven’t found many who do.
And then there’s the terrorist
assholes who think life means blowing up other people to make some
point nobody ever gets. Anybody stupid enough to believe that
randomly killing people changes the way society behaves deserves to
be zombie dinner.
You just have to define your ethical
boundaries. . . As long as you define your ethical boundaries, nobody
gets hurt. Nobody that anybody cares about.
Take Ciudad Juarez, El Paso’s
sister city across the border in Mexico, for example. Juarez is my
territory. Crime-torn Juarez, home to drug cartels that run rampant
over good people, extorting money, murdering when they don’t get
it. . .
Let’s just say that I saw an
opportunity to right some wrongs and make a few pesos in the
meantime.
Ain’t nothing wrong with that,
right?
Fade Out
A SONG PLAYS: RAGE AGAINST THE
MACHINE’S “rODEO”
FADE INTO:
EARTH FROM HIGH ORBIT—SLOWLY
SPINNING. zoom in and place a stylyzed skull (representing dia de los
muertes) on ciudad juarez, just across the border from el paso.
SUPER: JUAREZ, MEXICO, HOME OF 2,500
‘MAQUILADOROS,’ OUTSOURCED U.S. MANUFACTURING PLANTS. IN 2009,
THERE WERE ONLY ABOUT 300.
SONG FADES
CUT TO: EXT—cuidad Juarez
Maquiladora—day
A young man, SANCHO CRUZ, clad in
jeans, tee shirt, and sandals ambles down a back-alley street past
non-descript office buildings and warehouses. A daypack dangles from
one shoulder, sagging heavily at the bottom.
POV Sancho: Ahead is a doorway
guarded by two muscular men holding automatic weapons. As he
approaches, the nearest man coolly appraises Sancho, nods, and pushes
open the door.
Sancho enters, unslinging the
daypack as he walks down a hallway. We see one hand plunge into the
pack and pull back a fragmentation grenade. Sancho pulls the safety
pin on the grenade and holds the safety bar down with his thumb. He
turns a corner and sees another guard standing next to a door. The
guard nods and steps forward, walking past Sancho, who is left
standing in the hall before the door.
FOCUS ON: Hand holding the
grenade.
Sancho’s thumb releases the safety
lever, and we hear him softly count to himself: Uno, dos, . . .
He opens the
door, tosses in the grenade, pulls the door closed, and slides down
the wall.
SHOUTS and the
SCUFFLING OF FEET come from inside the room, and then the BOOM of the
grenade exploding in a closed space erases all other sounds.
Dust billows from around the sides
of the door.
Sancho places the daypack on the
ground, reaches inside, and pulls out a pistol and a huge syringe of
the type used with cattle. He pulls a plastic case out of a side
pocket, extracts a long needle, and fits the needle onto the syringe.
He rummages around in the pack again and pulls out a bundle of thick
nylon safety ties held together with a rubber band. Last, he pulls
out a small black box from another side pocket and flips a switch on
the side. A green light glows at one end of the box.
He stands up, chambers a shell, and
walks briskly through the door.
Inside, we see about twenty bodies
and chairs strewn across a windowless room. Most of the bodies appear
to be dead, but two moan; Sancho walks over to the groaners and
shoots them in the heart.
He binds the hands of all the bodies
using the safety ties.
He picks up the syringe and injects
each body. He doesn’t bother to change the needle.
Finished, he packs up, slings his
pack across a shoulder, and walks out of the room, closing the door
behind him.
CUT TO: A TABLE OUTSIDE A CANTINA
Sancho sits at the table, a beer
before him, and removes a phone from his pocket. He dials and speaks.
In the b.g. we see the door where
the two guards had stood earlier.
SANCHO
Twenty!
He listens.
SANCHO
Necesito sesenta! I had to pay off
three guards.
He listens again, nodding,
apparently satisfied at what he is hearing.
SANCHO
Acuerdo.
He hangs up, places his phone on the
table, picks up the beer, and holds it out in the direction of the
previously guarded door.
SANCHO
Prost! que Muthas!
Your sorry asses are now worth
something!
a song plays: rage against the
machine’s “sleep now in the fire”
CUT TO: ANOTHER TABLE OUTSIDE
ANOTHER CANTINA
Woody hands up his phone and slips
it into the front pocket of his white guayabera shirt. He is seated
at a table, wearing chino shorts, huaraches, a Panama hat, and
sunglasses. On the table is a cold beer; he takes a sip and motions
to somebody OS.
ANGLE ON
A man standing next to the open
passenger door of a cargo truck sees Woody wave. He turns and climbs
into the truck, which moves off, raising dust from the road.
We follow the truck as it meanders
through narrow streets.
SONG FADES INTO BACKGROUND BUT KEEPS
PLAYING
WOODY (VO)
Nobody gives a rat’s ass about
drug lords getting killed—except for maybe the drug lords.
Sucks for them.
The truck arrives at the doorway
through which Sancho had gone earlier. In the b.g., we see Sancho
rise and walk away.
WOODY
The motherfuckers were totally
useless in real life. . . Nothing but leeches on society.
The way I figure it, we convert them
into something useful.
The guards we saw earlier prod their
drug lord-cum-zombie bosses to the back of the truck, push them over
to flop onto the truck bed, and then roll them to the front.
WOODY
The worst ones, the really brutal
and sadistic drug lords? The ones that rape and kill kids, or make
loved ones watch while they off somebody? . . . They get special
treatment.
JUMP CUT TO:
An old bullfight arena, crowded,
noisy.
PAN to show 360 degrees of stands
filled with screaming, joyous people standing behind concertina wire.
Angle on
In the center of the ring stand five
men, their backs pressed against a tall pole atop which sits a black
box with a green light on top. Each man has a machete gripped tightly
in one hand, and all stare at the entry doors to the arena floor.
P.A. ANNOUNCER(VO)
(Speaking in Spanish with English
subtitles)
Let justice be served!
The arena doors BANG open, and
dozens of zombies amble out, prodded by handlers. The handlers
return, closing the doors behind them, and then we hear the THUNK of
a crossbeam being placed on the doors to hold them closed.
TIGHT ON EYES OF THE FIVE MEN
The men, each a reviled drug lord
with a long history of barbarism, knows what is coming. They stand
back-to-back, in a rare alliance, hoping to fend off the inevitable.
PA ANNOUNCER
(VO)
It’s dinner time!
A SONG PLAYS: RAGE AGAINST THE
MACHINE’S “PEOPLE OF THE SUN”
The green light atop the pole goes
out.
The zombies go from docile to
deadly, and they immediately rush at the five men.
The men hack with their machetes,
and they manage to hold off the first wave of attackers. They even do
well against the second wave.
But the zombies don’t seem to mind
losing a hand or even an entire arm; they just keep coming, and
coming, and the men are finally bowled over.
Sounds of SCREAMS, bones CRACKING,
and WET MEATY NOISES of the sort you hope never to hear.
REVERSE ANGLE
The crowd goes wild.
JUMP CUT TO
The truck we were following earlier
drives away from the arena. We follow it along more narrow streets
that finally debouch onto a main road. The truck follows the road
until it comes to a modern warehouse surrounded by tall chain link
fencing topped with concertina wire. The sign out front proclaims,
“Mexico Works!”
WOODY (VO)
Like I was saying, we saw an
opportunity to right some wrongs and make a few pesos in the
meantime. . . Nah—there ain’t nothing wrong with that.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
INT. DARKENED OFFICE. NIGHT.
Super: Houston, two years earlier.
FOCUS ON WINDOW
We see a reflection of the room in
the wall-high window. In front of the window is a desk that faces the
door.
The wind howls outside as we look
upon Houston in the middle of a hurricane. Simultaneous with a
lightning flash and roll of thunder, the door SLAMS open, and a
silhouetted figure is lighted in the doorway. We hear RAGGED
BREATHING.
The figure SLAMS the door closed,
locks it with fumbling fingers, and stumbles toward the window,
placing his hands upon the glass and looking at his reflection: the
gray skinned Steven Mentzer. He continues looking, eyes crazed, for
several seconds, and then he closes his eyes and his breathing
gradually slows.
Mentzer opens his eyes, turns, and
sits in the chair behind the desk.
Mentzer
(Speaking to self)
Focus! Control!
You were given the antiviral. You
can control this!
FOCUS ON WRISTBAND
Mentzer's wristband shows the green
light again. He reaches over with his other hand and presses the
sides of the band. The light goes red.
Mentzer's hands tense spasm, and he
rips an arm off of the chair.
PAN UP
The gray skin on Mentzer’s face is
boiling, muscles and tendons in spastic tension. He closes his eyes.
Mentzer
(Gasping) Con . . . troll!
Slowly, the spasms slow to a mild
tick.
Focus on eyes
Mentzer’s eyes open. He is in
control.
FADE OUT
A SONG PLAYS: LENINGRAD’S “Menya
Zovut Shnur”
FADE IN TO
EARTH FROM HIGH ORBIT—SLOWLY
SPINNING. zoom in and place a BIG RED star on MOSCOW, RUSSIA.
SUPER: MOSCOW, RUSSIA. NEW AGE
Center OF COMPUTER AND HIGH-TECH MANUFACTURING.
cut to: EXT—MOSCOW, RED SQUARE—DAY
St Basil's cathedral looms in the
background. Two young men and a young woman dressed in jeans and
overcoats walk across a light skiff of snow, sipping coffee drinks in
Starbucks cups. All three wear identical sunglasses with thick black
frames and little red stars on the temples.
The camera follows the young people
as LEV NEVISKY, son of IVAN NEVISKY (one of the scientists who
introduced the zombie virus and who was subsequently infected with
the virus himself), speaks off screen IN ENGLISH WITH A RUSSIAN
ACCENT.
SONG FADES
LEV (VO)
When labor is
cheap, you can build anything anywhere. Take computers.
Not easy to make computers here in
Russia and then sell them around the globe. . . Too much cost to
ship, for one thing. . . And there are other things wrong with
manufacturing in Russia too, like being so cold much of the year that
you freeze your balls off
But those things are not so bad when
you have cheap labor. With cheap labor, you can do things you could
not otherwise do.
And what is the cheapest labor?
Zombie labor! With zombie labor on production line, a new company,
Red Star Computers, could afford top-notch computer designers, and
just like that: success! A genuine high-tech Russian company that
competes around the globe, selling computers you wear.
Pretty cool, yes?
(Sighing, long pause)
. . . Frankly, I had not expected to
be in business of supplying zombie workers so soon after working with
Dr. Shevosky in America to eliminate zombies . . . but a person has
to work.
Even Woody, our American prison
guard friend who helped us kill many zombies, is selling zombie
workers in Mexico. I understand he kills drug bosses and injects them
with the zombie virus, so he is killing two tweety-birds with single
stone. Not bad.
The voice of GRISHA, one of Lev’s
friends, interrupts briefly.
GRISHA (VO)
I think they are just birds—not
tweety-birds only.
LEV (VO)
What the fuck I say?
GRISHA (VO)
You say Woody kill two tweety-birds
with single stone, but saying does not specify type of bird. Any bird
will do. yYou just need kill two with single stone.
LEV (VO)
Okay, okay! So he kill two birdy
with single stone. You happy now?
GRISHA (VO)
You bet. I grin like opossum eating
persimmons through picket fence. . . Is saying I learned in Texas:
opossum grin big when eat persimmons through picket fence!
LEV (VO)
What the fuck is persimmon? . . .
Wait. Never mind. Just shut up!
Dr. Shevosky was our leader in
America. We hunted down zombies created by Dr. Mentzer, a Cold War
prick who had been boss of Shevosky and my Papka.
(Sighs)
My Papka . . . he became zombie when
he was bitten. We found him and that asshole Mentzer in Houston
during big-ass hurricane, almost two years ago now—just before me,
Woody, Grisha, and Yakov take off for El Paso.
(Beat)
We have not seen or heard from Dr.
Shevosky or my Papka since. We fear they may have been killed.
GRISHA (VO)
We not hear about Dr. Mentzer
neither. I hope is ass is dead too.
LEV (VO)
Why you say “too?” We do not
know if Dr. Shevosky and my Papka are dead. You jinx them!
GRISHA (VO)
Okay, okay! We hope Dr Mentzer’s
ass is dead, and we do not know if any other asses are also dead.
Happy?
LEV (VO)
Sometimes, I wish your ass was . . .
A third voice, that of YAKOV,
interrupts.
YAKOV (VO)
Shut up, both of you, before you
ruin story!
A SONG PLAYS: LENINGRAD’S “Menya
Zovut Shnur” CONTINUES PLAYING
The young people reach a brown
building, an old factory with high windows that probably dates back
to the 1930s or earlier. At the top of the building is a large red
star—the logo of Red Star Computers.
They open the front door and enter
into a typical cubicle maze: in every cubicle is a young person—even
younger than the three who just entered—and all are wearing the
same sunglasses with the red star on the temples.
A YOUNG WOMAN wearing a white clean
room suit, hood, and sunglasses approaches one of the men, SERGEI
YUSEV, who just entered. She looks at the others, her gaze slightly
averted when she gazes at the other woman, and then SPEAKS IN RUSSIAN
WITH ENGLISH SUBTITLES to Sergei.
SONG FADES
Young Woman
We had contamination in Fab 3, but
it was quickly contained
SERGEI
Show me!
CLOSE ON SERGEI’s glasses.
We see backwards numbers scrolling
across and down the lenses—the sunglasses are the Red Star
computers.
A SONG PLAYS: LENINGRAD’S “MAY”
JUMP CUT TO
Inside a large manufacturing bay,
workers in clean room suits and hoods stand next to a conveyor belt
holding Red Star sunglasses. The ear pieces of the sunglasses are
open, showing green circuit boards. The workers are zombies. Each
performs some operation on the glasses using small tools.
FOCUS ON worker adjusting an
internal screw using a small screwdriver. In the b.g. we see another
worker, slightly out of focus, as something falls from the worker’s
face and explodes into powder.
CLOSE ON WORKER IN BACKGROUND
We see that the worker, whose eyes
are twisted inward to investigate, is missing his nose.
ANGLE ON ASSEMBLY LINE
The missing nose lies on the
assembly line, fractured into chalky pieces. A small cloud of dead
tissue slowly settles.
SONG FADES
LEV (VO)
I talk again, now, to explain:
Although cheap, using zombies is not without cost.
Is especially a problem since virus
improved to allow reanimation of bodies longer dead. Scientists with
America Still Works make discovery and share with other
zombiesourcing organizations around the globe.
Originally, bodies had to be
injected without six hours, but now bodies having been dead for days
and even weeks are being used—mainly because we are running out of
freshly killed murderers and rapists.
Old bodies sometimes lose pieces. .
.
JUMP CUT TO THE THREE YOUNG PEOPLE
Sergei turns to his two companions
and speaks in RUSSIAN WITH ENGLISH SUBTITLES.
SERGEI
Damn!
We need to get those face shields in
use for fabrication. These falling pieces are becoming a quality
control nightmare! We’ll have to reject the entire batch in that
section!
Sergei mutters for a moment and then
looks up at his two companions.
I must attend to this issue. I will
catch up with you later.
He turns back to the woman in the
clean room suit, nods, and walks away briskly; the woman follows.
FOCUS ON the remaining man (ANATOLY
KERCHEV) and woman (NATASHA SHEVOSKY).
Anatoly shrugs, but Natasha scowls
angrily. Pulling a phone from a pocket of her coat, she dials.
NATASHA
That idiot Nevisky better have a
solution!
A SONG PLAYS: LENINGRAD’S
“K@K@/In”
CUT TO
INT—WAREHOUSE—DAY
The daylight warehouse is empty
except for a small wooden table and three seated figures.
ZOOM IN AND PAN AROUND THE TABLE
Upon the table sits a half-empty
bottle of vodka, three shot glasses, and three cell phones.
Seated in wooden chairs around the
table are LEV, YAKOV, and GRISHA. All three look gloomy.
A BUZZING NOISE IS HEARD—one of
the phones is vibrating. All three men look at the table; LEV picks
up his phone, which is buzzing and flashing. He looks at the display
and frowns. THE MEN SPEAK IN RUSSIAN WITH ENGLISH SUBTITLES.
SONG FADES
LEV
Fuck me! Shevoksy’s granddaughter
again!
YAKOV
No doubt calling to bust your balls
again about Red Star’s zombie workers.
LEV
(Sighing)
No doubt.
He presses the speaker button and
places the phone on the table.
LEV
(With feigned enthusiasm)
Natasha! How good to hear from you
my dear!
I was just telling my compatriots
how lovely you are and how we miss hearing from you!
SPLIT SCREEN
NATASHA
Skip the false flattery you big
baboon! We are hemorrhaging money because your workers are falling to
pieces!
Why must you send me these decaying
husks? Why can you not find fresher bodies?
LEV
Dearest Natasha, surely you realize
that we have difficulty finding enough workers to satisfy the great
demand. Every business in Russia want zombies, but there are not
enough dying people to go around—at least not enough of the right
kind. We can only take those who meet our exacting requirements.
NATASHA
(Spluttering laugh)
Exacting requirements? You are
sending me workers who need another worker just to sweep up the
pieces that drop off. How can I run a sensitive manufacturing line
with these things?
LEV
Natasha, my love, we are all
squeezed by the lack of supply. There are simply not enough zombies
to go around, and I have to take care of my other customers as well.
I am juggling many balls here.
NATASHA
Get me better workers, or I will be
squeezing your balls!
Natasha hangs up.
SPLIT SCREEN OFF
Lev stares at his phone for a moment
before reaching over to turn it off.
GRISHA
(Looking at Yakov)
Could be pleasant to have her
squeezing your balls, no?
LEV
(Looking off into distance)
How did we get into this shitting
situation?
YAKOV
Simple: we needed money and
something to do once Shevosky disappeared. A man can live off of
stolen credit cards for only so long.
Fortunately, Vladimir came to our
aid.
LEV
Da. . . I guess Vladimir did—even
if he is a dick. But who would have thought that we would go straight
from killing zombies to selling them?
And now, we don’t have enough
zombies.
GRISHA
Men do what they must to survive.
Lev ponders for a moment, nodding
slowly. Then he reaches for the bottle, fills his glass, and quickly
downs a shot.
LEV
Da. It could be worse.
But still I wonder . . . what
happened to Shevosky, Papka, and that Dr. Mentzer who started it all?
FADE OUT
A SONG PLAYS: IRON MAIDEN’S “tHE
EVIL THAT MEN DO”
FADE IN ON:
EARTH FROM HIGH ORBIT—SLOWLY
SPINNING. zoom in to LONDON, ENGLAND.
CUT TO:
int—high windowed conference room
with view of st. pauls cathedral in the distance—DAY
At the Headquarters of NEW ERA
OUTSOURCING, LTD, men in business suits sit around a long table,
their affiliations revealed by folded name tents placed before them.
SONG FADES
CUT TO:
POV a CLERICAL person (VALERIE)
enters the room behind a man in a dark blue suit; the man walks to
the head of the table while Valerie places a spiral-bound document
and a name tent in front of each attendee. All we see of her is
shapely backside and her smoothly tanned arms.
FOCUS ON each name tent as Valerie
moves around the table; the tents read as follows:
Britain Still Works
America Still Works
Russia Still Works
Mexico Still Works
Brazil Still Works
Canada Still Works
Germany Still Works
Spain Still Works
France Still Works
Ukraine Still Works
Argentina Still Works
Japan Still Works
Italy Still Works
As the last packet is handed out,
FOCUS ON Valerie’s arms: the smooth brown tan seems to have been
marked by the pages of the packets she was carrying—we see thin
lines of whitish-gray.
Valerie rubs her arms and the lines
disappear, but we notice on her left wrist a blank plastic bracelet
with a small green light glowing on top.
DANIEL HIGGINS, whose placard says
NEW ERA OUTSOURCING, LTD begins to speak. He is dressed impeccably,
his suit shouting “money,” his tan shouting “more money,” and
his ultra-white smile shouting “money to burn.” Your average Joe
would immediately peg Higgins as a colossal dick, but there are no
average Joes in this room—just other money-grubbing,
get-ahead-at-all-cost dicks, and they are blind to their own
dickness.
HIGGINS
(Smiling broadly)
Gentlemen!
Welcome to the first annual New Era Outsourcing roundtable meeting.
I am Daniel
Higgins, Chairman and CEO, and it is my distinct pleasure to welcome
you pioneers who are changing the shape of global labor!
Higgins spreads his arms wide, the
very picture of a huckster.
Please! Feel free to applaud
yourselves!
Higgins claps enthusiastically,
causing the other members of the meeting to break out in sporadic
applause as well. The clapping continues for several seconds as the
camera pans the faces around the table. Most of the faces are
smiling, but a few, most notably that of the Russian, are scowling.
Higgins eggs them on for a few more
moments, and then signals for an end to the group masturbation.
HIGGINS
I thought it appropriate to start
our meeting by recognizing how far we have come in so little time,
but as we do have a very aggressive agenda, I should like to . . .
The man sitting behind the Russia
Still Works sign (VLADIMIR ROSKOV) interrupts abruptly.
ROSKOV
Excuse me, please! A question first.
HIGGINS
Of course. Go ahead Mr. .
. .
Higgins leans forward to read the
name at the bottom of Roskov’s name tent.
ROSKOV
Roskov. Vladimir Roskov.
(Beat)
The extended reanimation virus is
not producing the quality result we hoped for; my people tell me the
longer-dead reanimates are not meeting the quality standards required
for work in technology manufacturing: pieces are always falling off.
(Bangs the table with his fist.) We
need better!
Roskov’s comment triggers a
general muttering of assent, and the men around the table break into
a multitude of discussions regarding shared experiences with zombies
that drop pieces at the wrong time.
GERMAN REPRESENTATIVE
(Speaking with thick German accent)
We have reports of people finding
pieces in automobiles.
CUT TO:
A young man proudly drives up to his
friends in a new Volkswagen. His friends climb in, and a passenger in
the back reaches down and holds up a decaying human foot.
FRENCH REPRESENTATIVE
(Speaking with thick French accent)
Cheeses that contain human digits!
Cut to:
Zombie workers pour milk from large
tubs into larger vats. One worker severs a finger after it gets
caught between the tub and the vat. The finger tumbles into the vat
with a PLOP.
CUT TO MEETING:
The meeting threatens to spin out of
control.
POV Higgins.
HIGGINS
(Holding up hands in a gesture
requesting forbearance)
Gentlemen! Gentlemen!
I beg you to keep your focus on all
that has been accomplished and all that can be accomplished! We are
facing a normal challenge on the road to success and riches!
Demand for our services is through
the roof, gentlemen! Absolutely through the roof! Our ads are playing
in all your home countries, and I have enquiries from at another
dozen countries looking to set up their own franchises.
People around the globe are becoming
comfortable with using the dead as a cost-effective source of labor,
and the forward trend looks to be very positive.
Now, is this process of creating
viable workers from dead tissue perfect? No . . . I’ll be the first
to admit it . . . but we mustn’t allow ourselves to see our
temporary setbacks as more than a bump in the road.
Roskov
A rather big bump, no?
Higgins
Give me just a little more time, and
. . .
STEVEN MENTZER (OS)
Give you more time, Mr. Higgens, and
somebody else will find a way to satisfy the market first!
All turn to see Dr. Stephen Mentzer
enter the room. He is fit, tanned, and much younger than his years.
He strides forcefully to the head of the table and looks squarely at
Roskov.
Mentzer
There is a solution to your problem,
Vladimir. A solution that will tap a huge and growing population that
is both labor force and food supply. This population is currently
nothing but a drain on the economy; we can turn it into a gold mine!
ROSKOV
I am listening.
Dr. Mentzer takes a small electronic
device from his pocket and presses a button. A large video screen
rises at the end of the table. He presses another button and the
scree shows a chart labeled “Population aged 60 or over: world and
development regions, 1950-2050.”
Mentzer
The world is aging! In particular,
the less-developed world is aging faster than anywhere else, but they
do not have the resources to care for their aged.
I believe we can offer a solution!
In fact, some enterprising individuals here in Great Britain have
already seized upon this opportunity and are exploiting it to great
success.
Higgins
Dr. Higgins, with all due respect,
the opportunity to which you refer involves convincing older
residents with little money to sell the use of their dead bodies. We
are not sure the practice is entirely legal . . .
Mentzer
Legal? Laws are made by men, are
they not? Where there is a will, laws can be changed!
Higgins
But is it ethical?
Mentzer
I am a businessman, Mr. Higgins!
Don’t talk to me about ethics!
If you don’t have the stomach to
do what must be done, then I have chosen the wrong person to lead New
Era Outsourcing. I need men of vision who are not afraid to try
something new!
Mentzer makes a sweeping motion with
his hand to indicate the thirteen country representatives seated at
the table.
Mentzer
I have no doubt that Mr. Roskov and
I will see eye-to-eye on this matter.
Roskov nods and says nothing, but he
clearly respects Mentzer much more than Higgins.
Mentzer
Valerie! The box!
We finally see all of Valerie, who
is a striking blonde woman with the kind of tan you wouldn’t expect
people to have in Britain: too dark, too even. She moves to a
credenza behind Mentzer, opens a door, and removes a wooden box. She
carries the box to the table, places it next to Mentzer, and opens
it.
PAN DOWN
The box contains fourteen syringes,
two gas masks, and a small metal cylinder.
Mentzer hands one gas mask to
Valerie, who places it over her mouth and nose.
PAN AROUND
Thirteen pairs of surprised eyes
indicate that nobody has any idea what is up. The fourteenth pair,
belonging to Higgins, radiate fear.
Mentzer
Welcome to the inner circle,
gentlemen.
Mentzer presses a button on the
remote in his hand. A severe THUNK is heard as the bolt lock on the
conference door rams home. He then picks up the second gas mask,
holds it to his face, and presses a button atop the metal cylinder in
the box. White gas explodes out and obscures the room.
FADE OUT
A SONG PLAYS: ZZ TOP’s “Balinese,”
a reference to a defunct GALVESTON TEXAS CASINO.
FADE IN ON:
EARTH FROM HIGH ORBIT—SLOWLY
SPINNING. zoom in and place a mark on Galveston.
ZOOM IN on the Strand District. It
is day.
From above, focus on a second floor
balcony rimmed by a wrought iron fence. A man sits there (DR. ARSENY
SHEVOSKY), reading a spiral-bound report.
PUSH IN
On the bistro table next to him is a
half-full coffee cup and the Galveston County Daily News, folded in
half. The headline on the newspaper reads, “ZOMBIE LABOR: THE NEW
NORM?”
CUT TO POV ON BALCONY
Shevosky raises the coffee cup,
sips, and grimaces. He lowers the report, folds the newspaper under
one arm with the headline showing, rises, and, still holding the cup,
enters an open doorway into a room lit only by the natural light
streaming in through windows that look out at the bay.
The room is sparsely furnished with
old pieces that might have been new in the early 1900s—probably
purchased after the great Hurricane of 1900. The floors are wood, and
tin molding accents the high ceilings.
Shevosky continues walking, pushing
through a swinging door into a room that is the opposite of the
previous: windowless, harshly lit, and industrially sterile. It is a
laboratory, dominated by stainless steel tables and shelves upon
which sit instruments and vials.
At one of the tables sits a figure
in a dark blue sweatshirt with the word “Rice” on it, hood
obscuring the head, and black trousers. The figure is studying the
screen of a laptop computer. Next to the computer is a syringe full
of dark fluid.
Shevosky empties the contents of his
cup into a sink against one wall and pours fresh coffee from a
stainless steel carafe sitting on the counter. He turns and walks
over to the hooded figure; on the screen of the computer is an image
of microscopic organisms gyrating and spinning in a flat world.
Focus on the figure: What little we
can see of the figure’s skin is tones of pale gray and white. We
also see a black plastic bracelet with a small green light on one
wrist.
Shevosky plops the report and the
newspaper next to the figure, then clears his throat.
SHEVOSKY
I have been reading Arjun’s
report. His analysis indicates what we feared most: traditional
outsourcing is being replaced by use of reanimates around the globe.
Companies everywhere are using and
clamoring for reanimates, and there are not enough to meet the
demand. Consequently, people are being killed
and converted.
(The hooded figure shows no
indication of interest, so Shevosky continues.)
There is even some kind of reverse
amortization scheme being used in Britain; people with large debts
can settle what they owe by agreeing to become reanimated after they
die.
I suppose the idea is that they then
work off their debts instead of passing it along to their children. I
wonder if they know what they are getting into?
IRIS FADE OUT:
IRIS FADE IN:
INT—ENGLISH LIVING ROOM—DAY
A SALESMAN in a poorly-fitting
off-the-rack suit sitting next to a coffee table turns a thick
contract so that an elderly woman on the other side can see it. He
smiles widely and speaks in a Cockney accent.
SALESMAN
There you go now, mum! All we need
is your signature on the line, and your debts will be cleared up!
No more getting those calls and
visits from the nasty debt collectors for you—just plenty of time
to enjoy your sojourn on God’s green earth! . . . And your tea and
cribbage!
ELDERLY WOMAN
(Haltingly, struggling to decide.)
Oh . . . my. It will be so nice to
not have the burden of debt handing over my head. . .
(Beat) After Bertie died, I just
couldn’t seem to keep the books in order, and I made some bad
investments.
SALESMAN
(Thoughtfully)
I blame the unfeeling parasites who
feed off your pain, mum. Bleeding cockroaches they are, always taking
advantage of good folk, like yourself, what are down and out.
It does my heart good to know that
I’m helping you give the rascals the boot! Really, it does! I’ll
sleep like the proverbial babe tonight, I will!
ELDERLY WOMAN
(Reaches across and touches the
salesman’s hand.)
You are so thoughtful.
The salesman hangs his head, sniffs,
and looks up teary-eyed.
SALESMAN
It’s moments like these that make
the job all the reward I need, mum. Truly it is!
Without breaking eye contact, the
salesman smoothly proffers a pen.
SALESMAN
All I need is your signature, luv.
The woman signs and then chuckles.
ELDERLY WOMAN
This is so silly, but . . . well,
I’m . . I’m selling me body, ain’t I?
SALESMAN
(Smiling conspiratorially)
Indeed you are, mum, but me lips are
sealed!
Both chuckle at the thought of the
old woman selling her body in the bawdiest sense of the phrase.
SALESMAN
Of course, you’re only selling
your dead body, mum . . . once you have no need of it anymore.
I like to tell folks that it’s
like having your family sell your house after you are gone . . . You
don’t need a house once you’ve passed on, now do you?
ELDERLY WOMAN
(Shaking her head)
Of course not.
SALESMAN
Then you don’t need no body
neither!
ELDERLY WOMAN
(Nodding)
You are such a clever young man!
(Flirtingly) If only I was a bit
younger!
SALESMAN
(Smiling broadly)
Thank you, mum! If I wasn’t
already engaged, I would be back to woo you regardless of the small
difference in our ages!
The salesman folds up the contract,
places it in his jacket pocket, and stands up.
He looks down upon the elderly woman
and bows slightly.
SALESMAN
Have a good life, mum!
JUMP CUT TO:
The salesman sits in a large brown
70s-vintage American sedan with numerous dents, on the street in
front of a small cottage, watching as the elderly woman exits and
walks down the lane, away from him. He pulls out his phone and dials.
SALESMAN
She’s walking to her card game
now.
JUMP CUT TO:
Two men sit in an ambulance. The man
in the passenger seat is speaking on his phone.
AMBULANCE passenger
Right! We’re on it.
(Hangs up phone and turns to
driver.)
Go!
JUMP CUT TO:
The elderly woman steps into an
intersection just as the walk light gives her the right of way.
ROAR of a big V8 and SQUEALING TIRES
as the brown sedan turns into the intersection, strikes the elderly
lady with a loud KLUNK, and, without a pause, accelerates down the
street and out of view.
The ambulance pulls up seconds
later, just as people come out of their houses to investigate. The
ambulance driver and passenger quickly pull a gurney out of the back
and run to the old woman. The driver kneels and touches her throat.
AMBULANCE DRIVER
(Loudly, so that people approaching
can hear)
Gor—this woman’s got no pulse!
What a bleeding tragedy!
AMBULANCE PASSENGER
(Also speaking to the growing crowd)
I’ll give her a shot of
adrenaline, and then we will take her to the hospital straightaway!
The ambulance passenger takes a
syringe out of a pocket and injects the contents into the woman’s
arm.
Then the two men lift the woman onto
the gurney, strap her in using ridiculously large straps, and a head
restraint, raise the gurney, extend the legs, wheel the woman to the
back of the ambulance, whisk the gurney inside, close the doors, and
briskly accelerate away as the crowd of onlookers natter to each
other.
IRIS FADE OUT:
IRIS FADE IN:
The hooded figure turns to face
Shevosky, and we see he is DR. IVAN NEVISKY in his prime, looking
more like a man in his twenties than the sixty-plus he actually is.
He has no wounds, so he looks more like a stereotypical vampire than
a zombie.
NEVISKY
You are surprised that humans are .
. . inhumane?
SHEVOSKY
No . . . Not at all. I am more
surprised when people treat each other decently.
But I didn’t expect things to
happen so quickly. It has not yet been two years since we stopped Dr.
Mentzer in Houston.
NEVISKY
(Tapping the newspaper headline.)
Clearly, we did not stop him. (Beat) If anything, we made him more
powerful.
Shevosky
When you bit him?
Nevisky
And passed to him the same
live-strain of the virus in me.
jump cut TO: PLUM ISLAND, 1976.
Shevosky and Mentzer look at a dead
body strapped to a table. Nevisky stabs the corpse with a syringe and
pushes the plunger. On the other side stands a soldier with a rifle
at the ready.
Another table, oriented 90 degrees
to the table holding the body, supports a camcorder recording the
experiment. Next to the camcorder is a television and a remote
control.
Nevisky finishes and steps back,
next to the television.
Nevisky
This new variant should give the
re-animates more speed.
Mentzer
It better. Masterson keeps reminding
me that our first demonstration was not promising from a military
perspective. Frankly, I agree with him.
Nevisky
I should expect at least a ten-fold
increase in energy . . .
Shevosky
Look out!
The reanimated body tears restraints
on far side and lunges. It grabs Nevisky’s arm and bites
ferociously.
Instinctively, Nevisky leans away,
his free hand coming to rest upon the remote control.
CLOSE ON: light emitting from end of
remote control.
The reanimated body lets go of
Nevisky’s arm and stands listlessly, eyes focusing on nothing.
JUMP CUT TO:
EXT—GRASSY SWALE NEXT TO
FREEWAY—NIGHT
Winds flatten the rain-slickened
grass. Out of a halo of light, Stephen Mentzer, in a tattered dark
suit, vaults over a freeway sidewall and slips downslope. He hits the
bottom, clattering into a rusty pipe about three feet long, regains
his footing, and stands in time to see a dark, hooded shape hurtle
over the sidewall and descend upon him with a scream.
Mentzer stoops to pick up the pipe,
but the dark figure—the NEVISKY zombie—is upon him in a
heartbeat. Nevisky grabs one of Mentzer’s arms and bites.
Mentzer screams and brings the pipe
up and over in a powerful arc that ends a sickening crunch upon
Nevisky’s head. Nevisky crumbles. Clutching his arm, Mentzer
stumbles up the opposite slope of the swale and into head-high
sawgrass.
JUMP CUT TO: now, galveston
Nevisky
He is like me now: a living zombie,
his rage held in check by this—or by the force of his own will.
Nevisky holds up the wrist with the
band on it, reaches over with his free hand, and presses on the band.
The green light goes out and a red light turns on.
Shevosky steps back.
focus on face of nevisky
Nevisky’s face changes, becoming
harsher and more animalistic, and his body seems suddenly more
energized. Even though he is still sitting, his body seems coiled and
ready to spring.
Nevisky
(Speaking with a slight croak, and
with pauses, and though in pain.)
I remain in control, my friend . . .
even without the signal . . . But I have three times the strength of
a normal man . . . far greater speed than an Olympic sprinter. I have
the capabilities we long sought for our soldiers.
Nevisky presses the band again. The
red light goes off and the green light comes back on. Nevisky’s
features revert back to the way they were earlier.
Shevosky
Perhaps Mentzer was unable to
control the virus. Perhaps he died.
Nevisky
Arjun’s report argues otherwise.
The rapid growth of this . . . zombie outsourcing . . . would not
have occurred without the guidance of Dr. Stephen Mentzer.
He has forever altered the world
economy.
Shevosky
If
we cannot stop it, perhaps we can at least
SHEVOSKY
(Sighing) Then we must act. . . I
pray we are not too late.
Shevosky pulls out his phone and
stares at it thoughtfully for several seconds.
I am calling your son.
FADE OUT
FADE IN TO:
INT—NEO HQ CONFERENCE ROOM—DAY
FOCUS ON:
A gray hand fills the screen. On the
wrist, we see a black plastic bracelet with a glowing green light.
Fingers twitch.
PULL BACK to show Vladimir Roskov,
the head of Russia Still Works. Roskov surveys his hands with visible
surprise. His head lifts, and we see more surprise.
PULL BACK to show a room full of new
zombies: all the heads of the zombie outsourcing companies from
various countries are now pale gray zombies with blue lips and dark
eyes. Each sports a black bracelet with a small green light. All have
dazed looks.
FOCUS ON:
Higgins studies his hands, which
look just as they did before. He pulls up his sleeves—no bracelet.
HIGGINS
(Looking up at Valerie)
Why . . .
The voice of STEPHEN MENTZER answers
the question before Higgins can complete it.
MENTZER (VO)
Change of plans, Daniel.
ANGLE ON DOOR
Mentzer walks through the door into
the conference room. With the exception of his pale gray, bordering
on white, skin tone, he looks much as he did decades earlier, when
starting his research into finding a virus to create invincible
soldiers.
HIGGINS
(Worried)
But . . . I thought I was to become
like the others.
MENTZER
(Breaths in slowly)
I needed you to keep this company
moving forward, to be the face of our enterprise.
HIGGINS
All of which I have striven to do .
. .
MENTZER
Unfortunately, you have been slow to
accept the need for the living virus.
So I have decided to move forward on
my own.
HIGGINS
Well, I . . .
It’s just that I see some . . .uh
. . . potential legal issues with the whole idea of injecting
healthy, living people with a virus that turns them into . . .
zombies. . .
Higgin’s eyes quickly sweep around
the room of zombies.
Nothing personal, of course.
MENTZER
Of course!
But don’t worry, Mr. Higgins. You
can still serve this company in a different way that I will explain
soon enough.
HIGGENS
(With a look of relief.)
Oh! Well then . . .
Mentzer
(Looking at the heads of his
zombiesourcing enterprise)
Welcome to your new bodies! You now
carry almost the same virus as do I, and this virus gives you
incredible new capabilities, which we will discuss soon.
First, some housekeeping issues . .
.
Roskov
What capabilities? And why is it
that we do not carry exactly the same virus as you?
Mentzer
(Smiling and turning to regard
Roskov.)
Excellent, Mr. Roskov! I was one of
you would press me on this point.
(Looking at all the heads of the
enterprise, in turn, as he speaks)
You have been given the original
live virus, which was modified by the introduction of an antiviral
agent. The antiviral gives you the capacity to remain in control when
you turn off your bracelets.
FOCUS ON:
The enterprise heads all examine
their bracelets, which display green lights.
Mentzer
You do not have all of the
enhancements that I have developed over the past two years. These
enhancements not only give me greater physical capabilities than
yours, they also reverse the aging process.
However, you will be glad to know
that I am a generous person. You can earn these enhancements through
your actions.
Roskov
What actions must we perform?
Mentzer
Another excellent question, Mr.
Roskov! You are winning bonus points already!
I will shortly sit with each of you
to hash out the details of how you can earn the enhancements.
But, first, let me get the
housekeeping out of the way: I am moving the headquarters of New Era
Outsourcing to the friendlier climate of Mexico City.
HIGGINS
Wonderful! I love warm places!
MENTZER
Good. You will come with us, in a
manner of speaking.
HIGGINS
(Worried)
Oh? How so?
Mentzer ignores Higgins and holds up
his black plastic bracelet; the small green light on top indicates
that the emitter inside is transmitting the EHF signal that calms
those infected with the virus.
MENTZER
(Looking at the others.)
A caution: when your bracelet is
turned off, you metabolism will begin running at full capacity. It is
easy to run out of fuel in that state, and then you are trouble.
Which brings me to lesson one:
always maintain your energy stores by eating frequently.
When I tell you, press both sides of
your bracelets by the green light for a one minute pause in the
calming signal.
HIGGINS
Perhaps I should leave first . . .
Higgins makes a move for the door,
but Mentzer grabs him by an arm.
MENTZER
(Smiling at Higgins)
This is how you will come with us.
Press your buttons! And eat!
FOCUS ON hands squeezing their black
bracelets.
FOCUS ON terrified eyes of Higgins.
FADE TO BLACK
We hear a SCREAM followed by WET
GURGLING noises, GROWLS, SMACKING, and SNAPPING.
FADE IN TO
EXT—cuidad Juarez—day
Woody and Sancho sit in adjacent
chairs outside a cantina. Each appears to be speaking on his phone,
facing opposite directions, but they are actually speaking to each
other.
WOODY
Hard to believe we are running out
of scumbags in Juarez.
SANCHO
True. Only a few remain.
My job is almost done: my family
will have had its revenge upon those filthy bastards!
Sancho spits on the ground.
WOODY
Yeah. Good for you, hombre. I mean
it. I am sure your family is looking down on you right now, mighty
proud of how you have avenged them.
But . . . you still want to make a
few pesos, no?
SANCHO
(Beat)
I could be interested if the price
is right. I have to make a living, and there are other families I can
avenge.
WOODY
I like your passion, hombre. You
have a real talent, and the gig is more than just a job for you.
(Beat) I hear you were studying to
be a doctor.
SANCHO
I was. . . Then those bastards held
my family hostage until I delivered drugs to them. . . They killed my
family anyway, and I barely escaped with my life.
JUMP CUT TO
INT.—EMPTY ROOM IN DUSTY HOUSE—DAY
Three men with guns surround a man,
woman, and girl who are bound and gagged. A fourth man with a gun
stands in front and SPEAKS IN SPANISH WITH ENGLISH SUBTITLES.
MAN #4
You got the money doctor?
PULL BACK
The back of Sancho’s head comes
into the scene. He nods and holds out a paper sack.
Man #4 takes the sack, looks inside,
and turns to the three men behind him.
MAN #4
Waste them!
Man #4 turns back to Sancho and
immediately begins firing his gun and laughing at the same time.
SWISH PAN TO FOLLOW SANCHO
Sancho runs to the only window in
the room and plunges through, a hail of bullets whining past him as
the bad men continue shooting and laughing.
JUMP CUT TO
EXT—cuidad Juarez cantina—day
SANCHO
Now, I use medicine to bring as much
pain as possible to their kind. The bad ones should die slowly.
JUMP CUT TO
EXT.—SANDY LOT WITH RUSTY METAL
SHED—DAY
FOCUS ON a blazing sun in clear blue
skies. It is midday, and the heat is oppressive.
We hear CRUNCHING of gravel as
somebody walks toward the shed. Closer, we see a large thermometer in
the shade of the small shed’s eaves that reads 112 degrees F.
A hand reaches out and pulls open
the door.
PULL IN
In the darkness are four seated
figures, tied together, their wrists and feet secured with safety
ties that have cut into the skin. The men’s feet are bare, and the
floor around them is littered with broken glass to keep them in a
cramped position. Cuts on their feet attest to their need to move in
spite of the danger.
Above the men, drip bags hand from
hooks in the low ceiling, and tubes run from the bags to each man.
The heads of the four men jerk up,
and we recognize them as the same men who murdered Sancho’s family.
The men try to speak, but their mouths have been sutured shut.
REVERSE ANGLE
Sancho SPEAKS IN SPANISH, WITH
ENGLISH SUBTITLES.
SANCHO
Good. You are not dead yet. I
suspect it will take another couple of days if long as I keep you
hydrated.
Sancho checks the bags hanging above
the men, all of which still contain liquid.
Sancho
But you must be bored, no? I brought
you some friends to help pass the time.
Sancho opens a plastic container and
upends it on the flooring, spilling out dozens of scorpions that
skitter into the dark recesses between the huddled men.
SANCHO
Now a little something to help you
stay awake. . . A powerful stimulant. I wouldn’t want you to miss a
second of your dying.
He pulls out a veterinary syringe
and injects a shot into the injection port above each man. Each man
jerks in pain. When finished, Sancho steps back and stands by the
door, the blazing sun creating a halo around his head.
SANCHO
Adios my friends. With any luck, I
will keep you alive for another three to four days before you
graduate to hell.
EXT—cuidad Juarez cantina—day
Woody nods slowly.
WOODY
I hear tell of many worthless drug
lords in Mexico City who would make fine workers. . . You could even
make examples of a few if you want. Man’s got to have a hobby to
keep from burning out.
SANCHO
Yes. In such a proud city there is
much scum. Perhaps too much for me to handle personally: I do not
have many personal contacts there, and it takes time to learn who can
get close to those who deserve to die.
WOODY
Did I mention that I’m planning on
joining you for this gig? I’ll be your personal assistant. . . I
know a few people.
Sancho allows himself a brief moment
of eye contact with Woody.
SANCHO
I am honored, but we need more than
the two of us. Mexico City is a large place.
It would also be good to find
somebody else with medical training. I sometimes use drugs to disable
our targets or extend their pain. A knowledge of medicine helps.
WOODY
Just so happens I know a couple of
veterinarians who have experience with zombies. I’ll give them a
call.
Sancho nods.
SANCHO
I like veterinarians. They use big
needles.
I will need some money up front for
travel, accommodations, and to begin gathering information.
Woody takes a roll of bills from his
pocket, peels off several, and slides them under an empty bottle—as
though he were leaving a tip. He stands and walks away, never looking
at Sancho, still talking on his phone.
WOODY
If you need more, you got my number.
See you in Mexico City, amigo.
Woody walks away as Sancho continues
to sit, mutely holding his phone to his ear, hearing the clarion call
of Zapata to toss the yoke of servitude from good and decent people
and avenge the death of his parents and sister.
FADE OUT
A SONG PLAYS: ELECTRIC HEAD PART 2,
FROM WHITE ZOMBIE’S SUPERSEXY ALBUM
FADE IN TO
EXT—GRAVEL ROAD SOMEWHERE IN
MEXICO—DAY
EXTREME LONG SHOT
Two distant vehicles trail dust
behind them as they move along a dirt road through the desert.
In the foreground, the barrel of an
AK-47 comes into view. Voices of bandits speak in SPANISH WITH
ENGLISH SUBTITLES. As the camera pulls back, we see three men, one of
whom is looking through binoculars.
BANDIT 1 (OS)
Gringos?
BANDIT 2 (OS)
Yes. The truck is from Texas. Two
passengers. The other vehicle has tinted windows.
BANDIT 3 (OS)
How do we do this?
BANDIT 1 (OS)
We step out from behind these rocks
when they get closer.
BANDIT 3 (OS)
What if they don’t stop?
BANDIT 1 (OS)
Shoot the tires. When they stop, we
take them hostage. And then we kill them and take their vehicles.
BANDIT 3 (OS)
What if they are armed?
BANDIT 1 (OS)
With what? At best they probably
have hunting rifles or shotguns? Maybe handguns. They aren’t
military or police. We have the same as they do, and we outnumber
them.
Don’t worry. I have done this
before. I know what I am doing.
As the vehicles near, we can see
that the lead vehicle is a black four-wheel drive pickup. The second
vehicle is a black Humvee towing a black utility trailer.
Bandit 3
You sure they aren’t military?
That Humvee looks like military . . . or police.
Bandit 1
This is our territory! Neither
military or police would dare enter.
Bandit 2
They could still have guns, and
maybe there of more of them than of us.
Bandit 1
That is why we placed Reynaldo
behind those other rocks!
Bandit 1 points at a cluster of
boulders closer to the approaching vehicles.
Bandit 1
He and his grenade launcher will
take care of whoever tries to come out of that Humvee.
Bandit 2
I hope you are right.
By now, the lead truck is close
enough to see two figures in the cab. It and the Humvee rush by the
boulders where Reynaldo is positioned.
Close on Texas license plates that
read “ZMBYDOCS” and a massive array of running lights on the lead
truck.
BANDIT 1 (OS)
Okay! Now!
The bandits move into the road in
the path of the truck and level their rifles. In their waistbands,
each man also has a handgun ready to draw.
The truck slows and stops about 100
meters out.
BANDIT 3
Kinda far away.
BANDIT 1
They’re scared. Come on, we’ll
walk up to them.
BANDIT 2
Fucking gringos! Probably pissing
their pants right now.
The doors of the truck open.
CLOSE ON
Cowboy boots emerging from both
sides of truck.
PAN UP
We see boots, jeans, massive belt
buckles, Brushpopper shirts.
PAN UP
We see men with Asian features
(BILLY and BOBBY NGUYEN—the “Win” brothers.) Billy is on the
driver’s side, Bobby the passenger side. Each wears a maroon cap
with the ATM logo of Texas A&M University. They stand so that the
truck doors cover one hand.
The bandits continue walking.
The Nguyen men brothers pull
Bushmaster ACRs out from behind the doors and fire on automatic,
spraying the bandits, who fall without getting off a shot.
FOCUS ON BOULDERS WHERE REYNALDO
WAITS.
Reynaldo pops up and lifts his
grenade launcher.
FOCUS ON HUMVEE
A sliding door atop the Humvee snaps
open and out pops a minigun that immediately begins firing. Reynaldo
disappears in a haze of red.
FOCUS ON NGUYEN BROTHERS
The brothers get back into their
truck and drive forward to where the would-be bandits have fallen
while the Humvee slowly advances, the minigun rotating here and there
to pick out possible targets.
The Nguyen brothers get out of their
truck and inspect, guns at the ready, tossing the bandits’ guns
aside. Satisfied, they lean their rifles against the truck. Bobby
walks to the back of the truck while Billy goes to the first bandit,
grabs him by the legs, and starts dragging him to Bobby.
In the b.g., Bobby lifts up a tarp
covering the bed and flips it open; he then walks over and grabs the
hands of the bandit Billy is dragging.
When they get the body parallel with
the truck bed, they secure the hands and feet with safety ties, then
hoist it up and over, into the bed.
PAN UP
The bed of the truck already
contains a half-dozen dead bandits with ties on their wrists and
ankles. The new bandit lands on top.
Bobby pulls the tarp back in place
and secures it with bungee cords while Billy climbs back into the
driver’s seat. When he is finished, Bobby climbs into the passenger
seat and turns to his brother. He speaks with a thick Vietnamese
accent.
BILLY
(Looking at the back of the truck)
Nice haul, bro. We already collect
enough zombie meat pay for gas and time.
BOBBY
American way: free enterprise!
But we still submit travel expenses
to Woody!
BILLY
Fucking-A! Agreement is agreement,
and business is business, even in Mexico!
Billy jams the truck into gear and
guns the motor, spraying gravel as the Nguyen brothers continue along
their way. The Humvee follows, the minigun slowly lowering back
inside.
A SONG PLAYS: LENINGRAD’S
“manager”
FADE OUT
FADE IN TO:
INT—MOSCOW WAREHOUSE—night
FOCUS ON THE TABLE WE SAW EARLIER
In the b.g., Lev, Yakov, and Grisha
lift weights in their dingy warehouse loft.
PAN CAMERA AROUND MEN and ROOM
We see that the men must do little
other than stay in this loft. In another corner are mattresses and
sleeping bags, in a third are racks of clothes, and in the last are
workbenches upon which are piled many weapons, mostly assault rifles,
but also a smattering of handguns, shotguns, and miniguns, the latter
looking like small Gatling guns.
One of the phones on the table we
saw earlier rings. Lev gets up and walks over, sweat dripping and
steam rising from his torso and closely cropped head.
Music fades
Lev
(Speaks in Russian with English
subtitles. Slightly annoyed.)
“Da?”
Lev listens for a bit, then places a
thumb over the microphone and turns to the others.
Lev
Is Vladimir.
GRISHA
Tell him kiss my ass.
yakov
Ditto.
Lev flips off his two friends and
continues listening to the phone, occasionally saying “Da.” Then
he hears something that catches his attention.
Lev
Mexico City?
In the b.g., Grisha and Yakov drop
their weights and trot over. Lev places the phone on the table and
turns on the speakerphone feature. We hear the voice of Vladimir
Rostov. The voice is slow, somewhat slurred, and there are frequent
pauses.
ROSTOV
International operations are . . .
moving . . . from London to Mexico . . . City. I need you . . .
There is a long pause.
GRISHA
(Whispering to Yakov but loud enough
for Lev to hear)
Is love, I think.
Lev flips off Grisha.
ROSTOV
. . . to meet me there. Bring Yakov
and . . . . . . Grisha.
YAKOV
(Whispering to Grisha.)
He almost forget you. You not kiss
his ass enough?
Grisha points at his crotch.
GRISHA
(Whispering loudly)
He not forget this!
ROSTOV
Book rooms at . . .
Grisha
(Whispering)
What wrong with that guy? He out of
breath? He doing one of his prostitutes while talking on phone?
YAKOV
(Whispering)
No. Not out of breath. Vladimir
sound sick.
Lev, annoyed by the background
chatter, snatches up the phone and turns off the speaker. He listens
for a little longer, says “Da,” and hangs up.
GRISHA
So, what up? We go to Mexico City
and get away from our luxurious bachelor lifestyle for rest of
winter?
Lev glares at his friend for a
second and is about to respond when his phone rings again. He looks
at the display and visibly starts.
Lev
Shevosky!
GRISHA
Tell her we go to Mexico! She can
join if wear little-bitty bikini.
Lev slowly shakes his head.
LEV
Nyet. Her grandpa: Dr. Shevosky.
Grisha and Yakov look at each other
in astonishment. Lev holds the phone up to his ear.
Lev
Hello?
FADE OUT
A SONG PLAYS: SOMETHING MEXICAN
FADE IN TO:
establishing shot: The mexico city
skyline, day
SUPER: MEXICO CITY. OCTOBER 31—THE
DAY BEFORE THE CELEBRATION OF LOS DIAS DEL MUERTE—THE DAY OF THE
DEAD.
zoom in to the Metropolitan
Cathedral, PASSING THROUGH CROWDS wearing skull makeup and masks and
streets decorated with skull-themed artwork. people are playful,
laughing, dancing, and enjoying foods such as sugar skulls and pan de
muerto.
Continue pulling through the crowd
until we see a group of men dressed in chinos and guyabura shirts:
stephen mentzer, valerie and the country heads of NEW ERA
OUTSOURCING, LTD. Mentzer carries a wooden box like the box used in
london, except the box is wrapped by red ribbon and sports a red bow.
because of the celebration, nobody pays any attention to this pale
looking group.
Follow them to the Palacio Nacional,
where they disappear through the doors, next to a sign that says
“Secretaría de Hacienda y Crédito Público.”
super: Secretariat of finance and
public credt
CUT TO: int—conference room—day
A young woman (MARIA in a business
suit greets Dr. Mentzer.
YOUNG WOMAN
Dr. Mentzer?
Mentzer nods.
Maria
So nice to meet you! (Looking around
at the group) And you are all so festive looking!
If you and your people will have a
seat, I’ll let the Secretary know you are here.
Mentzer nods again, and his group of
living zombies take seats while the young woman opens an adjoining
door. Mentzer remains standing.
Maria
Mr. Secretary? Dr. Mentzer is here.
Maria moves aside as a
forty-something man in a business suit steps briskly out and extends
his hand to Mentzer. Maria follows.
Secretary of Finance
Dr. Mentzer, so nice to finally meet
you!
The Secretary gestures.
Secretary of Finance
And may I say that I absolutely love
how you came prepared for Los Dias Del Muerte!
Please! Have a seat and make
yourself comfortable. I so look forward to hearing more about your
plan to help us make Mexico a world leader in manufacturing! We have
heard so many good things about your operations up north!
We remain a bit fuzzy on the details
of the service your company provides, but . . . I am sure all will
become apparent in due time.
Mentzer
All will become apparent in due
time.
May I first present you and your
lovely assistant, Maria, with a small token of our appreciation?
Secretary of Finance
Dr. Mentzer, we would be honored.
Wouldn’t we Maria?
Maria
Most certainly!
Mentzer
Turning to receive two black
bracelets from Valerie.
FOCUS ON BRACELETS, WHICH HAVE
‘MEXICO STILL WORKS’ PRINTED ON THEM IN GREEN, RED, AND WHITE
LETTERS.
Mentzer opens one bracelet and looks
at the Secretary
Mentzer
May I?
The Secretary’s face displays a
momentary hesitation, perhaps because the bracelets are so obviously
cheap, but then he smiles broadly.
Secretary of Finance
Of course!
Mentzer attaches the bracelet on the
Secretary’s wrist, and then places the other bracelet on Maria.
As Mentzer looks up, we see that the
others in his group have arranged themselves behind both the
secretary and Maria. The Secretary and Maria also notice that they
are surrounded and show signs of discomfort.
Secretary of Finance
(Holding up wrist with bracelet) It
is quite nice, and I like the little green light . . . What, exactly,
does it do?
Mentzer
Think of it as something to calm
you, a sedative.
The Secretary chuckles
uncomfortably.
Secretary of Finance
A sedative?
Mentzer
Yes.
Secretary of Finance
But . . . what on earth for? Why
would I need . . .
Whatever else the Secretary meant to
say is cut off as two men grab and hold him while another claps a
hand over his mouth and a fourth jabs a syringe into the Secretary’s
arm. Other men do the same to Maria. The eyes of the Secretary and
Maria grow large in fright, and then they close and both convulse for
several seconds. When the convulsions stop, the men guide them chairs
and then take their own seats. Dr. Mentzer takes a seat opposite the
Secretary and waits.
Slowly, the Secretary opens his
eyes. Already, his skin is becoming gray.
Mentzer
(Opening a jar of brown body makeup
and applying it to the secretary’s exposed skin to restore his
natural coloration.)
Yes. I think that will do nicely.
Mentzer hands the jar to Valerie,
who continues applying it to the secretary, while Mentzer places the
gift-wrapped wooden box on the table.
Now, Mr. Secretary . . . let us talk
about your meeting with the cabinet this afternoon, during which you
will introduce me to your president, and I will give him and the rest
of the cabinet a gift that will make all of you quite wealthy.
FADE OUT
A SONG PLAYS: SOMETHING MEXICAN
FADE IN TO
In the low-rent part of the city,
Woody and Sancho sit at a table in front of a bar, drinking beer.
Woody is anxiously checking his phone for messages.
Woody
Damn those Vietcong a-holes! Why
couldn’t they fly like everybody else?
Sancho
(Shrugging) If they carry as much
hardware as you describe, it could be a good thing for us. Automatic
weapons are hard to come by unless you are in the cartel, and their
medical equipment will be invaluable.
Woody
Yeah. Probably so--even if their
stuff is old. Last time I saw them, they had AK-47s their grandpappy
used back in the 70s. Old stuff, and none too accurate for anything
but close-up action, but it worked well enough against the zombies in
Houston.
Woody checks his phone again—to no
avail.
(Beat) I don’t know whose palms
they grease to get their stuff across the border, but I just wish . .
.
Woody looks down as his phone makes
a clanking noise, indicating a new message has been received.
FOCUS ON PHONE, which shows a
message icon and the name L. Nevisky.
Wood opens the message and reads,
speaking out loud as he reads.
Woody
Fuck me! The Russians are here! They
are at the Metropolitan Cathedral and want to meet.
Sancho
(Suspiciously) You said they had
their own territory. I hope they are not trying to cut into ours.
Woody briefly considers the thought
that his Russian friends might be up to no good but dismisses the
idea with a wave and types a response.
Woody
Nah! Those guys are okay. I trust
them. It’s just . . .
SANCHO
What?
Woody
(Shrugs) I wonder what would bring
them here?
Both men watch as a three youths
dressed up as zombies walk by, and then they exchange a glance before
hurriedly getting up and loping off.
FADE OUT
A SONG PLAYS: SOMETHING MEXICAN
FADE IN TO
ext. – Industrial area outside
Mexico City – Day
Three large, black SUVs drive past
warehouses along an avenue that terminates at a massive hangar. They
reach the closed end of the hangar and proceed around it, to the
opposite doors, which are open. Inside, three blimps are tethered to
the floor.
The SUVs stop, and the heads of New
Era Outsourcing emerge. Neither Dr. Mentzer nor Valerie are present.
Roskov walks to the blimp closest to
the door and turns to face the others.
Roskov
I will command this craft!
british REPRESENTATIVE
Here! Who put you in charge?
Roskov pulls a pistol from his
waistband and, without a word, shoots the British Representative in
the head.
Roskov
Any other stupid questions?
Nobody answers. Roskov points to the
German, Italian, and Ukrainian representatives.
Roskobv
You three ride with me!
(Looking around at the rest)
Apparently, nobody else thought to
bring a weapon? Okay, since there are no objections, let's get these
craft ready. When we get the word from Mentzer, we will launch!
FADE OUT
FADE IN TO
INT. – mexican cabinet meeting –
Day
The Finance Secretary is standing,
speaking slowly—so slowly that the other cabinet members are
looking to each other, wondering what is wrong with their colleague.
Secretary of Finance
My
guest . . . Dr, Mentzer . . . has a plan to
FADE IN TO
ext. – Metropolitan Cathedral –
Day
Fade to Black
