Cross Roads

Cross Roads

EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

Fading from black, the sound of constant rain patters on different metals, aluminums and puddles in an urban alley. Thunder claps are paired with flashes of lightning that, for one second each, show the contents of the alley. The first lightning strike shows an alley empty of sentient life.

(fade to black after each lightning strike)

The second lightning strike illuminates the alley, showing two persons suddenly standing in formation close to the left wall of the alley.

(fade to black)

The third strike introduces two more persons to the formation. A squad of four, in tactical formation, stands to the left of the alley facing outwards to a main street that runs perpendicular to the alley.

(fade to black)

A fourth and last lightning strike shines light on a closer view of the four person squad. Member Number Two takes a half step from the shadows, eager to cross the road in front of them. Two’s movement is halted from behind by a stiff tug on the collar. It’s Member Three. They point a finger ahead, motioning to Member One, who then points upwards to a watchtower standing five stories above the alley. Two stories above all of the surrounding infrastructure.

A guard’s suite nests at the top of the tower. Provided with a two hundred seventy degree view of the city beneath it. Flawless window panes that reach from boot to crown wrap this military sky box.

INT. SKY POST - RAINING NIGHT

In the sky-booth sits a seasoned corporal. A woman who is tasked with an eighteen hour shift, rain, sleet and snow, to watch over her beloved city. She is sworn to never leave this post until relieved of duty by another officer.

On this night she is eager to be relieved. The typically patient corporal commands her post with uncontrollable anticipation tonight. International multi-platinum orchestra, William Walpole, will be in concert live on pay-per-view for one night only at 9PM EST. The show marks a ten year anniversary since the ensemble has performed together in person. The intoxicating sound of an acoustic guitar opening for a string section that mimics synth, encompassed by a river water snare drum, luls the corporal’s mind for a moment.

(lightning strikes and drowns the windows in white light)

She quickly gains her bearing. There’s a post to tend to, she reminds herself.

8:49. In six minutes, another officer will come to exchange shifts and responsibility for this watchtower. The seasoned corporal knows this from years of routine. She will check her watch seconds before the next officer buzzes the steel door entrance that lies below the tower suite. She checks for their proper credentials via camera monitor. In the time it takes for the shift change officer to walk up a flight of stairs, she is prepared to exit with no words exchanged.

8:54. A deep bass buzz-tone breaks the corporal’s concentration. She looks down to her wrist watch, looks up to the camera monitor and squinces (squinch and wince) her face at the site of the lance corporal officer who has arrived ahead of the routine schedule. He raises his credentials to the camera imitating a George Lucas introductory monologue. She is unimpressed. The sweet hums of a saxophone melody vibrate the seasoned corporal’s mind as she reads his credentials. They check out. A baritone buzztone signals the authorization of access to the security suite.

(a low rumble of thunder rolls overhead)

It takes no time for the seasoned corporal to prepare to transfer watchtower responsibility. She assesses a mental checklist and doesn’t leave her chair until all is accounted for. Beret? Check. Long coat? Check. Messenger bag? Check. The gently woven, angel hair chords of William Walpole serenading the officer’s soul once again? Check. Check? She snaps back to professional thought. But the music continues.

It’s from outside of the suite entrance! The lance corporal approaches and the swell of a rainforest inspired, flute lullaby traces his footsteps from corridor to final door.

The experienced officer grabs her physical belongings and sits stern, waiting to be relieved of duty. The lance corporal approaches. The two officers stand six feet apart face to face. They salute. The lance corporal takes the seat and control of the tower. As she’s leaving, the seasoned officer hears a live stream announcement playing from the waist of the lance corporal:

And without further, Adu… (automated laughter). Theydies and gentlethem we present to you the gift of love. The gift of life. For one night only and for the first time in ten years, this collection of souls reunites to bring you selections from across the golden path which lie behind them. Tonight...we give you...William Walpole. Live!

She turns around to direct her heightened attention to the lance corporal. Fighting every ounce of her professional instinct, she strikes a conversation with him during the seconds of final adjustments from the orchestra. He swivels one hundred and eighty degrees with a menacingly long grin upon his face.

EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

Member Number One veers their head down and to the rear, facing the rest of the squad. They silent motion for the team to cross the road. They all file out of the alley in a double spaced, single file line.

(lightning strikes twice to illuminate the scene; once for the squad leaving the alley...and twice disappeared)