Honeybee

are clenched shut -- no sound escapes them. When it passes, Bob peeks out the bathroom door. BOB’S POV Bea still sleeps. BACK TO SCENE Bob heaves a deep breath and ducks back into the bathroom. He spreads toothpaste on his toothbrush, flips a tiny, one- minute hourglass, and commences brushing. 5. 11 INT. JENSEN HOME - BATHROOM - MINUTES LATER 11 Bob stands before the mirror. His undershirt is tucked neatly into the waist of his pants. He peers into the glass as he carefully straightens his belt. Once his belt has achieved optimal position, he picks up a comb. He leans forward to get a better vantage and fixes his hair, slicing his part with extreme precision. 12 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM 12 PSHHH! A STEAMING IRON glides over a men’s cotton dress shirt. Bob guides the iron over the shirt collar with practiced strokes. Finished, he sets the iron aside, swipes the shirt from the board, and gives it a good, snapping shake. Perfection. He slides the shirt on; buttons up the front; carefully secures the cuffs; fixes his lapels and fastens them down. Bea stirs in her sleep. Bob glances at her, a twinkling smile on his lips. He smooths his shirt one last time -- an unnecessary precaution -- and leaves the room. 13 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN 13 Like a whale expelling water from its blowhole, the COFFEE POT SPOUTS out its last. SHUNK! Two halves of an ENGLISH

JENSEN HOME - DINING ROOM 24 Pale sunlight floats through the window, the kind of light that hints at coming rain. The customary breakfast assemblage awaits. Bob has the silverware tray emptied onto the table. He sorts, placing the pieces back into the tray straight and neat. Bea watches him, an amused expression on her face, but she doesn’t comment on it. She munches her muffin; Bob sorts silverware. Finally: BEA Don’t you want something to eat? 12. BOB No, dear, I’m not hungry. BEA That’s what you said yesterday morning. Are you sure you’re alright? How did your doctor appointment go? Bob shrugs. BOB It went fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Those things are always a waste of time. BEA Bob.... BOB (forcing a smile) I’m as healthy as an ox and as strong as a bear. Bea smiles over the rim of her coffee cup. BEA That’s not how the saying goes. BOB Well, maybe it’s a new saying. He smiles for real now. His eyes meet Bea’s and they both give a small laugh. 25 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN - LATER 25 The barest trickling of RAIN PATTERS against the window. Bea washes dishes. She preserves her mug of coffee, topping it off as she dries a knife. 26 INT. JENSEN HOME - DINING ROOM - LATER 26 A wash rag swipes across the table. Bea puts down a table runner and a decorative centerpiece. 13. 27 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN - LATER 27

Yes. SHANE You’re quitting tomorrow. ANA Shane.... SHANE Shut the hell up! I said you’re quitting, so do it! Notices Corey watching. SHANE (CONT’D) What’re you staring at? Get the hell outta here! Turns to Ana, not even waiting to see if his mandate is followed. SHANE (CONT’D) Who is that guy? You got a guy on the side, huh, you little slut? Ana opens her mouth to speak, but Shane opens the passenger door. SHANE (CONT’D) Get in the car. Ana obeys, but doesn’t move fast enough to satisfy him. 62. SHANE (CONT’D) Get in the goddamned car! Shoves her in and slams the door. As he moves toward his own seat, Shane catches sight of Corey again. SHANE (CONT’D) What did I just say? Quickly, Corey retreats, throwing doubtful glances over his shoulder. 78 INT. TSS OFFICE - BREAKROOM - MORNING 78 Smiling and refreshed, Bea enters and plants herself beside Ana. The latter sits slumped and subdued in her seat. She wears massive sunglasses and more black than usual. A queue forms in front of the time clock. Bea and Ana join it. Corey and Adrian fall in behind. Adrian appears to be in an extraordinarily sour mood. ADRIAN Seriously, McCahl? Sunglasses inside? What are you, sixteen? Yanks the glasses off Ana’s face before Ana can stop her.... There, on Ana’s face, is a massive shiner, plum-colored and seeping. Ana stares defiantly at Adrian from her good eye. Adrian is taken aback. Bea looks astonished.

JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN - NEXT MORNING 93 The remnants of breakfast are swiped into the sink. The GRATING GRIND of a GARBAGE DISPOSAL. A SPLASH of tap WATER running into the sink. Steam rises from the basin. Dishes are piled in. Soap is squirted over them. Bea stands motionless at the sink for a beat... then.... With a sigh, she walks away. 70. 94 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS 94 The bright morning rays are abruptly cut off as Bea yanks the curtains closed. She crawls back into bed and nestles into the soft plush of comforters and quilts. 95 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - SEVERAL DAYS LATER 95 Light shines lackluster around the edges of the curtains. A stuffy atmosphere pervades. On the floor are piles of laundry. The bed is well overdue to be made. Blankets are strewn every which way; the sheets are anything but crisp and clean. Amidst it all lies Bea, snuggled down among the bedding. She’s not asleep, not really, but her eyes are closed. Her hair looks as though it hasn’t been washed in days. All at once she sits up, stretching stiffly. With a yawn, she picks her robe up off the floor and tosses it about her shoulders. 96 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN 96 The entire place screams of unkempt neglect. Bea POPS the LID off a cannister, checking for coffee grounds. There aren’t any. With a careless half-shrug, she places the empty cannister

Without warning, Maude leaps from the couch and flies at the two police officers, manically brandishing the letter knife. Beatrice cringes down into the sofa. The knife blade glints in the sunlight. PFOUGH! FLASH TO WHITE: 6 EXT. WOODED FIELD - LATE 1930s 6 The swarm of law enforcement officials is suffocating. The photographer seems to be doing his job to excess. PFOUGH! CLINKLE. The dead body lies very still among the crowd.... PFOUGH! CLINKLE. Maude’s eyes flick to the photographer. PFOUGH! CLINKLE. With a piercing shriek, Maude SPRINGS UP. She rushes forward, growing closer -- Closer -- CLOSER -- 7 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - NIGHT (PRESENT DAY) 7 With a sharp gasp, BEATRICE (BEA) JENSEN, late 60s, bursts awake. She sits, her breath heaving for several moments as she regains composure. Beside her, her husband BOB JENSEN, early 70s, rustles awake. He reaches over, his eyes still half-closed, and feels around until he finds Bea’s leg. BOB You awake? BEA ... Yeah. Bob opens his eyes. Concern colors his features as he looks at Bea. 3. BOB Bad dream? Bea takes a calming breath. BEA Yes. BOB About your mother again? BEA Mm-hm. Bob squints his eyes shut and feels his way to Bea’s waist. He tugs at her gently, pulling her down and close to him. Bea obeys readily, settling in beside her husband. BOB You know what I have to say about that, Bea. No answer. Bob circles an arm around Bea’s shoulder. BOB (CONT’D)

HONEYBEE Written by Amanda Cartwright Based on "The List," short story by Charlie Mitchell 1st draft 5/21/16 2nd draft 12/7/16 3rd draft 5/1/17 FADE IN: 1 DREAM SEQUENCE: BLACK 1 PFOUGH! CLINKLE. The sound of an OLD CAMERA. PFOUGH! FLASH TO WHITE: 2 EXT. WOODED FIELD - LATE 1930s 2 MAUDE COLEMAN, mid-30s, lies sprawled on the ground. Her skin is cast with a ghastly pallor; her lips are blue. Spread wildly is her hair in lank, grimy tendrils. She wears a worn gray asylum dress. It’s spattered with blood. She’s dead. 3 INT. COLEMAN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY (LATE 1930s) 3 The room is gray and dingy, a shadow of its former self. It’s as depressed as the era gone by. Wallpaper peels away, revealing the rotting wooden infrastructure underneath. Maude Coleman sits on a once-splendorous sofa, her back straight and rigid. She and her daughter, YOUNG BEATRICE, 10, are clad in shoddy and faded garments. She stares dead ahead. Beatrice looks shyly up at two POLICE OFFICERS. A small coffee table sits in front of the couch. It’s littered with torn-open envelopes and bills of every kind. In her hand, Maude holds a letter knife. It glints in the light... PFOUGH! FLASH TO WHITE: 4 EXT. WOODED FIELD - LATE 1930s 4 Officers and police detectives surround Maude’s body. A photographer captures the scene. 2. 5 INT. COLEMAN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY (LATE 1930s) 5

You need to see someone about it. BEA Bob... BOB Insurance will pay for it, Bea. BEA It’s not that. BOB Then what is it? BEA You know what. BOB Refresh my memory. Bea sighs and nestles closer to her husband. BEA Can we talk about it in the morning? She sighs another sleepy sigh and falls quiet. Bob gives a soft chuckle. 4. BOB Okay, Honeybee. Alright. Plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. 8 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - MORNING 8 The pale breath of new morning light sighs through the curtained window. It’s a cozy place with wooden furnishings. A hand sewn quilt is spread over the bed. Bob’s eyes float open. He stares at the ceiling for the space of two breaths, then glances over at Bea’s sleeping form. He tugs the blanket further up on her shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. Another breath. He rolls out of bed. 9 INT. JENSEN HOME - BATHROOM 9 The SHOWER HEAD bursts to life with a SOFT WHISTLING sound. Bob steps in, dousing his head thoroughly, methodically. A cloak of steam rises around him. 10 INT. JENSEN HOME - BATHROOM - A SHORT TIME LATER 10 SWIP! Bob wipes the fogged mirror clear with a towel. He mops in broad strokes, making sure to reach every corner and crevice. A sudden flash of pain in his midsection stops him cold. He presses his arm to his torso and grips the counter. His lips

MUFFIN POP merrily out of the toaster. Bob pulls the muffins out; carefully butters each half; places them on a waiting plate; pours a mug of coffee. He slides in three teaspoons of sugar, precisely measured. After every spoon scoop from the sugar pot, he levels the top. Then he tilts the contents into the mug and stirs. He does this three times. 14 INT. JENSEN HOME - DINING ROOM 14 Bright sunshine pours through the windows. 6. The muffins and coffee are placed on the table. Beside the plate is a newspaper crossword puzzle and a pencil. Bob takes a seat across from this place setting. Bea enters, bleary-eyed with sleep and wrapped in a huge plush robe. She shuffles to her seat, plops into it, and gives a weary blink. After a short pause, she picks up the coffee mug, takes a sip, and closes her eyes in delight. BEA Mm. Opening her eyes: BEA (CONT’D) This is really good. BOB (shrugging) I make it the same way every time. BEA I know you do. Eats and works her puzzle. Meanwhile, Bob sits idly, looking vaguely about the room. Bea eyes him up. BEA (CONT’D) Aren’t you hungry? BOB Not particularly. BEA Are you sure? I can make you something. It’s no trouble. BOB No, no, Bea. I’m all right. I’m not very hungry. BEA I can make eggs -- BOB It’s okay, Honeybee. I’m really not hungry. BEA Are you feeling okay? 7. BOB No...

I think I have a kidney stone. BEA (nurturing) Oh, I’m sorry. Let me know if you need anything. I can run to the store today and get some stronger pain killers if you’d like. BOB Thank you, Bea. I think I’ll be fine. With a dubious look on her face, Bea resumes breakfasting. She sends occasional concerned looks at her husband. Her eyes flit to the stove clock and she gives a start. BEA Goodness! Look at the time. You’ll be late for work. BOB I’m not going in right away this morning. I have a doctor’s appointment. BEA Is there anything wrong? BOB No, no, just a regular check-up. Nothing to worry you about, Bea. Glances at his wrist watch. BOB (CONT’D) But you’re right. I should be going. He rises from his chair, walks to Bea, and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. BOB (CONT’D) See you tonight, Honeybee. Bea takes a sip of coffee and waves as Bob leaves. 8. 15 INT. SUPERMARKET - HEALTH AND BEAUTY 15 A vast array of bottled pills confronts Bea. She stands in the painkiller section, carefully considering her many choices. She reaches out, grabs one bottle, reads the label. ANA McCAHL, a young woman in her mid 20s, passes by. She’s a poster child for Gothic steampunk: skin-tight leather PANTS. They SQUEAK and CLINK when Ana walks. Massive platform military boots, black. Black waist trainer over a tight long- sleeved shirt -- black, of course.

Thick black choker. Heavy, deep red lipstick. Sunglasses with stitched leather side guards. Ana stops in the painkiller section. Bea gawks. The two women stand fairly close. Ana takes no notice of Bea. Bea tries, and fails, to ignore Ana. After a quick moment of perusing, Ana slides her sunglasses up and peers more closely at one of the bottles. Bea glances in Ana’s direction and notices: Thick, bold black eyeliner. Generously applied mascara. Heavy dark eyeshadow. All meant, and failing, to disguise a shining, purple black eye. Bea gasps in spite of herself. Ana gives a start and her deep brown eyes flick to Bea. She flips her sunglasses down, grabs the nearest bottle, and walks briskly away. 16 INT. SUPERMARKET - PRODUCE 16 Piles of pomegranates glitter like rubies under the fluorescent lights. Bea removes a one from the pyramid, hefts it thoughtfully in her hand, then puts it back. She picks a different one and repeats the process. This time, she keeps it, putting it gently into her shopping cart. She moves on. Behind her in the vegetable coolers, the sprinklers spurt to life. In the reflection of the chrome plating, a faint, shadowy figure can be discerned. 9. 17 INT. JENSEN HOME - DINING ROOM - EVENING 17 The table is laid with a good, light meal: steamed vegetables, a couple pieces of grilled chicken, and some pomegranate slices. BEA Bob! Time for supper! She takes a seat. Moments later, Bob enters and sits across

from her. Bea reaches across, takes Bob’s hands, and they both bow their heads. BEA (CONT’D) Bless us, O Lord, for these thy gifts which we have received from thy bounty through Christ, our Lord, Amen. They eat. Bea jumps from one food to the next. Bob fills his plate in such a way that no foods touch. He carefully cuts his chicken into equal-sized pieces. BOB What would you say about getting an RV? Bea stops and stares at her husband. BEA An RV? What for? BOB You know I’ve always wanted one. And I’m getting old. If I want one, now is the time. BEA Where would we go? BOB Anywhere we wanted. That’s the beauty of an RV. Bea peers at Bob. BEA Don’t you have to work? BOB I’m far past retirement age, Bea. Beat. 10. BEA What brought this on? BOB Nothing brought it on. I’ve just been thinking about it lately. (semi-playfully) Besides, I gotta do something to get you to stop having those dreams. BEA Oh, that’s enough out of you now. Her tone is good-natured, but she’s not smiling. 18 DREAM SEQUENCE: BLACK 18 PFOUGH! CLINKLE. The sound of an OLD CAMERA. PFOUGH! FLASH TO WHITE: 19 EXT. WOODED FIELD - LATE 1930S 19 Maude lies dead on the ground. The empty, glassy look in her eyes. 20 INT. COLEMAN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY (LATE 1930S) 20 Trembling violently, Maude clenches the letter knife in her hand.

She looks straight at the officers, her eyes wild, as she starts to draw the knife across her throat -- An officer dives at her and wrenches the knife from her hand. Young Beatrice shrinks back on the sofa, whimpering. 21 EXT. MOUNTAIN ROADWAY - NIGHT (LATE 1930s) 21 A car races along, its ENGINE ROARING into the darkness. The man inside has the radio cranked. The road winds, following the mountain’s edge. A torrential downpour pounds the earth, churning the soil around the road to a thick slop. 11. The road curves. The man follows. He corners too sharply; one of his tires gets caught in the muck. He’s JERKED FROM THE ROAD. The car slips and careens wildly in the mud. He can’t stop. The car fishtails to the edge of the cliff and plunges down.... DOWN.... DOWN.... 22 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - NIGHT (PRESENT DAY) 22 Bea’s eyes flash open and she heaves a great gasp of air. She breaths heavily for a few moments, calming herself, then glances around at Bob. He’s sound asleep, sprawled across the bed. Sleep is the only time when Bob is truly disordered. After a few moments more, Bea’s eyes flutter closed.... 23 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - MORNING 23 The GURGLING of the COFFEE MAKER beckons Bea to rise. She yawns and fumbles for her slippers in her groggy state. At last she finds them, wraps her robe around her, and shuffles from the room. 24 INT.

Bea leans against the counter, a land line phone tucked under her ear. Her arm is stalled in the midst of wiping down the counter. BEA No, Rita, I couldn’t make it to church last Sunday. Bob wasn’t feeling too well. (quick beat) Stomach cramps and that sort of thing. How was the guest pastor? It’s not everyday we get a deacon in our little church. (beat) The Lazarus story? Oh, I wish I could have been there. I always enjoy that. 28 INT. JENSEN HOME - LIVING ROOM - LATER 28 The VACUUM ROARS as Bea propels the cleaner head across the floor. She guides the vacuum with an expert hand, swinging it swiftly under tables and swirling it around corners. When she reaches the sofa, she pulls the cushions off and suctions under them with the crevice cleaner. She flings the cushions back into place and moves on, humming to herself. Outside, a mizzling rain comes steadily down. Faintly reflected in the glass is the ephemeral figure of a drenched woman. Blink once, she’s there. Blink twice.... She’s vanished. An instant later, Bea turns her head and looks in the place that was occupied by the figure. She doesn’t react, only keeps humming to herself. 29 INT. JENSEN HOME - DINING ROOM - LATER 29 Bea sits at the table, eating a sandwich. A half-full glass of water sits before her. She carefully avoids rumpling the table runner. 30 INT. JENSEN HOME - LIVING ROOM - LATER 30

Mountains of freshly-dried laundry are piled on the floor. Bea sits in the sofa, folding clothes and watching The Aadams Family. 14. 31 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN - LATE AFTERNOON 31 A bristled BRUSH SWISHES with regularity. Bea crouches on her hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor. A bucket and a sodden rag sit nearby. The front door opens. BOB (O.S.) Hello, Honeybee! A beat, and Bob enters with a bouquet of roses, his head and shoulders damp from the rain outside. BOB (CONT’D) Lands, it’s raining buckets out there. BEA I know it. I’ve been stuck inside all day. It’s so gloomy -- very Wednesday weather. Bob cracks a quizzical grin. BOB Wednesday weather? It’s not Wednesday. BEA Wednesday always seemed like such a gloomy day of the week. It’s stuck in the middle. People are in a rush to get there, and when they do, all they want is move on. BOB Wednesday weather. (beat) I never heard you say that before. BEA (playfully) Robert Jensen, just because we’ve been married fifty years, that doesn’t mean you know everything there is to know about me. BOB Well, I hope that by now I know most of it. Those dreams, for instance. 15. BEA Bob.... BOB Alright, alright. I won’t push it. I know better than that. He lands a pecking kiss on her cheek. BOB (CONT’D) Just think about it, Bea. Bea frowns and puts her fists on her hips. Bob chuckles at her posture. BEA

You’re in a good mood tonight. BOB Well I ought to be. Plops the bouquet on the counter and opens his arms wide. BOB (CONT’D) I quit. He grins and lets his arms fall to his sides. Bea stares in open astonishment. BEA You did what? BOB Technically, I resigned. I bought an RV -- it’s right outside there, Bea! Look, look, look! Ushers her rapidly to the window and pulls the curtain aside. BEA’S POV A massive RV engulfs the driveway. BACK TO SCENE Bea steps back, her mouth open and gaping. BEA Robert Jensen.... Well, I never! 16. BOB Think of all the things we can do and see in that rig. As soon as it’s ready, we’re going to have one long vacation. With quick, jittery steps, Bob exits the kitchen. BOB (O.S.) (CONT’D) We’re taking it to the range tomorrow. Pops his head back in. BOB (CONT’D) I’m going to teach you to drive it. Ducks back out. BEA Oh, I can’t drive that thing, Bob.... BOB (O.S.) Sure you can. I’ll show you. Bea peeps around the curtain with trepidation. BEA What happened to the Escalade? (beat) Bob. Longer beat. Bea turns around. BEA (CONT’D) Bob! 32 EXT. SHOOTING RANGE - NEXT DAY 32 PCHOW! The FIRING of a .22 PISTOL. Bea and Bob stand in individual shooting booths. Bob has the pistol. Bea wields a hefty 30-06. Bob empties his clip as Bea JACKS the last SHELL from the rifle chamber.

Both pull off their earmuffs and press the target return. BOB Let’s see how we did, shall we? 17. While they wait, Bea leans her rifle in a corner and removes her safety glasses. Bob watches unobtrusively, smiling to himself. The targets arrive. The shooters pull them down. Bea’s silver- dollar-sized grouping is just a hair off-center. Bob could have shot a nickel from the bull's-eye of his target. BOB (CONT’D) Well, look at that Honeybee. You’re becoming quite the marksman. Or should I say -- (chuckles) -- marks-woman. His jest falls flat. Bea looks discouraged at the result on her target. BEA Well.... You always were a good shot, Bob. BOB (chuckling) Oh, sweetheart.... He enters Bea’s booth and wraps an arm tightly around her shoulders. BOB (CONT’D) You just need more practice, that’s all. Enter two salty old farts: toothless CHARLIE, and GLEN, a raggedy Harley man. They bear a veritable arsenal: six or seven cased rifles between them, huge tool boxes of rounds, and a holstered pistol or two. When they’re close, they set the rounds and gun cases on the ground. CHARLIE (re: Bea and Bob) Hey, you guys, the kissin’ booth is down there, to the left. Bob turns, sees his compadres, and gives a broad grin. BOB Charlie, you old coot, how the hell are you? Vigorously shakes Charlie’s hand. 18. CHARLIE Y’know, I’m doin’ alright. Okay, I ain’t dead yet, an’ I got me some new guns to try out today, so life

is good. (re: Bea) Hiya, Beatrice. Jerking his thumb at Bob: CHARLIE (CONT’D) You keep him in line now. He can be a real rascal if you don’t watch him close. BEA I always do, Charles. CHARLIE Hey, how many times do I gotta tell you, call me Charlie? None of that Charles shit. Okay? I ain’t never been to private school. Glen grunts. It’s true: no one could ever accuse Charlie of posh schooling. GLEN Is that yer rig back there? BOB Yes, I just got it yesterday. GLEN Now what’re you gonna do with it? You got a job, ain’t you? BOB I just retired. BEA He quit. CHARLIE Well! That’s the way to do it! Tell the ol’ boss to shove it right up his -- GLEN Charlie, why don’t you shut up? Why you gotta comment on everything? 19. CHARLIE Hey, I’m just sayin’, I agree with his methods. (re: Bob) So what are the specs on that thing? What kinda storage does it got? The group starts toward the RV. BOB Well, the under compartments are just huge. I could probably get I don’t know how many suitcases under there, plus several coolers, and still have room left over. Not that we need coolers, because it’s got its own refrigerator and freezer. CHARLIE Freezer, huh? Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. That’s five star treatment right there. 33 INT. JENSEN GARAGE - WORKBENCH - LATER 33

The outline for each tool is drawn on the pegboard beneath its respective hook. Bob bends over the components of a lamp, carefully aligning a wire into a switcher assembly. He tries... tries... can’t quite get it.... Sighing, he sets his tools down, removes his glasses, rubs his eyes. Winces as that familiar pain shoots through his lower abdomen. In a moment he recovers and props his chin in his hand, staring blankly at the lamp. BEA (O.S.) Bob. Can you run to the store and get a gallon of milk? I forgot to get it, and I need some for this recipe. BOB Yes, dear. A beat. He slides his glasses back on, replaces his tools, and carefully straightens his workbench. 20. 34 INT. SUPERMARKET - DAIRY COOLER 34 Bob stands wearily before the lactose smorgasbord. The fluorescent lights blast down on him, seemingly over-bright. The COOLER HUMS, enormously loud. Finally he chooses a jug and grabs it from the cooler. As he’s shutting the door, he stumbles a bit. He clenches the door handle, blinks rapidly, and shakes his head a little. When he’s steadied himself, he turns from the cooler, takes a couple of steps.... And TUMBLES, UNCONSCIOUS, TO THE FLOOR. The milk jug hits the tiles and bursts like an overfull water balloon. A collective gasp erupts from nearby people. Several Samaritans abandon their carts and hurry over to Bob’s still form. An EMPLOYEE flees her post and rushes to his side. EMPLOYEE Sir. Sir!

Vigorously shakes him. Nothing. Bends over and places her ear very near Bob’s mouth. Tense beat. The employee looks urgently at the gathered masses. EMPLOYEE (CONT’D) Somebody call an ambulance! I don’t think he’s breathing. She begins CPR, agonizingly inexpert. 35 INT. CHURCH NARTHEX - DAY - TWO WEEKS LATER 35 Rain drips languorously down the window. It’s a gray, dull day. Bea gazes outside. She’s dressed for somber mourning. DOCTOR (V.O.) Your husband has suffered a severe attack of hypoglycemia. BEA (V.O.) I... don’t understand.... 21. DOCTOR (V.O.) The tumor is preventing Robert’s pancreas from creating insulin. He’s essentially diabetic. BEA (V.O.) I don’t understand, what tumor? Long beat. DOCTOR (V.O.) You mean, he didn’t tell you? BEA (V.O.) No, he didn’t! Tell me what? Then.... DOCTOR (V.O.) Mrs. Jensen, your husband has pancreatic cancer, stage III.... I’m sorry.... It’s very advanced. CAROL and RITA cautiously approach, gazing at their friend with concern. In the background, stiff and uncomfortable, stand Charlie and Glen. RITA Bea... it’s time to go in. People will start showing up soon. Bea stands and gives a brave nod. She looks from one friend to the other, then bursts into thunderous tears. Carol and Rita quickly move to console her. CAROL Oh dear.... Gives Bea a warm, tight hug. CAROL (CONT’D) It’ll be alright, eventually. You’ll see. BEA (muffled) No it won’t. It’s never going to be alright again. (and) Why didn’t he tell me? He could have told me!

Takes a heaving breath and cries fresh tears. 22. 36 EXT. CHURCH NARTHEX - SAME 36 The shadowy damp figure lurks, partially obscured by the driving rain. SPIRIT POV Through the window, the spirit can see Bea as she’s comforted by her friends. 37 INT. CHURCH SANCTUARY - LATER 37 The visitation is over. Everyone has gone. Bea stands before Bob’s open coffin, silent tears sliding down her face. The church soars high around her. The empty balcony, sucking in all of the light and warmth like a black hole. Lacing the walls, hair-sized cracks. Raindrops drip slowly down the stained glass windows, leaving weird, watery shadows on the walls. The church’s FOUNDATIONS GROAN and RUMBLE slightly as the stones settle. Off to one side of the sanctuary, a baptismal font stands in shadow, uncovered. Dancing in and out of the water’s gentle undulations, the silhouette of a foggy figure.... Faintly, the SQUEAK of BATS emits from the belfry. FOOTSTEPS ECHO dimly as an elder navigates a rear corridor. Moments later, the lights extinguish. Bea and Bob are left in solitude. Puddles of light spill onto Bob’s face from the windows beyond. Bea reaches out a trembling hand and places it gently on Bob’s cheek. BEA (whispering) Bob.... She breaks down into uncontrollable sobbing. The sound echoes vastly about the empty church. 38 INT. CHURCH BALCONY - SAME 38 SPIRIT POV An unimpeded view of Bea’s hunched and shaking form as she cries over Bob’s corpse. 23. 39 INT.

CHURCH SANCTUARY - SAME 39 Bea continues to sob. Something unidentifiable flits through the shadows and, with a SIGHING SOUND, vanishes like a breath of wind. 40 INT. JENSEN GARAGE - LATER 40 A Lincoln town car pulls in. 41 I/E. TOWN CAR 41 Bea weeps into her handkerchief. 42 INT. JENSEN GARAGE 42 The RV looms, dwarfing the car and the sad woman inside. Shadows flit eerily across its windows. After a moment, Bea gathers herself sufficiently and exits the vehicle. She wanders by Bob’s work bench: neatly organized, impeccably tidy. She stops before it; looks at it. A small giggle escapes her as she adjusts a handsaw to hang crookedly on its hook. 43 INT. JENSEN HOME - ENTRYWAY 43 A row of well-arranged shoes, sorted by height, color and type. Bea takes one of each pair and flips them upside down, chuckling to herself. She whirls to the closet: coats are arranged in a color spectrum. Laughing a little harder, with a mischievous glint in her eye, Bea rearranges the coats. 44 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN 44 Now completely hysterical, Bea races to the silverware drawer, yanks it open, and seizes the silverware tray. Laughing maniacally, she dumps silverware everywhere. Bea’s hysterical laughter turns quickly and abruptly to hysterical sobbing. She slides down the cabinets until she’s sitting on the floor, the empty tray in her hand. 24. Around her is strewn a sea of silverware, sparkling and bright. 45 INT.

JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - NIGHT 45 Bea tosses and turns in restless sleep. 46 DREAM FLASH: EXT. DARK FOREST - DAY 46 Gray, clammy, cold. A veritable monsoon inundates the forest. Fingers of mist crawl and weave through the trees. Thick, oozing shadows slide along the ground... are they alive? A damp, foggy figure flits within the gloom. 47 DREAM FLASH: EXT. WOODED FIELD (LATE 1930s) - DAY 47 Maude’s dead face, mucid and dank, fills the frame. 48 DREAM FLASH: EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD (LATE 1930s) - NIGHT 48 Pouring rain pelts the mucky road. BLARING of a car RADIO. The vehicle careens over a cliff. The SOUND of the radio QUICKLY FADES as the car falls.... 49 DREAM FLASH: INT. CHURCH SANCTUARY - DAY 49 Dusky atmosphere. The LID of a dark wood coffin GROANS open of its own volition to reveal.... Bob. Dead. 50 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - NIGHT (PRESENT DAY) 50 Bea sluggishly wakes. She clutches Bob’s pillow to her, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. 51 FLASHBACK: INT. COLEMAN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM (LATE 1930s) 51 MOS SOUND Maude clenches the letter knife in her hand. She looks wild- eyed at the officers as she starts to draw the knife across her throat -- An officer dives at her and wrenches the knife from her hand. Young Beatrice shrinks back on the sofa, whimpering. 25. Maude struggles, thrashing about like a lassoed calf. A

narrow stream of blood drips down her neck where she nicked it with the letter knife. A terrific battle ensues. Finally the officers have Maude contained, each locking their arms around her. All three stand a moment, panting. The officers herd Maude from the room, leaving Young Beatrice alone and trembling with fear. 52 INT. DR. CULVER’S OFFICE - DAY 52 Stereotypically bland. The walls, ceiling, and carpet are all the same color of eggshell. The chairs are pale gray and covered in a slippery material. Behind DR. CULVER is a massive dark bookshelf. It’s highly polished, laden with sets of matching volumes lined up like soldiers on a parapet. Dr. Culver, mid-40s, spectacled, with salt and pepper hair, sits across from Bea. Fidgets with a shiny, expensive looking pen. He has no paper; he carries the pen more out of habit. Bea stares vacantly past him. DR. CULVER Bea. He’s apparently tried several times already to get her attention. Bea snaps to, looking startled as she regains focus of her immediate situation. BEA Oh, Dr. Culver, I’m sorry. DR. CULVER No, no, Bea, it’s fine. This is a safe place. I just think it will be better for you if we stay on track. BEA Of course. I’m so sorry. Settles wearily back into her chair. DR. CULVER It’s alright. (quick beat) (MORE) 26. DR. CULVER (CONT'D) What were you thinking about just now? BEA My mother. DR. CULVER Ah, your mother. And how is she? BEA She’s dead.

DR. CULVER Oh, I’m so sorry. This must be a terrible time for you. BEA Yes. (then) Well.... Not really, no, not where my mother’s concerned. She’s been dead a while. DR. CULVER It can still sting. BEA But after some time, it dulls. DR. CULVER That’s a very optimistic thing for you to say, Bea. (beat; Bea is quiet) If it’s a difficult subject, we can move on to something else. Like puppies. They both chuckle. It breaks the tension a little. BEA Oh, no, it’s fine. It’s been so long.... (laughs) She just... snapped one day, I suppose -- my father had died recently in an automobile accident. She was very distraught, and I guess eventually she reached her breaking point. She went away, and I never saw her again. I suppose she must be dead by now. Looks to Dr. Culver for validation on this point. 27. DR. CULVER Feelings of abandonment can be very difficult to overcome. BEA I wasn’t abandoned. (then) Not by my mother, anyway. She trails off into deeply absorbed thought. Dr. Culver respects her reverie for several quiet moments. The he gently breaks it. DR. CULVER Bea, what were you thinking about so intently just now? BEA I was thinking... I’m more like her than I care to admit. DR. CULVER (chuckling) Well, most women are more like their mothers than they care to admit, aren’t they? My wife -- Breaks off laughing as he catches sight of Bea’s sober expression. BEA

It terrifies me. Beat. Dr Culver studies her. DR. CULVER In what way? (and) Because you’re a widow, you mean? Bea gives a wry smile. Beat. Dr. Culver ponders a moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. DR. CULVER (CONT’D) Tell me about your husband. BEA Bob. DR. CULVER Yes, Bob. Tell me about him. What was he like? Why did you love him? Bea laughs a little. 28. DR. CULVER (CONT’D) Why did you hate him sometimes? Bea’s chin trembles. Dr. Culver carefully observes all of her changes in emotion. After a steadying breath: BEA My husband was... the best man in the world. For me. And he -- Tries to go on; can’t. She just nods instead and wipes tears from the corners of her eyes. Tries again to speak. Can’t. DR. CULVER It’s okay, Bea. Don’t feel like you have to continue if you’re unable. Bea gives a hiccuping sob. Dr. Culver considers her a moment. DR. CULVER (CONT’D) I want you to try something, Bea. You said your husband bought an RV? She nods. DR. CULVER (CONT’D) Okay. I want you to try driving in it. (quickly) You don’t have to go far if you don’t want to. (then) But I think if you drove around in the RV that Bob meant for you to travel in -- if you use it the way he would have wanted -- I think you may be able to find some closure. Bea shakes her head. BEA

I can’t drive it. He never got the chance to teach me. DR. CULVER Hm. (beat) Well, don’t you have someone in your family who can teach you? A son or daughter? (MORE) 29. DR. CULVER (CONT'D) Maybe if you packed them all up and went on a road trip together, that would help you all find a little -- BEA (softly) We never had any children. Quiet beat. There is silence except for Bea’s low crying. DR. CULVER Well, you need to be around people, Bea. You need to be around your friends. It’s not healthy to go through the grieving process alone. BEA I don’t really have any friends.... DR. CULVER Oh, now, that can’t be true. You go to church, don’t you? You must know some nice ladies in the congregation that would be willing to help you. BEA Their husbands are still alive. DR. CULVER You should talk to them; make some friends. Bea only shakes her head. DR. CULVER (CONT’D) You could get involved in the Ladies Aid. That would be nice for you, I think. BEA I don’t want to be around those people. DR. CULVER Have they been offensive to you in some way? BEA No. They just.... They all feel sorry for me. 30. DR. CULVER As they should. You’ve suffered a tragic loss -- BEA They know me too well. I just want to forget it happened at all. DR. CULVER Surely you don’t want to forget Bob? Bea is silent.

DR. CULVER (CONT’D) I see. You want to grieve in your own time, on your own terms. That’s understandable. Nods to himself. DR. CULVER (CONT’D) But you can’t hide from the world. At least, you shouldn’t. (beat) You could get a job. Bea gives a bitter laugh. BEA Where would I look? DR. CULVER The classified, Craigslist, Indeed.... There are plenty of online resources for job seekers. BEA I don’t have any skills. DR. CULVER I don’t believe that, Bea. Not for an instant. You’re a smart woman. You can answer phones, can’t you? You can type? You can read and do math? Bea nods in assent to each of his questions in turn. DR. CULVER (CONT’D) See? Who says you don’t have any skills? For the sorts of jobs I suspect you’d be looking at, you have all of the skills you need. 31. Bea bursts into tears. DR. CULVER (CONT’D) It’s intimidating, isn’t it? Bea nods. DR. CULVER (CONT’D) I know it seems hard now, but I really think that if you do this, it will help you tremendously. You can’t sit alone and deal with this on your own, Bea. It will break you. 53 INT. LIBRARY - AFTERNOON 53 Bea sits in the midst of a sea of books about resumes, cover letters, and interviews. She peruses one, taking careful notes. 54 INT. JENSEN HOME - HOME OFFICE - MIDDAY 54 An easel stands beside the desktop monitor, on which is a

hand-drafted version of a resume. Bea recreates it in a Word document, making frequent sounds of frustration. 55 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN 55 SERIES OF SHOTS A.) Newspapers are strewn across the table. Bea scrutinizes them, etching careful notes into a notebook. B.) Bea picks up the phone. C.) A stack of resumes and cover letters sit neatly side- by-side on the table top. Bea signs a cover letter, deftly folds it with a resume, and stuffs an envelope. Repeat. D.) Bea hangs up the phone, a forlorn look on her face. She crosses off the next phone number on the list. All of the previous numbers have been struck through. E.) Bea scrawls an address on an envelope and adds it to a growing pile. 32. F.) Bea hangs up the phone; scratches out another number. G.) Bea nibbles at her breakfast muffin, reading over the classifieds. Occasionally, she takes a pen and circles one. H.) Bea licks an envelope shut; stamps it, tosses it into a haphazard pile of other similarly-appointed envelopes. I.) A black Sharpie is scribbled wildly over the classifieds. J.) Bea sits alone at the table, her head in her hands. Around her are strewn her job-hunt paraphernalia. She looks very small. 56 I/E. TOWN CAR - TSS OFFICE - DAY 56 The TSS office building looks like a really up-scale pole shed crossed with a contractor’s on-sight office. An ugly sign announces: “THANATOS SECURITY SYSTEMS.” A box of wilting zinnias decorates one window.

Bea gives her makeup one last check in the rearview mirror, fluttering nervously with her hair. On the passenger seat is a neat manila folder with her resume and cover letter. 57 I/E. TSS OFFICE - LOBBY - SAME 57 It’s crammed full of restless people, like cattle crammed into a free-stall barn. Plastic folding chairs line the walls of the miniscule lobby, each one occupied. The room is full past capacity; there are as many people standing as there are sitting. Bea sits crunched into a seat, the folder hugged to her chest. On either side of her, large, gruff-looking men. Her hair is frazzled -- it’s not pleased with the circumstances. Ana sidles through the door and chooses an unobtrusive place. She seems to give the room a cursory scan, though it’s hard to tell through the ever-present shades. Suddenly, she stops and looks intently in Bea’s direction. 33. She lifts her sunglasses a little, her brown eyes boring into Bea’s head. Her shiner is gone; in it’s place, on the opposite eye, is a tiny slice with two dainty stitches. Ana stares at Bea the way people do when they’re trying to place a face of fleeting familiarity. Bea senses the scrutiny and turns sharply to see Ana. The two exchange small smiles, then Ana flicks her shades down and looks off in another direction. An HR representative breezes in. REPRESENTATIVE Bea Jensen? With a small fit of jitters, Bea rises and walks briskly to the representative.

REPRESENTATIVE (CONT’D) We’re just going to go through here, okay? The two disappear. 58 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN - MID MORNING 58 The shrill BLARE of a ringing TELEPHONE. Bea bursts in, her arms bowing under their burden of grocery bags. She struggles to free her appendages. BEA Coming, coming! Coming! -- Oh! Ouch! A handle breaks and cans cascade onto Bea’s foot. This doesn’t slow her at all. She extracts herself and the next instant bounds to the phone, answering it on the last ring. BEA (CONT’D) (breathless) Hello, Beatrice Jensen speaking. HOFFMAN (V.O.) Hi, Beatrice. BEA May I ask who’s calling? HOFFMAN (V.O.) This is Charles Hoffman, from TSS. I’m the manager of our integrated marketing office. 34. BEA Oh! Mr. Hoffman, hello! HOFFMAN (V.O.) I’m calling in regards to the position that you applied for. The team and I have made a decision, and if you’re still interested, we’d be delighted to have you on board. Bea breaks into joyful laughter. 59 INT. TSS OFFICE 59 A couple of small windows pierce the walls, letting hard sunlight burst between the slats of the vertical blinds. Very white walls. Carpet of the dorm room variety. In the corner, an aged and rickety coffee brewer sits on a dingy microwave cart. The cloudy glass pot is filled with two- day-old sludge -- it looks like old oil. Dominating the room is a massive wooden table that looks as

though it was made from the decking of an ancient pirate ship. A smudged layer of Plexiglas covers the tabletop. A TV from the early 2000s sits on one of those grade school TV carts. The tail end of a sexual harassment video drones away on-screen. Eight new trainees, including Ana and Bea, occupy the room. It appears that literally anyone could have been hired for this job -- some people look like they’re homeless. There’s a guy who compulsively shoves his glasses up on his nose. A scowling, muscular teenager clenches his folded arms across his chest. One dude with horrendously greasy hair fidgets with a sock hat that looks like it leads a double life as a grease rag. Shunted off to the side sits a middle-aged woman. She’s that one person who always gives training videos their undivided attention. She’s even jotting notes in the handbook. Ana, dressed in her usual raiment, shoots that woman a quizzical look, then glances at Bea. She catches her eye, and both women stifle a small laugh. 35. VIDEO NARRATOR (O.S.) ... And remember, if you see or suspect sexual harassment, or are the victim of sexual harassment, contact your supervisor immediately. We value your safety, and strive to make this a safe and enjoyable working environment. TRIUMPHANT TRAINING VIDEO MUSIC. VIDEO NARRATOR (V.O.) Thank you for watching this presentation on sexual harassment. We hope that the need for this information never arises, but if it

does, you can rest assured knowing that you are now better equipped to deal with these situations. If you have questions or concerns at any time, contact your supervisor. Thank you again, and enjoy your career with Thanatos Security Systems. The credits roll. ADRIAN MOFFAT, late 20s, stands from her seat beside the TV and jams the power button. She turns and surveys her trainees, a drill sergeant eyeing new recruits. ADRIAN Any questions? Not a peep is uttered. The trainees just stare at her, waiting for something -- anything -- to happen. ADRIAN (CONT’D) Okay.... She consults her training materials. The NOTE-TAKER raises her hand. Adrian casts a cold eye on her. ADRIAN (CONT’D) Yes? NOTE-TAKER So if we see any sexual harassment, we should report it to you? ADRIAN No. You would report something like that to Charles Hoffman, our manager. 36. Looks down at her notes. The note-taker scribbles. ADRIAN (CONT’D) Okay, so, to punch in -- The note-taker raises her hand. Adrian rolls her eyes -- almost. ADRIAN (CONT’D) (forced patience) Yes? NOTE-TAKER Aren’t you our supervisor? ADRIAN No, I’m just doing orientation. NOTE-TAKER Doesn’t that imply that you hold some sort of leadership position? ADRIAN Yes. I lead orientation. Returns to her notes one more time. ADRIAN (CONT’D) So we use a system called Oracle, it’s totally online, pretty easy once you get the hang of it, and -- Again, it’s the note-taker. ADRIAN (CONT’D) What? NOTE-TAKER So just to be clear, is hugging

considered sexual harassment? Because at my previous job, there was a guy who was always hugging me. I mean, not just me, but everyone. All women. So I’m just wondering.... The expression on Adrian's face suggests she’d like to tear note-taker’s head off. 37. 60 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR 60 A little maze of gray cubicles, most of them full. Adrian leads the trainees, weaving through the sales floor to a table at the far end. The table holds stacks of literature and boxes of the various types of security systems that the company sells. ADRIAN Thanatos Security Systems offers a wide variety of security systems for all of our customers’ security needs, for both home and business. You -- Fixes the trainees with a solemn look. ADRIAN (CONT’D) -- are our front line. Your job is simple: set appointments for our sales representatives. Do that, and you will be successful. Fail to do that, and you’ll be terminated. It’s that simple. Reaches behind her and produces a small stack of folders filled with papers. She hands them around to the trainees. ADRIAN (CONT’D) (while passing folders) Inside these folders, you’ll find brief informational guides on all of our security products. Familiarize yourselves with them. You must be able to pitch all of our products when you’re speaking with customers. You will also find protocol outlines for calling, pitching, and setting appointments. Know this stuff like the back of your hand.

Finished now with issuing her gifts, Adrian steps back and puts her fists on her hips. ADRIAN (CONT’D) Listen guys, a monkey could do your job. Don’t make us wish we’d hired a monkey instead of you. 38. 61 INT. TSS OFFICE - BREAKROOM 61 Nothing fancy, just a couple of folding tables ranged down the middle of a bland room. At one end, a small sink area, with microwave and stove. Along a wall, a bank of lockers. A woman and a man, TERRY and COREY, occupy the room as the trainees file in. It’s solemn and quiet; the trainees sit apart from the experienced workers, in almost unconscious division. CROSSED ARMS (re: stocking hat guy) Dude, Adrian’s intense, huh? STOCKING HAT GUY (grunts incoherently) Terry and Corey eye the trainees as they enter. Their eyes skate to Ana, sans sunglasses; they look at each other and grin a little bit before returning to their TV dinners. Ana is oblivious. STOCKING HAT GUY and CROSSED ARMS sit together; GLASSES PUSHER gravitates toward the note-taker. Two other people sit apart from the group. Ana and Bea are the only ones left. With barely a glance at Bea, Ana seats herself. She pulls a slightly-mashed PB&J from a well-worn paper bag and commences eating the dreary meal. A moment of consideration. Bea plops herself down across from Ana and divulges the contents of an overly-large Coleman cooler: carrots and dip; a salad and a bottle of dressing; cheese and crackers; four

granola bars; an apple; and a left-over hamburger. She watches Ana eat. Beat. BEA I’m Beatrice. At first, Ana doesn’t seem to quite comprehend that Bea is speaking to her. She looks up belatedly, an expression of mild astonishment scrawled across her face. ANA What? 39. BEA I’m Beatrice. (and) Bea. ANA Nice. (nods) I’m Ana. Resumes eating. Bea watches; fixes her salad; watches Ana again. BEA So do you like it here? ANA I don’t know. Glances around, then lowers her voice conspiratorially. ANA (CONT’D) First day. Eats. BEA Oh. (then) Right! I saw you during the video. You were wearing sunglasses. ANA (absently) That sounds like me. BEA What happened to them? ANA I took them off. They seemed kinda pointless inside. BEA Oh. (beat) I’m very optimistic about this job. I was a bit leery, when Dr. Culver first suggested it, but I think it’s going to work out fine. ANA ... Who’s Dr. Culver? 40. BEA My psychiatrist. Ana catches herself just in time to avoid raising her eyebrows into judgemental arches. BEA (CONT’D) I didn’t want to, at first, but now I’m starting to think he was right. ANA Mm. BEA Besides, Bob would tell me to do it anyway. Beat. Bea seems to be waiting for comment. Ana at last obliges. ANA Who’s Bob? BEA My husband. (then) He passed away. Vigorously stirs her salad. Ana lowers her gaze. Bea rises, grabs a cup of water from the sink. Returns.

By now, Ana has finished her sandwich and looks around, her gaze lingering longingly on the lunches of others. Bea watches Ana’s eyes rove the room. Beat. BEA (CONT’D) Do you want my granola bars? Ana looks swiftly at her. ANA What? Oh, no, I don’t want to take your lunch -- BEA Oh, dear, I have more than enough. Here. Slides the granola bars across the table to Ana. BEA (CONT’D) I prefer chocolate chip anyway. 41. Ana glances at the bars. With a small smile, she unwraps the first one and takes a bite. 62 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR - DAY 62 The hum of subdued speech; a near-constant RINGING of desk PHONES. CLACKING KEYBOARDS. In a cubicle section apart from the rest of the more seasoned salespeople sit the trainees, like obedient little puppies. They speak earnestly into their phones and frequently consult cheat sheets. Hoffman patrols; the general is surveying his troops. Adrian stands off to one side, assisting one of the newbies. A frantic wave from Bea beckons her. Biting back a rude reaction, she bustles over and bends over Bea. Putting her hand over the phone speaker: BEA (anxiously) What if they’re the housekeeper? ADRIAN Go to the presentation. BEA But he’s not the owner. He’s just the -- ADRIAN Go to the presentation. BEA But -- ADRIAN Go to the presentation. This is not rocket science. Bea opens her mouth to protest; the phone is yanked roughly from her grasp.

Adrian plasters on a surprisingly friendly smile. ADRIAN (CONT’D) Excuse me, sir. Are you still there? (quick beat) Yes, I’m her supervisor. (laughs) (MORE) 42. ADRIAN (CONT’D) Thank you for being so patient, sir. (listens) Yes, she’s still got a lot to learn. (and) Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Adrian, and I’m an associate here at Thanatos Security Systems. Every thirteen seconds in this country a burglary is committed, typically costing the homeowner around twenty thousand dollars per incident, not to mention the loss of confidence regarding the safety of their home. We at Thanatos Security Systems are proud to be able to give our customers peace of mind and substantial savings on their homeowner’s insurance. We have our systems specialists in your area this week and they would be happy to bring by your free Home Buy gift card and complimentary security flashlight, then take about fifteen minutes to explain which of our systems would be right for your home. Are afternoons or early evenings best for you? (beat) Afternoons? Wonderful. What day would you like? Types deftly on the computer as she listens. ADRIAN (CONT’D) Perfect. I’ve got you in. Thank you so much for choosing Thanatos Security Systems, sir, and we look forward to a long and secure partnership with you. The call is ended. Adrian lets the PHONE CLATTER into the cradle and casts a disparaging look at Bea. ADRIAN (CONT’D) Just so we’re clear, that was my sell, not yours.

Straightens up and cracks her neck. ADRIAN (CONT’D) You get the next one. 43. She strides away, a cloudy look on her face. 63 INT. TSS OFFICE - HALLWAY - AFTERNOON 63 Bea heads toward the door and freedom, her belongings in hand. Ana hurries up and matches pace with Bea until they arrive at the door. Abruptly, Ana speaks. ANA Hey. Bea. Surprised, Bea looks at Ana. ANA (CONT’D) (uncomfortable) I just wanted to say thanks for the granola bars. BEA Well, you’re more than welcome. She moves to leave. Ana’s voice stops her. ANA And I wanted to apologize. Bea meets Ana’s eyes, shock written on her face. BEA What for, dear? ANA Well, it’s just.... I know it’s like.... (she struggles) ...not cool to ask people for food during break, but.... The words seem stuck in her throat. Bea waits patiently for Ana to free them. Finally: ANA (CONT’D) (in a rush) There’s not that much food in my house, and I’m not really allowed to get my own stuff cuz we’re on a budget, so sometimes I just.... Bea puts a comforting hand on Ana’s shoulder. 44. BEA (smiling) It’s perfectly fine. I don’t mind. After a moment, Ana decides that Bea’s sentiments are genuine. She gives a small smile in return. 64 INT. TSS OFFICE - BREAK ROOM - DAY 64 Sitting side-by-side are Bea and Ana, sharing Bea’s lunch. Ana has already devoured her miniscule meal. Nearby, Terry

and Corey chuckle over a couple of sodas. Ana scrubs vigorously at her ear. ANA God, those headsets are so uncomfortable. Terry perks up at the sound of her voice. TERRY Ugh, I hear you. My first couple weeks here, I had these twinging headaches after every shift. Wearily, Ana nods her head; that’s exactly her ailment. TERRY (CONT’D) I got some aspirin in my locker, if you need. Somewhat taken aback: ANA Yeah... sure, thanks. Terry starts off to retrieve the aspirin. Bea looks from one to the other, a slight smile on her lips. Ana doesn’t notice. 65 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR - DAY 65 It’s busy hour. All of the employees are in varying states of aggravation and harassment. Around the trainees, a general air of panic pervades. Adrian skulks in a corner. Hoffman paces, not in the least a helpful or comforting presence. HOFFMAN Let’s go, people. We have a goal to meet before five o’clock today. 45. A PHONE is DROPPED THUNDEROUSLY. Note-taker raises her hands in victory. NOTE-TAKER I got another one! A grudging smile slides across Hoffman’s face. HOFFMAN Good going. That’s good stuff. His expression collapses back to its habitual frowning-brick- wall. HOFFMAN (CONT’D) The rest of you, catch up. ADRIAN I need this incentive just as much as y’all. HOFFMAN Every thirteen seconds, a burglary is committed! Let’s go, people. Let’s go! Catches sight of Ana, who has just hung up the phone with an unmistakable look of defeat.

He gestures to Adrian, who looks to Ana with a piercing gaze. ADRIAN (barking) McCahl! Ana couldn’t leap more violently if she’d been Tasered. For an instant only, a look of actual fear crosses her face. But she masters herself quickly; by the time she looks at Adrian, her expression is blank to near insolence. At this apparent disrespect, Adrian bridles. ADRIAN (CONT’D) You have the lowest numbers of anyone here. Let’s see some actual effort from you. Setting her jaw, Ana returns doggedly to her task. Adrian sends a last stinging remark after her: ADRIAN (CONT’D) If my kids go hungry this week, I’ll know who to blame. 46. 66 INT. TSS OFFICE - BREAKROOM - LATER 66 Terry and Corey haunt the b.g. Bea and Ana sit together in their usual formation. Ana’s sole lunch item is a Zip-loc bag of potato chips. ANA Oh! Sometimes Adrian just makes me want to -- Seizes her potato chips and crushes them slowly and terrifically in her hand. Then she lets the bag fall in a “mic drop” gesture. A coughing laugh from Corey and Terry causes Ana to turn to them. An impish grin crosses her face, and she brushes the bag derisively aside. ANA (CONT’D) (re: Terry) That’s her head. Adrian bustles in and overhears this last as she grabs her lunch from the fridge. ADRIAN Who’s head? Terry and Corey burst into howls of laughter. Bea even giggles a little through her bottle of tea.

Ana turns to Bea, remarkably dead-pan. ANA Do you have any more of those humongous apples? I’m starving. BEA You need to bring a bigger lunch, honey. ANA (shrugging) Probably. Feints at pulling Bea’s lunch box towards herself. BEA (re: crushed chips) Don’t you have more food than that at home? Ana evades the question, only dives into Bea’s lunch box; gleefully withdraws a bag of fruit snacks and digs in; 47. watches Bea for a reaction, her brown eyes sparkling brightly. Bea gives the sort of amused smile that grandmothers give and bites into a BLT. TERRY You know I had a customer once give me an earful because he said I was going to steal his ID and charge up thousands of dollars on Mexican cruises. COREY You know, that idea’s not half bad. (then) I’d never do it, but it doesn’t sound half bad. Swigs some water. Adrian snickers. Everyone stares, then quickly looks away. COREY (CONT’D) One time, I called and asked, you know, “are you the homeowner?” And the lady said she wasn’t, so I asked for the proper phone number, and I called the number she gave -- it was for one of those phone-sex places. TERRY (snickering) Really? What did you do? COREY Well we’re always having that “get your numbers” mantra crammed down our throats, right? So I just waited until someone called Rosalita came on the line, and I said, “Hello, ma’am, I’m Corey with Thanatos Security Systems. We are

the leading company in home security. Are you the home owner?” Laughter erupts from the listeners -- except for Adrian, who has ear buds in. TERRY Did you actually go through the whole script? 48. COREY I tried. She told me to go screw myself. The two erupt into chuckles. ANA Don’t these people know we have their contact information? The two look at her. Bea watches attentively. Ana glances to where Adrian sits, oblivious, and lowers her voice a pitch or two. ANA (CONT’D) I mean, they should really be more careful what they say to us. If we really wanted, we could make a list of all the rude ones and go egg their houses or spray paint their cars or something. Beat. Corey and Terry burst into laughter. Bea pats Ana’s hand in a conciliatory manner, but she smiles nonetheless. 67 EXT. TSS OFFICE 67 The sun beats down mercilessly on Ana, who paces in front of the building. It seems she’s been waiting awhile. Bea exits and sends Ana a sidelong glance. BEA You seem to be waiting for something. ANA Yeah, just my ride. BEA You don’t have a car? ANA No, I called a cab. Beat. BEA You get a taxi to and from work every day? ANA Yeah. 49. BEA Why? Beat. Ana stops pacing and leans awkwardly against the wall. BEA (CONT’D) If you’d like, I can give you a ride. ANA (perking up) Really? (then) I don’t want to inconvenience you.

BEA Mercy me, dear, it’s no problem at all. I’ve got plenty of room. Come on. Ana hesitates. BEA (CONT’D) (coaxing) Come on. With a jaunty grin, Ana dances up to Bea. They walk away together. 68 I/E. TOWN CAR 68 Ana throws herself into the vehicle with enthusiasm. Bea’s expression changes: she’s had a thought. BEA (brightly) How about if we go grocery shopping? We can find you some good food to take home. A look of fear flickers across Ana’s face. ANA Well, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.... BEA Trouble? Nonsense. You’re in need. Helping you is the Christian thing to do. Come on. (grabs Ana’s arm) It’ll be fun. 50. Beat. Ana gives a small smile. ANA Okay. Bea nods. BEA Good. Beat. Ana furrows her brows with an unvoiced concern. BEA (CONT’D) (glancing over) What’s the matter, Ana? Quick beat. ANA Is it alright if we maybe don’t bring the stuff back to my house? (rushing on) It’s just that I don’t want it to seem like I’m asking people for favors. Beat. Bea mulls over what Ana has asked, but hides her concern well. BEA Absolutely. We can do that. Gives another smile. BEA (CONT’D) Now buckle your seat belt. With a roll of her eyes, Ana does as she’s told. Bea throws the car in gear and pulls from the drive. 69 INT. SUPERMARKET - LATER 69 The RATTLE and CLATTER of WHEELS as a partially-laden shopping cart is propelled along.

Bea pushes the cart at a sedate pace, casually considering the items on the shelves. In the basket of the cart are nutritious foods, a box of cereal, and some English muffins. Around the corner bounces Ana, hugging a box of fruit snacks to her chest. 51. ANA I’m getting this. Flops the fruit snacks into the cart. BEA What is that? Withdraws the box of fruit snacks and peers at them. BEA (CONT’D) No. Put them back. ANA What? BEA This is junk food. Put them back. ANA But they’re yummy. BEA They’re all sugar. They’re not good for you. Put them back. Ana reluctantly takes the box. ANA (a bit pouty) I thought we were shopping for me. BEA We are, but if you’re going to get food, it’s going to be good food. Now march. A melodramatic sigh escapes Ana. ANA Fine. She stomps flat-footed around the corner. Bea smiles to herself. Ana returns momentarily, clutching a box of Totino’s pizza rolls. She displays it to Bea with an air of teenaged insolence. ANA (CONT’D) Can I get this? BEA No. 52. ANA Why not? BEA Because it’s not good for you. ANA What are you talking about? There’s meat in this. And cheese. And look: “Sauce made with real tomatoes.” That’s a vegetable. There’s, like, half the food pyramid in here. BEA No. Ana throws her head back in an over-zealous display of vexation. Then she walks toward the end of the aisle.

Just before she turns the corner, she looks back. ANA You’re ruining my life, Mom. With a smirk, she disappears. Bea giggles uncontrollably for a few moments before regaining her composure. 70 EXT. JENSEN HOME - NIGHT 70 POV Of something high in a tree. This something has a full view of the front door. As it looks on: A pizza delivery driver pulls up the drive, exits his vehicle, and trundles to the house under the burden of pizza, bread sticks, and soda. He RINGS the DOOR BELL. Beat. Bea comes to the door. 71 INT. JENSEN HOME - ENTRYWAY - CONTINUOUS 71 Bea hurries to take the pizza from the poor delivery boy. PIZZA DELIVERY BOY Okay, I have a triple-cheese meat- lovers’ with stuffed crust, three- cheese bread sticks, and a liter of Mountain Dew. 53. As he names each item, he transfers the burden from his arms to Bea’s. Now empty handed: PIZZA DELIVERY BOY (CONT’D) That’ll be twenty bucks please. BEA Oh, um.... Looks around a moment, then hurriedly sets the food down and seizes her purse from nearby. ANA (O.S.) Is my soul food here? Trots into the kitchen and grabs the bread sticks wrapper in her hands. She takes a huge, luxurious sniff. ANA (CONT’D) Yes. Come to Mama. She takes the food and disappears back into the living room. Bea hands the pizza delivery boy some money with a wry smile and follows after Ana. 72 EXT. JENSEN HOME 72 POV

The something in the tree watches the pizza delivery boy get in his car and pull away. Beat. BACK TO SCENE Standing on the knotty bough of a massive tree is.... An owl. He blinks and swivels his head toward the camera. 73 INT. JENSEN HOME - LIVING ROOM 73 Ana has established a little camp around her, with the food arranged like the walls of a fort. She leans on the coffee table, looking at a laptop. Already, she’s devoured half a slice of pizza. 54. She takes a swig of Dew straight from the bottle as she peruses the computer. On the sofa are strewn a few old photographs and an aged document or two. Off to the side, half forgotten, the box that they call home. Bea sinks down onto her sofa seat and picks up the memorabilia. Sliding on her spectacles, she resumes looking. A wistful expression soon crosses her face. ANA What about this one, Bea? Two bed, one bath, private balcony, gym, pool.... (then) Oh.... Two grand a month. Bea raises her eyebrows. BEA My goodness. ANA (muttering) Where did that studio go? Peers closer at the screen as she continues searching. Down goes another quaff of soda. Bea lays her photos aside and watches Ana, a motherly look of contentment on her face. Then: BEA Are you really going to eat all of that? ANA Yeah. BEA But you’re so small. Ana looks up, a brilliant grin on her face. ANA

My stomach is like the TARDIS. It’s bigger on the inside. Laughs. Bea doesn’t get the reference and after a moment, she returns to her pictures. Ana leaps from her seat on the floor, grabs a bread stick, and settles beside Bea. 55. ANA (CONT’D) What are you looking at? BEA Oh, just some old photographs. Ana points to the picture in Bea’s hands, careful to keep her greasy fingers off of the material. ANA Who’s that? BEA It’s my father. (smiles) I remember, when I was a little girl, he would sometimes take me into town with him and buy me a Coca-Cola or a vanilla milkshake. Nostalgic beat. BEA (CONT’D) He was a wonderful man. (then; rousing herself) But he died a long time ago. Sets the photo aside; picks up another. BEA (CONT’D) My mother. (then) This is the last picture I have of her. ANA Why is this the last picture you have? Did she die when you were a child too? BEA Well.... My mother went to a hospital for very sick people. (and) And, after a little while, she ran away. They never found her. Beat. Ana leans back, nibbling on her bread stick. At last, Bea smiles and slips her glasses off. BEA (CONT’D) Well, shouldn’t you be getting home? 56. Ana turns the bread stick around in her hands, ripping it to small pieces as she speaks. ANA No.... It’s Friday. He’ll be out all weekend. Pops a piece into her mouth.

ANA (CONT’D) I’ll walk home tomorrow. BEA It’s twenty blocks. ANA Twenty-five. Smiles and looks at Bea. ANA (CONT’D) Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Bea looks at Ana a moment, as if unsure of whether or not to believe her. At last, she pats Ana’s leg and rises. BEA Well, I’m going to go to bed. ANA Have a good night. Bea starts straightening up the pictures. Ana puts out a hand to stop her. ANA (CONT’D) I can do it. BEA Are you sure? Oh, dear, that would be so helpful. I’m so tired.... The two exchange smiles and Bea walks away. Ana straightens the pictures, carefully shuffling them into order and placing them in the box. From under the scattered photographs protrudes a corner of yellowed paper. Ana spies it, looks a moment, then carefully tugs it free. She settles back on the couch as she reads the words: “MY DEAR BEATRICE,” 57. written in beautiful, flowing script. A small smile flits across Ana’s face as she reads the letter. All is still and silent save the HOLLOW TICKING of a grandfather CLOCK. Finishing the letter, Ana rouses herself with a shake. She looks pensively at the far wall for a moment, then rises and grabs another slice of ‘za. She walks slowly through the room. Her eyes wander over the various pictures hanging on the walls. There are no pictures of children. A sudden creak from the house causes her to jump violently. She looks around. Nothing.

After a moment, she returns to the pictures. A shadow flits past the window. 74 EXT. JENSEN HOME - MORNING 74 POV Of something high in a tree. This something has a full view of the front door. As it looks on: Bea exits the house and totes the now-empty pizza box and soda bottle to the trash can at the curb. The thing rises up and dives toward Bea... BACK TO SCENE A shadowy shape passes over Bea; the CAW of a CROW penetrates the still morning. The sound startles Bea, who jumps and looks up just in time to see the crow fly away. A laugh escapes her and she presses her hand to her breast. POV Of something else in that tree. As it looks on, Bea re-enters the house. 58. As soon as the door shuts, the something floats down from the tree toward the house, closer.... Closer.... It passes before a house window, revealing itself, for just an instant: Maude Coleman. 75 INT. TSS OFFICE - BREAKROOM - SEVERAL DAYS LATER 75 Ana bustles in and punches her time card with seconds to spare. An exhale of relief. She glances around the room. It’s empty except for Terry, who nurses a cup of crappy coffee in the corner. ANA Where’s Bea? Shrugging: TERRY I don’t know. It’s probably her day off. Something like fright crosses Ana’s face, for only an instant, and then it’s gone. She leaves the breakroom as swiftly as she entered it.

76 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR 76 The much-harassed telemarketers sit in their cubbies. Hoffman and Adrian lurk like gargoyles in the background. Hoffman occasionally shouts such encouraging epithets as: HOFFMAN No sales, no employment! It’s that simple, people! Terry leans forward, speaking seriously with a customer. TERRY Did you know that the average American home has over twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth of valuables inside at any given time? And that’s not even to mention.... Further down the line, Ana leans back in her chair, talking with pure exasperation. 59. ANA Hello, ma’am, my name is Ana and I’m with Thanatos Security Systems. We are the leading company in -- hello? Here comes Hoffman, marching down the rows of cubicles in his general-like way. When he gets to Ana’s cubicle, he stops and makes a show of waiting. ANA (CONT’D) Ma’am? Hello? CUSTOMER (V.O.) Take me off your fucking list. ANA Yes, I will take you off our list immediately. CUSTOMER (V.O.) Take me off your fucking list right now. ANA Absolutely, I will take care of that. Thanks so much for your -- Hangs up, disgruntled and discouraged. HOFFMAN Loose another one? Silence from Ana. HOFFMAN (CONT’D) Uh-huh. You need to bring your numbers up or your job is in real jeopardy. Got it? Ana nods. 77 EXT. TSS OFFICE 77 The sun is setting, driving knives of light across the scene. Ana leans against the wall, her shades down. Nearby, the

zinnias in the window box have been burned to a crisp. Corey emerges, almost passes Ana, then stops short. COREY You still here? 60. ANA Yeah. Quick beat. COREY Why? ANA ‘Cuz I love it so much. COREY (grinning) Naw.... ANA You got me. COREY Seriously though.... Beat. Ana clearly is not going to answer him. COREY (CONT’D) Hey, um, if you need a ride, I can give you one.... ANA (softly) That’s okay. My boyfriend’s coming to get me. COREY Oh. (beat) Well, I’ll just stand here and makes sure he comes. ANA (with slight fear) I’d really rather you didn’t -- Just then, a real piece-of-shit car peels into the drive, letting fly a swirl of gravel dust. The shocks are so bad that the thing bounces like a jump house. The car parks and an instant later, the driver leaps from the seat. It’s SHANE, Ana’s boyfriend. He wears a crisp shirt and tie, well-ironed pants, and buffed shoes. SHANE Get your ass in this car now! 61. Ana bursts from the wall like it’s electric and dashes doggedly toward Shane, her head down. SHANE (CONT’D) You know you need to tell me before you go anywhere. Anywhere. And what the hell do you need a job for? Ana tries to climb into the passenger seat, but Shane blocks her path. SHANE (CONT’D) Don’t I provide for you? Don’t I? (beat) Answer me, you ungrateful bitch! Clouts Ana on the side of the head. ANA (barely audible)

Corey seems highly chagrined. After a moment, Ana snatches her glasses back and jabs them onto her face. 79 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR 79 A helpless expression is scrawled across Ana’s face. Her head is half-buried in her hands as she speaks with forced patience. ANA I’m sorry, sir, you’re going to have to speak up. I’m having a hard time hearing you. (quick beat) Yes sir, we already have your address. (MORE) 63. ANA (CONT'D) I just need you to confirm what times work best for you so that our security specialists can -- CUSTOMER (V.O.) Dammit, lady, how did you get my address? I never gave it to you. Is this some sort of scam? Because if it is, you can just take your scam and shove it right up your foreign, Indian -- (incoherent speech) ANA I’m sorry, sir, I’m having a hard time understanding you. Could you please enunciate? CUSTOMER (V.O.) Enunciate this! DIAL TONE. The line is dead. Ana rips her headset off and chucks it into the corner of her cubicle. She buries her face in her hands a moment, then straightens up, brushing her hair back over her head. Adrian walks by. ADRIAN Another stellar performance, McCahl. Great job. Ana glares at Adrian’s retreating back. Suddenly, Adrain stops in her tracks and spins back to face Ana. ADRIAN (CONT’D) Oh, by the way, you’re wanted in the manager’s office. 80 INT. TSS OFFICE - HOFFMAN’S OFFICE 80

Hoffman sits at his desk, peering intently through his spectacles at his computer. He types as quickly as he can, pecking with his index fingers, jabbing the keys. Ana hovers at the doorway, waiting to be noticed. Presently, Hoffman glances up, sees Ana, and beckons her in. As she sits, he removes his spectacles and leans back in his chair. 64. HOFFMAN Hello, Ana. Almost inaudibly: ANA Mr. Hoffman. A couple of quick CLICKS of the MOUSE from Hoffman; the sound fills the silent room. Then: HOFFMAN I’m just taking a look at your employee file here. Ana sits in silence. HOFFMAN (CONT’D) Your sales numbers are particularly horrendous. ANA Yes. HOFFMAN I can’t remember having ever hired a worse employee. You’re the weakest link in this chain. ANA (near tears) Yes. HOFFMAN And repeated warnings to that effect have produced no change. ANA I try, Mr. Hoffman, I really do -- HOFFMAN I’m sure you think so, but unfortunately, “try” doesn’t get sales. Selling gets sales. Looks to Ana. HOFFMAN (CONT’D) That’s what we do here. Sell. And you’re not selling. (MORE) 65. HOFFMAN (CONT’D) Your numbers have been disappointing since you started, with no sign of improvement. Quiet and stillness from Ana. HOFFMAN (CONT’D) Ana... we can’t have shit sales people at this company. We’re going to have to get rid of you. ANA Please, Mr. Hoffman -- I’ll work more hours, I will. I’ll work weekends -- holidays -- HOFFMAN At this juncture, those gestures

are not enough. ANA Please -- HOFFMAN That’s just the way it is. Ana sits back in her chair, as though she’s been run over by a steam roller. Beat. Hoffman turns back to his computer. HOFFMAN (CONT’D) You have half an hour to clear out your things. ANA Can I at least finish out the day? HOFFMAN I’d rather you didn’t. Ana takes a moment, lets this sink in. Then, with a nod, Ana stands and walks slowly from the room. 81 INT. TSS OFFICE 81 Ana walks head held high to her cubicle, where she stops. Bea, Adrian and Corey watch her, but she doesn’t notice. She looks around her small, bland space. After a moment, she seizes the sales scripts in her hand, rips them to ribbons, and tosses them contemptuously on the desk. 66. She walks out without a backward glance. A tear or two leaks out from under her sunglasses. 82 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR 82 The atmosphere is massively subdued. Bea and Corey focus on their task. Ana’s empty cubicle looms between them. Adrian enters the floor. ADRIAN Sandra, you’re wanted in the manager’s office. From across the way, SANDRA looks up. SANDRA But I just made a sale... ADRIAN Doesn’t matter. Boss wants to see you. Those around her send troubled glances in her direction. Slowly, Sandra rises from her seat and follows Adrian away, pale and shaking. 83 INT. TSS OFFICE - BREAKROOM 83 A few days later.

The dwindling group of workers sit clustered together. They don’t say much as they eat their lunch. In storms stocking hat guy. He carries an antique license plate and a couple of children’s paintings. He stomps to the time clock and angrily punches out. STOCKING HAT GUY I never liked this God-forsaken place anyway! He blasts from the room, slamming the door behind him. 84 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR 84 It’s as quiet as a library. The remaining employees sit hunched over their desks. Desperation is in the air. Hoffman pokes his head out of his office. 67. HOFFMAN Nicole, can I see you a minute? NICOLE, a smartly-dressed young woman, looks up. She sends worried glances to her co-workers as she stands and bustles to Hoffman’s office. On her hand is an engagement ring. As she disappears inside, Hoffman pulls the blinds on his office window. 85 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR - 30 MINUTES LATER 85 Nicole emerges from Hoffman’s offices looking a little uneasy. Her clothes are rumpled. She moves with stilted gait to her desk and proceeds to gather her things. Finished, she moves past Bea’s desk. Bea stretches out a comforting hand. BEA I’m so sorry, dear. NICOLE For what? BEA You were very good at your job. You didn’t deserve to be fired. Beat. NICOLE (carefully) Char -- Hoffman didn’t fire me. He promoted me. (and) I’m his secretary. Walks away. Bea watches her with an astonished gaze. 86 INT.

JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN - MORNING 86 An air of fear pervades. Bea hastily scarfs down her English muffins and some orange juice. Off to the side, her cross- word puzzle lays dusty and forgotten. Finished, Bea hurries away, her face pinched with anxiety. 68. 87 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR 87 The feeling of anxiety has only increased. The size of the workforce has been cut in half. Adrian paces along rows of empty cubicles on her patrol. On Bea’s desk lies a list of names, most crossed off with angry, jabbing lines. She sits on a call, an exhausted look on her face. BEA What’s a good time for our specialists to come around? (quick beat) Never? (pressing on) Okay, sir, I understand that as a homeowner you probably get numerous calls like this, but -- what’s that? ASSHOLE (V.O.) I hope you get cancer and die a slow and painful death! BEA (voice quivering) I’ll take you off our list right away. Thank you for your time. Hangs up and slashes a pen line through the latest name on the list. At that moment, Hoffman appears on the sales floor. HOFFMAN Bea Jensen! I need you in my office. Slowly, Bea looks up like a deer in the headlights. Terry, concerned, mouths “Good luck” as Bea passes by her cubicle. Bea gives a wan smile. 88 INT. TSS OFFICE - SALES FLOOR - LATER 88 Bea emerges from Charles’ office, walking like a person in shock.

She looks around the sales floor, as though she were in a dream. Slowly, she approaches her cubicle and shuffles some papers into her purse. In a burst of frustration, she seizes the list of contacts, crumples it violently, and chucks it away. 69. Then, with a last look around, she leaves the place. Her chin quivers with repressed tears. 89 INT. JENSEN HOME - DINING ROOM 89 Bea enters, weary and forlorn. She trudges slowly to the table and collapses into a chair. Around her, the house is a yawning expanse of emptiness. 90 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN - NEXT MORNING 90 Bea stands at the counter, still in her bathrobe. A pot of coffee brews nearby. She holds a washcloth in her hand, suspended over a pile of crumbs. Almost without thinking, she drops the rag into the sink and walks away. 91 INT. JENSEN HOME - LIVING ROOM - LATER 91 The ROAR of a VACUUM. Bea propels the appliance around the room without her usual vigor. Partway through, she turns the machine off and drops onto the couch, suddenly very tired. 92 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - EVENING 92 Sunlight leaks through the curtains as Bea pulls them shut. She’s back in her bathrobe and pajamas. She shuffles to her bed and doffs her robe, moving stiffly, as though she were made of wood. With a sigh she falls back against her cushions and drives her eyes shut. 93 INT.

atop a towering stack of grimy, cruddy dishes and shuffles to the refrigerator. It’s basically empty. This wakes Bea somewhat from her stupor. With a tsk of her tongue, she firmly shuts the fridge door. She reaches up and almost absently feels of her hair. She drops her arms, looks about her, sticks her hands on her hips. BEA Well. Abruptly, she leaves the room. 71. 97 INT. JENSEN HOME - BATHROOM 97 The fluorescent bulbs overhead bathe everything in a garish, ugly light. Bea peers at herself in the mirror, examining the purple bags under her eyes, the wrinkles. Something catches her eye. It’s the little hour-glass of Bob’s, tucked behind the soap dispenser. Carefully, Bea extracts the object from its hiding place. She feels of it, examines every inch of it. A tear trickles down her cheek. 98 INT. JENSEN GARAGE - A SHORT TIME LATER 98 Bea strides to her car, showered and presentable. Her course brings her past Bob’s work bench. She pauses and stares at it. Reaching out a tentative hand, she brushes her fingers across the head of a ball peen hammer. Suddenly, she bursts into tears. It’s some moments before she can compose herself enough to climb into the car. 99 INT. CHURCH SANCTUARY 99 The soaring worship hall is absolutely, starkly empty, save for Bea kneeling in a pew near the front. She looks very small and very isolated in the grandeur around her.

Before her stands a statue of the Virgin Mary. Her eyes red with recently-shed tears, Bea looks at the effigy. BEA (imploring) Is it too much to ask? I just want some peace. Her words echo softly, eerily through the hollow sanctuary. One beat. Two. BEA (CONT’D) (softly) I thought so. She heaves herself out of the pew, knees stiff from kneeling. Her HEELS CLICK loudly on the wooden floor as she makes her exit. 72. 100 I/E. TOWN CAR - INTERSECTION - AFTERNOON (MOS) 100 The world seems strangely washed of sensation. While stopped at a light, Bea looks out the window. The sidewalks and roadways appear overpopulated with businesspeople on phones, bearing coffee, rushing, purposeful. Bea sits huddled inside her car. Alone. A tear or two leaks out and makes its slow way down her cheek. 101 EXT. TOWN CAR - INTERSECTION 101 Amidst a sea of steaming, shimmering vehicles, Town car seems small and alone. Different, somehow. The lights change. The traffic starts to move. But Town car remains stationary. 102 I/E. TOWN CAR - SAME 102 A cacophony of HONKING HORNS pulls Bea from her daze. With a jump, she realizes that the light is almost counted down to yellow. She presses the gas harder than necessary and the car shoots forward. Bea’s hands tremble as they clutch the steering wheel, fraught with emotion. 103 INT. JENSEN GARAGE 103 Tears stream from Bea’s eyes as she pulls in. Her vision is

so obstructed that she turns a little short and clips off her side mirror. 104 I/E. TOWN CAR 104 This is more than she can bear. She presses the garage opener button and collapses into tears. 105 INT. JENSEN GARAGE 105 The door glides shut. The car is still running. A shadow passes overhead. 73. 106 INT. JENSEN HOME - BATHROOM 106 Bea looks at her reflection in the mirror, her face collapsing into an expression of indescribable sadness. A single tear trickles down her cheek; she swipes it roughly away and turns on the faucet. Still arranged precisely on the counter as though he might return any moment are Bob’s toiletries: tooth brush, floss, comb, razor, after shave. 107 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM 107 The light from a lone lamp reveals Bob’s side of the room, still quite in order. Bea looks around dismally as she sits down. A moment later, she swings her feet up onto the bed and turns out the light. 108 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM 108 Dark. Bea sleeps heavily but fitfully. Beat. Then, as if from the depths of a cave: BOB (O.S.) Honeybee. With a gasp and a start, Bea bursts awake and flies upright. Her eyes scan the room, but not contented with its emptiness, she FLICKS on the LAMP. There, in a chair in the corner of the room, sits -- Bob. Or at least, what’s left of him. His skin looks mummified, leathery, a sickly yellow hue.

Ligaments and muscles are clearly visible. His eyes are black and hollow. He smiles, a gaping, sprawling smile. BOB (CONT’D) I missed you, Honeybee. Bea stares, petrified. Beat. Bob frowns. 74. BEA No, no, no. You can’t be here. You left me. Bob rises and approaches the bed. Bea shrinks back into the cushions. BEA (CONT’D) I’m dreaming. Right? I must be, because you can’t be here, you’re dead, and I’m alone -- A few droplets leak from the corners of her eyes. Bob sits on the edge of the bed and watches her, concern written on his grotesque features. At last, he places a hand softly on Bea’s knee. Bea looks up and meets his eyes. All of a sudden, she bursts into tears, her face falling into her palms. Bob instantly takes her hand and watches her intently. A moment passes until Bea is collected enough to enunciate. BEA (CONT’D) It’s just.... I don’t even care if you’re real. A weepy smile. The floodgates burst anew. BEA (CONT’D) (sort of coherent) I think that makes me crazy. Bob places his hand softly on Bea’s chin and looks tenderly into her eyes. BOB Beatrice, you are many things, but you are not crazy. BEA I guess that Dr. Culver is a quack, huh? Beat. The two break into hysterical laughter, the sort that makes your chest sore and leaves you gasping for air. At last, it ends. And just like that, the little Dutch boy’s thumb is pulled

from the dam. 75. Hiccupping sobs erupt from Bea’s chest, all those months of anxiety releasing themselves at once. Bob frowns with concern. Gently, so gently, he brushes aside the teardrops. At last: BEA (CONT’D) I was so lonely, Bob. (and) But it didn’t help. It just.... it was a leaky Band-Aid, bound to fall off sometime. BOB Well, that’s all over now, Honeybee. Bea sniffs and nods, attempting to compose herself. BOB (CONT’D) And besides -- Holds up the list -- the list that Bea had thrown away, its crumples somewhat smoothed. Bea glances up at the list, freezes, stares. BOB (CONT’D) -- we’ve got work to do. Bea still stares, silent. BOB (CONT’D) (with controlled menace) No one talks to my Honeybee like that. There’s a moment of silence. Then: Slowly, with the embers of his passion glimmering just beneath the surface, he rises. BOB (CONT’D) (gently) It’s been a long day. Why don’t you lie down -- sleep, if you can. He walks, bent and old, back toward the chair. As he sinks slowly back into the shadows: 76. BOB (CONT’D) We’ll talk more about this in the morning. Now he’s completely obscured in darkness, except for the glint of lamp light on his eyes. After a moment, Bea settles back down into the bed and switches off the lamp. She doesn’t sleep. 109 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - MORNING 109 The blinds wave lazily in the early breeze, sending bars of

light dancing over the bed. Bea lies amidst a mass of twisted sheets in a half-awake, dreamlike state. As if from afar, the SHUNK! of the TOASTER as it ejects some variety of morning pastry. 110 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN - SAME 110 Two halves of an English muffin, perfectly toasted and slathered with strawberry jam, rest on a plate. At the head of the place setting, a chilled glass of orange juice. Beside the setting, a Sudoku puzzle and pencil. A small bowl of vanilla yogurt, pomegranate seeds shining like rubies in the morning light. Their juice streaks the yogurt red. 111 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM 111 The CLANKING of DISHES reaches Bea’s ears. All at once, she’s alert. In a moment, she’s leapt from the bed, yanked on her robe, and thrust her feet into her slippers. Thus attired, she dashes from the room. 112 INT. JENSEN HOME - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS 112 Bea rushes through the door -- -- and stops short. There, arranged the way Bob did every morning, her table setting. Bea gapes. A gentle breeze rustles the curtains at the kitchen window. 77. BOB (O.S.) You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you? Bea trundles, zombie-like, to her chair and seats herself, still staring. After a moment, she begins lifting her glass of orange juice. CLOSE ON BOB As he raises a steaming coffee mug to his lips and takes a generous quaff. The muscles of his esophagus can clearly be

seen dilating as the liquid makes its way down his throat. BACK TO SCENE Bea sets her glass down carefully. Her gaze flicks to the yogurt, then slides to the English muffin. The jam sparkles brightly, a rich red. Beside the plate is a knife. As if obeying a silent command, Bea acts. Slowly, she takes the knife in her hand and slices through the muffin. The jam sticks to the blade, clumped and slippery. She takes a few nibbles, then spies the piece of paper. BEA What is that? Bob’s withered hand slides the paper from view. BOB We have a lot of work to do, Bea. Bea shakes her head a little, a quizzical expression on her face. BEA Oh, Bob, I don’t -- BOB But first, how about a little fun? CLOSE ON BOB’S FACE And the jaunty, boyish grin residing there. 78. CLOSE ON BEA’S OWN BROAD SMILE His mood is infectious; Bea can’t help but follow along, giggling like a young girl. 113 I/E. RV 113 DRIVING LESSON - MONTAGE There are a couple instances of mild hilarity: Bea’s feet don’t initially reach the pedals; she presses the gas without shifting out of park. INSERT - BOB’S HAND ON THE GEAR LEVER She hits the garage door. And the mailbox. And the neighbor’s mailbox. And the neighbor’s dog... almost. She also takes out an entire row of curb-side garbage cans. Bob has a field day with all of this. Bea does not.

Occasionally, Bob’s image can be caught in a reflective surface, but fleetingly, only. INSERT - BOB’S HAND ADJUSTING THE MIRRORS A few lessons about mirrors and corners -- which is when some decorative hedges nearly get destroyed. Finally, Bea is able to drive rather harmlessly down a straight country road at a fairly good clip -- or it seems so, until a bicyclist cruises past. 114 INT. JENSEN HOME - BEDROOM - NIGHT 114 A pool of golden lamp light illuminates the list, which lies in full view on Bea’s bedside table. Bea herself sits up in bed, her spectacles on. Strewn around her are various maps and travel brochures. She reads an RV trip guide book, studying it very intently. BOB (O.S.) Now, are you sure you know where we’re going? BEA Yes, dear. 79. BOB (O.S.) And you followed my packing list? BEA Yes, dear. BOB (O.S.) Precisely? BEA (smiling) Yes, dear. BOB (O.S.) And the RV -- Bea flops the guide book down and looks over the rim of her spectacles in Bob’s direction. BEA The fluids have all been checked. The tires are good. The guys at shop looked over all of the parts. Everything is going to be fine. BOB (O.S.) Well good. This is important for you. I don’t want it to get blown. Bea looks back down at her book. BEA It won’t be. BOB (O.S.) Well, if you’re sure. Beat. With a yawn, Bea sets the book aside, brushes the cornucopia

of travel info off the bed, and slides under the covers. Snuggled down, she reaches up and flicks off the lamp. BEA Good night. The room is plunged into blackness. From the darkness, sounding as though it’s emanating from the depths of a dream, comes Bob’s voice: BOB (O.S.) Good night, Honeybee. 80. 115 I/E. JENSEN GARAGE - MORNING 115 The overhead door is flung open wide, admitting the morning with all of its glorious brightness. The compartments of the RV are open, in varying stages of fullness. In comes Bea, lugging a tub full of food. She disappears inside the RV. Sounds of CLANKING and various DOORS SHUTTING can be heard. After a few prolonged moments of this, she exits and strides back to the house. 116 PACKING THE RV - MONTAGE 116 Bea brings out two or three more loads, each one quite heavy and burdensome. It seems as though she’s preparing for a long journey. 117 I/E. RV - LATER 117 At last. With a smile of accomplishment, Bea hops up into the driver’s seat and pulls the SEAT BELT across her lap. It finds home with a satisfying CLICK. Bea checks her mirrors carefully, methodically. She adjusts the rearview mirror and meets Bob’s eyes in the reflection. She smiles; he smiles back. She consults the list one more time, glances at an atlas, then shifts into gear. One big exhale.... And the RV starts forward. Bea places the list on the floor beside her seat.

The first entry is: AN ADDRESS IN NEW JERSEY, AND THE NAME MARION CRANE. 118 EXT. RV PARK - DAY 118 It’s like the Suburbia Great Migration: row upon row of nearly identical RVs are parked, glittering in the sun like over-priced jewels. Some have astro turf and stupid tiny white fences. Others boast canopies unfurled over verandas with grills and tiki torches or Chinese lanterns. One or two sites even have plastic flamingos. Makeshift clothes lines abound. 81. Dogs bark; kids play in the street, heedless of traffic. Everywhere, beers are cracked, boom boxes are bumping, and lawn chairs are occupied by lazy and relaxing humanoids. The Jensen RV pulls into this bustling village, maneuvering warily and quite inexpertly around the various obstacles and turns in the way. Approaching one particularly tight corner: BOB (O.S.) Swing wide, swing wide, swing wide... It’s too late. An unwitting plastic flamingo is caught in the RV’s wake and basically decimated. Quick beat. BOB (O.S.) (CONT’D) You have to take the corners wide. An irate man comes barreling from his parked mobile palace, wearing nothing but CARGO SHORTS and brandishing a can of cheap beer. CARGO SHORTS Hey! Watch where you’re going! You hafta pay for that! TIRES SQUEAL and the ENGINE THROBS as the RV lurches forward. CARGO SHORTS (CONT’D) Get back here! (then) I got your plates! Imma find you! The RV leaves Cargo Shorts in the dust. Now raging mad, the man chucks his beer after the monstrous vehicle, seething.

119 EXT. RV PARK - JENSEN SITE 119 Bea emerges from the RV, stiff and rickety from sitting so long. She stretches, long and luxurious. Then she hefts her purse in her hand and walks toward a nearby bus stop. 120 EXT. CAR RENTAL 120 With a GRATING SCREECH of the brakes and a HISS of the AIR SHOCKS, the bus comes to a stop. Numerous passengers, Bea included, disembark and walk toward the building. 82. 121 INT. CAR RENTAL - RENTAL DESK 121 With a flourish of her pen, Bea finishes signing the rental contract. The attendant passes over the keys and her driver’s license. With a smile and a wave, Bea relinquishes the attendant to the next person in line. 122 I/E. RENTAL CAR 122 It’s just your average Impala or similar, with some odd stains on the roof and a couple suspicious white patches on the back seat. But Bea only smiles and pulls from the parking lot. On the passenger seat beside her, a map of New Jersey and the list. 123 EXT. MARION CRANE’S HOUSE - LATER 123 A very generous establishment, in one of those neighborhoods that tries to pretend it’s in the country but doesn’t really fool anyone. The Crane residence is on the “outskirts”. The Crane home is skirted by several impeccably-pruned shrubs, and the large front door is adorned by an imposing set of steps. Bea mounts these steps in an easy manner. Her hand dips just inside her purse.

Resting softly in her ensconced hand is... The butt of a pistol. Bea lifts her free hand and knocks. Beat. Some SHUFFLING from within, and then MARION CRANE opens the door. She’s an elegant woman, clad in yoga pants and a cardigan. BEA Marion Crane? MARION Yes? Who’s asking? BEA I’m Beatrice Jensen, from Thanatos Security Systems. May I have a moment of your time? 83. MARION Don’t you people have any sense of decency? Begins to shut the door, but it’s obstructed -- -- by Bob’s rotted hand. The barrel of a gun is directed at Marion’s nose. She stops cold. BEA We insist. A moment of stalemate. Bea pushes her way into the house and slams the door behind her. 124 INT. MARION CRANE’S HOUSE - FOYER 124 A solid mahogany room encrusted with glittering crystal. Marion backs slowly away, her hands partially raised. Her eyes are wide with terror. The reflection of a shadowy figure is seen in the glass panels as it ghosts by.... BEA How does it feel when people are rude to you? Hm? MARION Are you all right, ma’am? BEA When they disregard your feelings? MARION Is there someone I can call for you? She slowly reaches back to a small table, where a phone cradle sits. She grasps the phone like a lifeline -- which it is. Bea’s eyes flick to the phone and back to Marion, sharp as a razor. BEA Hey! Gestures with the pistol. Marion pauses, her hand suspended

with indecision. 84. BEA (CONT’D) Put it back where it was. Slowly, Marion complies. BEA (CONT’D) If you do that again, I’ll shoot you. And I don’t miss. MARION All right, Ms. Jensen. Whatever you say. She steadily holds Bea’s eyes. By now, Bea is shaking. Her hand trembles at she holds the gun before her. MARION (CONT’D) Ms. Jensen -- BEA Stop talking! She brings up her other hand to steady the weapon. BOB Honeybee, I think it’s time we give her a sting. Bea turns her head in Bob’s direction. BEA Of course, dear. She closes one eye, sights down the barrel... Marion looks over to where Bob should be, a quizzical expression on her face. Her eyes dart back to Bea. She opens her mouth... The CRACK of a GUNSHOT fills the room. Marion’s teeth are broken out; the bullet crashes through the back of her head. Gore is flung in every direction. The BODY FALLS HEAVILY to the floor. Silence reigns. BOB I think that’ll do it, Honeybee. Bea smiles at him through a blood-spattered face. 85. BOB (CONT’D) Why don’t you go wait outside? I’d like to have a talk with Marion Crane. Still beaming, Bea kisses Bob on his grotesque lips, then walks from the house, perky and bright. 125 I/E. RENTAL CAR - LATER 125 Bea waits patiently in the driver’s seat. Bob returns, opens the passenger door, and slides into the seat. He tugs the list from beneath him.

Drawing a pen from his breast pocket, he crosses Marion Crane’s name from the list. Then he examines the list. He can’t quite see the words. He holds the list out in front of him, tilts his head this way and that, up and down. At last he sighs and extends the list to Bea. Pointing to an entry: BOB Honeybee, what does this say? Bea squints at the words a moment. BEA Sam Loomis, Tallahassee, Florida. Bob nods and puts the list in the glove compartment. Then he settles back in his seat. BOB I bet Florida is nice this time of year. BEA I’ve always wanted to go. BOB (looking at Bea) I know, Honeybee. He places his hand on Bea’s for a moment. They exchange a loving look. Bea twists the key in the ignition and pulls the car from the driveway. 86. 126 I/E. RV - HIGHWAY - DAY 126 The RV labors down the road in the slow lane -- going VERY slowly. So slowly, in fact, that other old people are passing Bea. But she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s got an OLDIES STATION PLAYING on the RADIO and she warbles blissfully along to something like a Frank Sinatra song. 127 EXT. SAM LOOMIS’ HOME - AFTERNOON 127 It’s all you would expect from a wealthy Tallahassee residence: long driveway, wrought iron fence, excessive pillars. A couple of stone lions guard the entrance. Bea pulls up the circular driveway. She’s driving a rented Ferrari.

128 EXT. SAM LOOMIS’ HOME - LAWN 128 Elderly SAM LOOMIS is outside, carefully trimming some ornamental bushes with a pruning shears. He looks up quizzically as Bea stops the car and steps out. As Bea is approaching: SAM LOOMIS Do I know you? His voice is frail and quavering. BEA Mr. Sam Loomis? SAM LOOMIS Yes, that’s me. BEA I’m Beatrice Jensen, from Thanatos Security Systems. I just wondered if I could have a word with you about our product line -- SAM LOOMIS Oh, for goodness sakes! Haven’t you people bothered me enough? You call the house, you call my wife, you ask for my at my son’s business -- I mean, when are you people going to get the message that I’m not interested? 87. As he speaks, Bea slowly moves onto the lawn and he follows her until they’re positioned behind the bushes, mostly hidden from view. A hint of malice glints in Bea’s eyes as Sam complains, but she keeps her face remarkably composed. When Sam has finished with his little diatribe, Bea eyes up his shears. BEA Those are very nice. Holds out her hand: BEA (CONT’D) May I? Sam hands them over almost instinctively. He’s still simmering as Bea turns the tool over in her hands, admiring the new blade as it catches the sunlight. Sam continues to blather: SAM LOOMIS Yes, they are nice. My son gave them to me for Christmas last year, not that it’s any of your business.

Straightens as much as his crooked spine will allow. SAM LOOMIS (CONT’D) You know, I wonder that your company has the manpower to send you people out like this. I can’t imagine you sell much product, the way you keep after people. You try to bully them into buying from you. It’s borderline harassment. Bea glances up at him. She’s remained calm all this while -- eerily so. BEA (lightly) It is, isn’t it? Crackling beat. Bea stares at Sam evenly, strangely. All of a sudden, it seems to dawn on him that Bea is really, really angry. 88. BEA (CONT’D) You really should have taken home security when you had the chance. SAM LOOMIS Why -- ? With a sudden movement, Bea raises the shears and brings them down, hard -- Into Sam’s neck. With a strangled shriek, he collapses. All that can be seen above the bushes is Bea’s arm as she makes frequent, furious stabs. Strangled shrieks give way to sobs, then... silence. Bea makes a couple more stabs for good measure. Then she tosses the shears to the ground. INSERT OF THE PRUNING SHEARS As they’re engulfed by a flood of sticky, crimson blood. The reflection of that shame shadowy figure passes swiftly by.... Was it really there? BACK TO SCENE Bea looks down at Sam’s body. BEA How’s that for harassment? She grins a little at her own joke. Then, looking around surreptitiously, she scurries back to the car. An instant later, the ENGINE REVS.

129 EXT. SAM LOOMIS’ HOME 129 TIRES SQUEAL as the vehicle negotiates the tight circle. The CAR ROARS from the yard. 130 EXT. NORMAN HITCH’S HOME - SOME TIME LATER 130 It’s not a sprawling home, but the Hitch family is clearly well-off. Bea strides up the front walk, throwing her gaze around. The place is quiet, serene. 89. 131 EXT. NORMAN HITCH’S HOME - FRONT DOOR 131 Bea knocks once, twice, three times. Waits. Beat. No answer. Beat tries the knob. It turns freely in her hand. She swings the door open and places one foot in the house. BEA Mr. Norman Hitch? She steps in and closes the door behind her. The shadowy figure’s reflection appears briefly in the window of the door. It disappears like a whisper. 132 INT. NORMAN HITCH’S HOME - KITCHEN 132 Clean and well-maintained. Everything is in it’s proper place, but in a loving way, not in the compulsive way that Bob used to arrange things. The low sound of a SHOWER SPURTING can be heard. From a butcher’s block extends the handle of a butcher knife. Bea spies it. BEA Mr. Hitch? She side-steps to the knife, grasps the handle, and pulls it slowly and soundlessly from its slot. BEA (CONT’D) Mr. Hitch, my name is Bea Jensen, I’m from Thanatos Security Systems. I was hoping I could have a word with you. Beat. Her request is not met with an answer. She moves deeper into the house. 133 INT.

NORMAN HITCH’S HOME - HALLWAY 133 Just outside the bathroom door, Bea stops. Takes a breath. Knocks. 90. BEA Mr. Hitch? She knocks again. Holds the butcher knife at the ready. No response. The sound of Norman’s voice is heard through the door -- he’s singing. Bea puts her hand to the door knob. This one, too, opens freely. Bea steps into the bathroom. 134 INT. NORMAN HITCH’S HOME - BATHROOM 134 At the SOUND of the DOOR closing, Norman’s singing abruptly stops. NORMAN Hello? For the moment, Bea is stricken dumb. NORMAN (CONT’D) Hello? Who’s there? Gathering her courage: BEA Mr. Hitch, I’m Bea Jensen, from Thanatos Security Systems. I was hoping to take a moment of your time to -- NORMAN Jesus -- ! Don’t you people have any respect? I’m in the shower for Christ’s sake! BEA Yes, I’m aware of that. Norman pokes his head around the curtain. He’s a middle-aged man, from what we can see, and seems to be in rather average physical condition. His face is thunderous. NORMAN Get the hell out. I don’t know who you people think you are, barging into my home and violating my privacy like this, but -- Bea’s shaking with a pent-up, frightening something. 91. BEA I think they’re the people that are trying to protect you. NORMAN (exasperated) From what? BEA People like me. Seized by a fit of manic violence, Bea raises the butcher’s knife and pounces, knocking them both behind the curtain.

There’s a struggle -- Bea prevails. Her silhouette raises the knife and brings it down, hard, with increasing force. Down, and down, and down.... Norman’s shouts of surprise morph to agonized screams, then nothing. Silence. INSERT OF THE SHOWER DRAIN As Norman’s blood trickles into it, mingled with the bath water. BACK TO SCENE Bea steps from the shower, dripping wet. There’s a METALLIC CLINK as she drops the KNIFE into the tile floor. She leaves. Beat. An invisible FINGER draws on the fogged-up mirror. SQUEAK. SQWIK. It’s a smiley face. CLOSE ON The mirror. The shadowy figure is visible in a broken reflection. She approaches the mirror. Grins broadly. 135 BEA KILLING PEOPLE - MONTAGE 135 She shoots, stabs, and strangles. 92. A.) INT. DUCT-TAPE MAN’S HOUSE - KITCHEN - AFTERNOON A person is duct-taped to a chair and left alone with the gas stove on and a candle lit. B.) EXT. DUCT-TAPE MAN’S HOUSE - DRIVEWAY As Bea drives away, there’s a massive explosion. That guy’s probably a goner. And... wait. Does the shadowy figure’s form shimmer in the smoke...? C.) INT. BLOW DRYER DUDE’S HOUSE - EVENING She pushes her way into a house. That poor guy gets electrocuted when she throws a running blow dryer into his bath. The shadowy figure’s reflection wavers in the water. D.) EXT. BACK ALLEYWAY - NIGHT A third person makes an excellent speed-bump for her RV -- about four times. Just to be sure. Bea looks

back out of one mirror. The shadowy figure uses the other. Bea crosses name after name off her list after each kill -- she’s killed young and old, upper middle class and filthy rich, from many different states. 136 EXT. FRED ASTER’S HOME 136 A nice place, though perhaps a tad small. On the front lawn is a DIY project in progress. It involves shaping metal, and a ball peen hammer lies out. Bea stops before this scene, glances at the house, and grabs the ball-peen hammer. Holding it behind her back, she approaches the front door. 137 EXT. FRED ASTER’S HOME - FRONT DOOR 137 Bea knocks once, twice, three times. Then she waits. Beat. 93. A well-cut middle-aged man in a flannel shirt and jeans answers the door. It’s the doomed FRED ASTER. He looks expectantly at Bea. FRED ASTER Can I help you? BEA Fred Aster? I’m Bea Jensen, from Thanatos Security Company -- FRED ASTER Oh. (then) You know, you guys really need to stop calling me. It’s highly unprofessional and very rude. BEA Well, Mr. Aster, we do have a job to do -- FRED ASTER Can’t you do it without this constant badgering? I mean, my god -- I’ve gotten so many calls I’ve had to block your number. Looks straight at Bea. FRED ASTER (CONT’D) What else can I do to get it through your think skulls that I don’t want your product and I never will? Honestly. BEA

Would you be interested in a sample product? FRED ASTER No. Just -- You know what, why don’t you get off my front steps. Just go. You’re not welcome here. Bea pauses, sizing him up. Fred is waiting for her to leave. She doesn’t. Instead, she picks out a spot on his head, hefts the hammer, and brings it down -- Right on his temple. 94. People at Thanatos Security Systems might have thick skulls, but Fred Aster sure doesn’t. The ball of the hammer breaks through the tissue like it’s papier-mâché. The hammer is quickly covered with blood and brains. Fred screams and staggers backward, but a few more well-placed bludgeons silence him forever. He collapses in a heap. Bea struggles to shove the entirety of his corpse inside the door. At last she succeeds. She shuts the door behind her, taking the hammer with her. A shadow flits by the door, following after Bea. 138 I/E. RV 138 Bea places the bloody ball peen on the floor of the RV and grabs the list. She crosses off the last name with an air of finality. Then she looks at Bob. BOB Well, Honeybee, you’ve done it. It’s time for you to go home. He gives Bea a look of significance. She returns it with a watery smile. 139 I/E. RV - HIGHWAY 139 The journey back home has a far different air than the start of the journey. Bea drives like she’s on auto-pilot, a musing

expression on her face. 140 INT. JENSEN GARAGE - EVENING 140 The RV backs halfway in, but it’s aimed terribly and in danger of colliding with the car. Bea pulls the RV back out and tries again, see-sawing several times. Finally she just gives up, parks the RV outside, and shuts the garage door. 141 I/E. RV - CONTINUOUS 141 With a sigh, Bea leans back in her seat, weary and drained. 95. BEA’S POV Her vision wavers and clouds with fatigue. A shadowy figure leans over her, and she hears a whispered voice, as if from afar: BOB She’s proud of you, Honeybee. Bea gives a small, sleepy smile. BOB (CONT’D) Just rest now. Bea’s eyes close, and there’s nothing but darkness.... 142 I/E. TOWN CAR - NIGHT - SOME TIME LATER 142 KNOCKING at the driver’s window jolts Bea from her slumber. With a snort, she lurches forward and blinks rapidly for several seconds. The sound of the ENGINE’S SLOW CHUGGING fills the small space. When she’s properly recovered her senses, Bea looks through the window. Bob is standing there, smiling. He’s his normal self again, with no vestiges of decay on him. He ducks down to be at Bea’s eye level. BOB Hey there, Honeybee. Opens the car door, reaches inside, and takes her hand. BOB (CONT’D) Welcome home. With a smile, Bea tightens her grip on Bob’s fingers and exits the car. Gripping each others’ hands tightly, they walk away. The

shadowy figure of Maude leads them onward into an ever- increasing ray of white light. A shower of raindrops spatters the frame. As they drip down, we slowly FADE OUT. POST CREDITS: 96. 143 INT. JENSEN GARAGE - LATER 143 The garage door is shut. All is quiet except for the SOFT HUM of a the CAR ENGINE. The door lays opens -- A female figure steps slowly around the car. One hand is held out and positioned as though it is holding the hand of another person. In her other hand is the ball peen hammer. She walks to the tool bench, grabs a rag, and wipes the hammer clean. She lifts her head, an odd, slightly manic smile on her face. It’s Ana. FADE TO BLACK.