Shadow Land
Shadow Land
INT. DUPLEX APARTMENT - L.A. - NIGHT
A sparsely-decorated Living Room. MORGAN WINTER (21, punk-femme, non-binary - she/they) is hunched over a table. Scattered Energy Drink empties. An open file folder with papers spilling out.
Morgan scans the type-written notes. Phrases jump out: “stolen” and “heirloom” and “distraught.” NAMES of PAWNSHOPS, all crossed out.
A scanned PHOTO of an antique, choker necklace. A yellow writing pad beside it. Morgan splays a palm over the photo. The other hand holds a pen hovering over the pad. Stares deeply at a fixed point across the room.
MORGAN
(whispers)
Show me where you are.
Morgan’s POV BLURS. A murky image FLOATS around her field of vision.
An ALLEY. A CHAIN-LINK FENCE. Beyond the fence, beat-up CARS in the lot. Further in, a GARAGE, double-doors locked.
Morgan draws IMAGES of the fence, the cars, and the garage.
A free-standing SIGN, floating: The words are blurry.
Morgan WRITES on the PAD: “a r v? s? ody sho?”
The IMAGES fade out.
Morgan takes a moment. Clears her vision. Stares down at the pad. Adds a few letters, to spell out: “?? Body Shop?”
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
Morgan exits a parked CAR. A beat-up model that’s seen its share of rough road. The street is quiet. Empty.
On the Corner, a small Parking Lot and an Auto Repair shop, closed. Arvin’s Body Shop on a SIGN. This doesn’t look like the “site” from her Vision.
Morgan walks around the side of the building to an --
EXT. ALLEY
Promising! Morgan walks down it. Dark. Deserted.
Comes to a Chain-Link Fence. LIGHT coming from beyond the Fence. Morgan leans in. A GARAGE thirty feet in, past cars covered in TARPS.
She pulls a small pair of BINOCULARS from her jacket pocket.
BINOCULARS P.O.V.
MEN in Oil-Stained T-shirts and Overalls work on high-end Cars - Lambos, Ferraris, Jaguars. Peering closer, the Men are not repairing the cars. They are STRIPPING them clean.
A ROTTWEILER leaps into the Frame. Throwing itself against the Fence and Morgan just behind it.
Morgan stumbles back. Drops the binoculars on the ground.
A DOBERMAN joins the Rottweiler attacking the fence. A MAN emerges from the Garage, runs toward the Dogs and the Fence.
MAN
Hey!
Morgan blindly turns in the Alley and hauls ass.
SFX: METALLIC CLANK OF FENCE OPENING
MAN (O.S.) (CONT’D)
Sic ‘em!
The SOUND of Eight Paws with sharp Claws clacking at full speed.
Morgan runs. The Dogs in Pursuit.
She rounds a corner at the end of the Alley.
EXT. SIDEWALK - CONTINUOUS
Hustles down a dimly-lit street. Looking for Escape. A place to hide.
A wooden fence. Low enough for Morgan to grab the top of it. As she scrambles up the fence, the Rottweiler lunges for a LEG. The jaws of the dog clamp onto her Doc Martens Boot. Tries to chomp through it.
Morgan kicks out with her other boot just as the Doberman catches up. The Rottweiler releases Morgan’s foot. She scrambles up and over the Fence.
EXT. VACANT LOT - CONTINUOUS
Dogs barking behind her, but safe on the other side of the Fence, Morgan keeps running at top speed. Ducks under an Overhang, finds a gate, barrels through it to --
EXT. BACKYARD - CONTINUOUS
She keeps running until she is swallowed up by the dark. The Sounds of Barking recede into the night.
EXT. NEW BACKYARD - DAWN
Sun breaking. Morgan huddled in a large hedge. Pulls herself up.
EXT. STREET - LATER
Morgan sneaks down the sidewalk. Sticking to the shadows hidden from the sun.
INT. MORGAN’S CAR - LATER
Morgan starts the car. Makes a U-Turn away from the Body Shop at the Corner. Drives off in a rush.
EXT. HALLWAY - ESTABLISHING
A solid wooden door. A brass sign at eye level: Avante Investigations
AVANTE (O.S.)
You did it again, didn’t you?
MORGAN (O.S.)
Did what?
INT. AVANTE INVESTIGATIONS - DAY
PATRICK AVANTE (late 40’s, graying) sits behind a mid-sized desk. Morgan stands opposite, still wearing the shabby clothes from the last scene. One of her boots has visible big teeth marks in it.
AVANTE
(a scolding look)
I’ve warned you about this. About your remote viewing adventures. Peeking into other people’s lives. It’s dangerous. Unpredictable and unreliable. It’s not how we do this job. No more, okay?
Morgan just stares.
AVANTE (CONT’D)
You hear me?
MORGAN
(sing-songy, eyes rolling)
Yes, Dad.
AVANTE
(stands up, stern)
I’m not your father.
(softer)
Not that I wouldn’t want... but I’m your boss. Let’s not forget that, okay?
MORGAN
Yes, sir.
AVANTE
Better.
(he sits; a pause)
And have you ever considered that it might work both ways? What if they can see you? What if they can find out where you are?
MORGAN
Who? Who would be looking for me?
A worried looks crosses his face. He quickly resumes his stern expression.
AVANTE
Never mind. It’s... just, please be careful. And stop with the --
MORGAN
Peeking. I got it.
(a look from him)
I promise.
AVANTE
Thank you.
(pause)
If this was your last real lead on the case...
Morgan turns, walks toward the door.
MORGAN
Ahead of you, boss. Already rang the client, making a house call to break the news.
AVANTE
After you go home and change!
Morgan waves as she opens the door and exits.
EXT. HOUSE - PORCH - DAY
A well-to-do suburban neighborhood. Morgan wears professional garb. Seated in a rocking chair. In front of a glass table. RITA FLEMING (late 50’s, stylish, very smiley) emerges from the house. Two glasses of lemonade on a fancy tray.
RITA
(hands Morgan a glass)
I like to refrain from conducting any business until both parties are free from the danger of being parched.
Morgan drinks the lemonade.
MORGAN
Refreshing. Thank you.
RITA
(sits, then sips)
So, is there a break in my case? I assume that’s why you’re here.
MORGAN
I’m afraid it’s the opposite. We’ve sort of run out of breaks. And we can’t in good conscience take any more of your money at this point.
RITA
I knew it was a long shot from the beginning. The insurance will cover the financial loss of the necklace, but it was really about the sentimental value for me.
(beat)
I know you did everything in your power to find it.
Morgan takes another sip. Stands to go.
RITA (CONT’D)
You’re a sweet girl. You remind me of my own daughter when she was your age. She’s passed now, but... she had the same sweet spirit I can sense you also have.
Morgan sits back down.
MORGAN
(awkward)
I’m... sorry for your... loss. Of your daughter. She... I’m sorry.
RITA
I’m very proud of who she was, up until she was taken from me. I’m sure your mother is very proud of you.
MORGAN
She, uh... my Mom, uh... passed. Like your daughter.
RITA
Oh. That’s a shame.
Takes a thoughtful, pensive sip of her lemonade.
RITA (CONT’D)
I’m sure you miss her everyday.
MORGAN
(coldness in the eyes)
Can’t say that I do.
Struggles up from the rocking chair.
MORGAN (CONT’D)
I thank you again for the lemonade. And my apologies for not being able to locate and retrieve your property. Have a good day.
Rita, mouth open, watches Morgan rush off the porch and toward the street.