The Roundhouse
COLD OPEN BLACK. The first thing we hear is breathing. Hard. Desperate. Someone is running. ***Footsteps pound against gravel as three figures race through the darkness between abandoned railroad tracks. We don't see their faces. Only boots hitting the ground. Hands pushing through branches. Shadows moving between the trees. Behind them, the sky is still faintly orange. The last light of the day is disappearing. They don't have much time. Mara suddenly stops. Eli nearly runs straight into her. Ahead of them, through the trees, something enormous begins to take shape. An old circular brick building, almost completely swallowed by overgrowth. Its roof has partially collapsed. Tall black windows stare out from the darkness. And rising above the roofline is an enormous rusted metal framework. An old railroad turntable. Mara knows what this place is. She doesn't explain. She simply starts running toward it. Eli calls after her. “Mara!” She doesn't stop. Behind them, something moves through the trees. They hear it. They don't look back. **They run faster. --- THE RAIL YARD — DUSK **They cross the abandoned tracks and finally reach the building. Now they can see it clearly. An old railroad roundhouse. Dozens of enormous doors curve around the circular structure. Some hang crooked on their hinges. Others are sealed shut with decades of rust. Dead locomotives sit on the old tracks, their metal bodies being slowly consumed by vines and trees. Nature has begun reclaiming the entire place. A faded sign still hangs above one of the entrances. AUTHORIZED RAIL PERSONNEL ONLY. Mara slows down. But she isn't looking at the doors. She's studying the building itself. The roof. The drainage. The walls. The old service markings. Every detail. Mara has always been good at finding the things other people overlook. And right now, they need somewhere the thing behind them won't find them. Eli looks toward the horizon. The last sunlight is almost gone. “How long?” Mara doesn't answer. She simply points toward the far side of the building. And they move. --- THE HIDDEN ENTRANCE Behind a wall of weeds, Mara finds a small metal door. She brushes the dirt away. Beneath the grime is an old railroad emblem. She tries the handle. Locked. Mara studies the hinges. Then the wall beside the door. She notices a small recessed panel. She opens it. Inside is an old manual release. Mara grips it and pulls. Nothing happens. She pulls harder. Then— CLUNK. The lock releases. Eli looks at her. Beyond the door is nothing but darkness. Mara switches on her flashlight. The beam cuts through the darkness and reveals a narrow service corridor. Pipes run along the ceiling. Electrical conduits disappear into the walls. Old maintenance signs hang crookedly from the concrete. BOILER ROOM. INSPECTION PIT. CREW ACCESS. Mara listens. Nothing. She looks back toward the tracks. The forest. The dying light. Whatever is hunting them is getting closer. There isn't time to find somewhere better. Mara turns to the others. “Hurry. Get inside.” They disappear through the door. --- INSIDE THE ROUNDHOUSE — NIGHT The door closes behind them. CLANG. Darkness. Mara's flashlight moves slowly through the corridor. Dust hangs in the air. The beam passes over old signs and rusted pipes until finally— the corridor opens. And the three of them step into something enormous. The flashlight rises. Higher. And higher. Until the beam disappears into darkness. They are inside the roundhouse. The ceiling must be forty feet above them. Massive wooden beams stretch across the structure. Old train bays curve around the enormous circular building. Rusting locomotives sit silently on their tracks. The old turntable occupies the center. Everything is still. Everything is dead. It feels less like an abandoned building... and more like a dead city. Eli looks around. “We have to hide.” Mara doesn't answer. She's looking at the floor. Old tracks disappear beneath their feet. Beside them are deep inspection pits. Black openings beneath the locomotives. Places workers once used to repair trains. Places where something else could be hiding now. Mara looks upward. Old offices overlook the roundhouse. Then she notices something. A small maintenance platform hidden behind one of the locomotive bays. A narrow steel staircase leads to it. And behind the platform hangs a row of enormous canvas curtains. Thick. Dust-covered. Still smelling faintly of grease and oil. Mara approaches one and pulls it aside. Behind it is a narrow maintenance cavity between the outer wall and the train bay. Barely visible. Barely large enough for three people. But completely hidden. Mara looks at the others. “If we stay behind this, they won't be able to smell us.” Eli looks inside. “You think we'll fit?” Mara looks at all three of them. “We have to.” Then a sound comes from outside. Not close. But closer than before. Mara immediately drops the curtain back into place. “Now.” --- THE HIDING PLACE The three of them squeeze into the narrow space. Mara pulls the heavy canvas curtain closed. Darkness. Complete darkness. They're pressed together between the outer wall and the old curtain. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks. Mara raises one finger. Silence. Then, for just a moment, her flashlight catches the face of the third member of their group. Jack. Young. Exhausted. Terrified. As Jack adjusts their sleeve, something becomes visible on the inside of their wrist. A small black compass. One of its needles is broken. Eli notices it. “What's that?” Jack looks down at the tattoo. For a moment, their expression changes. “My brother gave it to me.” Eli looks at the broken compass. “Why a broken compass?” Jack gives a faint smile. Almost sad. “He said I never could find my way home anyway.” The smile disappears. Because outside— CRUNCH. A footstep on gravel. Jack's expression changes instantly. Mara points into the darkness. Silence. --- THE HUNT Another footstep. CRUNCH. Closer. The footsteps enter the roundhouse. Mara slowly looks through the tiniest gap in the canvas. Her eye catches a sliver of light. Nothing. Only darkness. Then something passes between the old locomotives. They don't see the creature. Only its shadow. It moves behind the train cars. Then stops. It is listening. Eli's breathing becomes faster. Mara reaches over and covers his mouth. Don't. Jack begins to tremble. A tiny sound escapes them. Mara immediately raises one finger to her lips. Be silent. Then something happens directly outside the curtain. A slow inhale. Long. Deep. Animalistic. Something is smelling the air. Everyone freezes. Another inhale. The creature moves closer. Slowly. A shadow crosses the floor. Then stops. Right outside the curtain. Mara watches through the gap. She can see the bottom of something standing there. Only the feet. Long. Deformed. Wrong. She doesn't look any higher. She doesn't want to know what they belong to. Jack's eyes fill with tears. Mara presses her hand tighter against their mouth. The thing bends slightly. Its shadow changes. It's searching. Eli grips Mara's wrist. Another long sniff. And then— CLANG. A loud metallic sound echoes from somewhere across the roundhouse. The creature turns toward it. The footsteps move away. Slowly. As it walks, the sound changes. Squelch. Squelch. Its feet are moving through something wet. Mara doesn't move. Neither does Eli. Jack remains completely still. The footsteps stop. Then another metallic sound echoes through the building. The old turntable shifts. Just slightly. The entire building groans. The creature begins moving again. Only this time— it's moving faster. Something crashes. A loud BANG echoes across the roundhouse. A metal toolbox flies across the floor. Another crash. Then silence. Mara looks through the gap. Nothing. She waits. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Still nothing. Then— something moves above them. A scratching sound. Mara slowly looks upward. Dust falls onto her face. The scratching moves directly across the ceiling. Another scratch. Then another. Something is crawling above them. Right above them. A small amount of dust falls through a gap in the roof. Mara stops breathing. The creature is above them. Then comes a low, wheezing growl. Only for a second. And then— it moves away. --- THE WAIT Time passes. The three remain hidden. Nobody speaks. Nobody dares to move. The darkness becomes almost absolute. Eventually, Jack's eyes begin to close. They fight it. Mara notices. She quietly shakes her head. Stay awake. Jack nods. But exhaustion is stronger. Their head slowly drops against the wall. Eli watches them. Mara watches the roundhouse through the tiny gap in the canvas. The creature is gone. For now. Jack is asleep. And the two remaining awake stay completely still. Waiting. Listening. Hoping morning comes before the thing returns. --- FLASHBACK — YEARS EARLIER Mara remains awake. Her eyes stare through the tiny opening in the canvas. The old locomotives sit motionless in the darkness. Something about this place feels familiar. Not the building itself. Something deeper. A memory. A place she hasn't thought about in years. Her eyes slowly close. And the darkness changes. --- COUNTY ROAD — YEARS EARLIER Summer. The world is still normal. Cars move along the highway. Birds call from the trees. Insects buzz in the heat. Wind moves through the grass. Mara is younger. She's standing beside a county maintenance truck wearing a reflective work vest. A clipboard is tucked beneath one arm. She's inspecting an old railroad bridge. A coworker stands beside her. “You sure this is the one?” Mara looks down at the plans. “Bridge twenty-seven.” She points beneath the bridge. “There's an old service tunnel underneath.” Her coworker looks confused. “Why would there be a tunnel?” Mara starts walking. “Rail crews used it for drainage and maintenance.” Then her phone rings. She stops. Answers it. “Hello?” Nothing. Mara looks at the screen. No caller ID. She hangs up. The phone rings again. Same number. Mara answers. “Hello?” This time she hears something. Breathing. Very faint. A man. Then a whisper. “Can you hear me?” Mara looks around. “Who is this?” Silence. Then— “Don't let them see you.” The call ends. Mara stares at the phone. Her coworker looks at her. “Everything okay?” Mara hesitates. “Yeah... let's go.” She puts the phone away. But something about the call stays with her. --- THE TUNNEL Moments later, Mara walks beneath the bridge. Her flashlight sweeps across old concrete. Water stains. Rust. Graffiti. Nothing unusual. Then— a faint scratching sound. Mara stops. She listens. Nothing. She continues walking. Another scratch. This time, deeper inside the tunnel. Mara shines her flashlight into the darkness. Nothing. Then the beam catches something on the wall. Old maintenance markings cover the concrete. Except one isn't old. Someone has recently scratched three words into the wall. THEY COME AT NIGHT. Mara stares at them. Her coworker approaches. “What?” Mara points. He reads the words. Then laughs nervously. “Kids.” Mara doesn't laugh. Something moves at the far end of the tunnel. Too fast to see clearly. She raises the flashlight. Nothing. Then— a voice. Very faint. “Mara...” Her blood runs cold. She looks at her coworker. “Did you hear that?” He looks confused. “Hear what?” The voice comes again, closer. “Maaaaarrrraaa...” Mara turns toward the darkness. The flashlight flickers. Once. Twice. Then— the tunnel lights come on. Her coworker looks up. “That's weird.” He looks at the lights. “The lights shouldn't—” They suddenly go out. Complete darkness. Mara's flashlight comes back on. The beam lands on the floor. And that's when they see them. Bare footprints in the dust. They begin deep inside the tunnel. They lead toward Mara. Closer. And closer. Until they stop directly in front of her. Her coworker sees them. His smile disappears. “Mara... what...” Something is wrong. Then— a sound behind them. A slow inhale. A long sniffing sound. Mara turns. Her flashlight points into darkness. Nothing. And then, just as sunlight begins creeping into the tunnel from outside— something runs. Not toward them. Away. Fast. Its footsteps echo deeper into the tunnel. Mara looks at the footprints. Then at the darkness. She doesn't follow. --- BACK TO THE ROUNDHOUSE Mara's eyes open. The roundhouse. The canvas. The darkness. She's back. Eli is still awake. Mara looks through the canvas again. The old building creaks around them. Somewhere far away— clang. Then another. clang. Then another. clang. Mara's eyes remain fixed on the darkness. “I heard them before.” Eli looks at her. “Heard what?” Mara doesn't answer. She closes her eyes. But she doesn't sleep. Beside them, Jack is already asleep. The roundhouse becomes silent again. --- LATER Hours pass. Eventually, exhaustion finally takes Mara. Eli is already asleep. Jack sleeps between them. For a long time, nothing moves. Then— Jack's eyes open. They stare into the darkness. Something woke them. At first, they hear nothing. Then— a voice. Very faint. Somewhere out in the roundhouse. “...help...” Jack slowly sits up. They look toward Mara. She's asleep. They look toward Eli. Still asleep. The voice comes again. “Please...” It sounds human. Weak. Far away. Jack slowly pushes the canvas aside. They step into the roundhouse. They don't turn on the flashlight. They don't want the light. They whisper into the darkness. “Hello?” No answer. Jack listens. Then— “Over here...” Jack turns. They begin walking toward the voice. Slowly. Carefully. Their hand brushes against the side of an old locomotive. They can barely see. Only silhouettes. The voice comes again. Closer. “Please...” Jack stops. “Where are you?” Silence. Then— a sound behind them. A faint shuffle. Jack turns. Nothing. They take another step. The voice comes from somewhere between two old train cars. “I'm here.” Jack moves toward it. Their breathing becomes uneasy. They reach the gap. Nothing. Only darkness. They look down. Bare footprints cross the dust. Fresh. But not quite human. Then the voice speaks again. “Behind you.” Jack freezes. Slowly, they turn. Nothing. The voice comes again. But something has changed. It no longer sounds human. The words are the same. But the voice is wrong. Deep. Animalistic. “Behind you.” Jack takes one step backward. Then another. They turn toward the canvas. Toward Mara and Eli. They start walking back. Faster now. Then— something moves behind them. Jack stops. We don't see what they see. We only see their face. Their eyes widen. Their mouth opens. But no scream comes. Something grabs them from behind. They are pulled backward. Instantly. Violently. Silently. Their feet leave the ground. Their hand reaches forward. Fingers grasping at empty air. The tattoo on their wrist catches the faintest sliver of moonlight. The black compass. The broken needle. Their fingers disappear into the darkness. The last thing visible is the tattooed hand sliding across the concrete floor. And then— nothing. Jack is gone. No scream. No struggle. No sound. The roundhouse becomes completely still again. --- DAWN Gray light begins creeping through the broken windows high above the roundhouse. Mara wakes. Her eyes open slowly. She looks toward Eli. He's asleep. Then she looks toward Jack. Nothing. Mara blinks. She reaches over. Touches the empty space. Her eyes widen. Eli wakes. Mara looks at him. She doesn't say anything. She simply points. Jack is gone. --- THE SEARCH Mara slowly moves the canvas curtain aside. Gray morning light cuts through the broken windows. Dust floats through the beams. In daylight, the roundhouse looks different. But only partially. Huge portions of the building remain swallowed in darkness. Mara steps out. Eli follows. Neither speaks. They look around. No Jack. Mara scans the floor. Nothing. Then— a distant clang. Deep inside the building. They freeze. Another rattling sound echoes from farther away. Mara looks toward the main doors. Daylight. Freedom. Then she looks back toward the darkness. They need to find Jack. Mara starts moving. Eli follows. They move quietly between the dead locomotives. “Stay close,” Eli whispers. They reach the central turntable. Morning light is stronger here. The huge doors are only fifty yards away. They can see the outside. They can almost feel the morning air. Eli looks back toward the darkness. “We need to go.” Mara nods. They start toward the doors. Then— a wet, scraping crunch comes from behind them. They stop. Silence. Mara slowly turns. Nothing. Only the dark rows of locomotives. Eli whispers her name. “Mara...” She looks. Nothing. Then— something moves. Not the creature. Not all of it. Just a hand. A pale hand slowly appears from behind one of the locomotives. It grips the edge. For a moment, it remains there. Then— it disappears. Mara grabs Eli. “Run.” They sprint toward the light. Ten yards. Five. They're almost outside. Then a sound comes from behind them. Not footsteps. Something dragging across the floor. A long scrape of flesh against concrete. They don't look back. They're almost outside. And then— Mara hears something. A familiar voice. Weak. Barely audible. “Mara...” She stops. Eli stops with her. They turn. The roundhouse behind them is dark. Nothing moves. Then— an arm appears from the darkness. Jack's arm. The tattoo is clearly visible. The black compass. The broken needle. The arm is being dragged backward into the darkness. Mara's face changes. “No.” She starts toward it. Eli grabs her. “Mara!” The arm disappears. Completely. Silence. Mara stares into the darkness. Then— something moves behind the locomotive. Just barely. A shape rises. We don't see its face. We don't see its entire body. Only a portion of it. It slowly turns. And looks directly toward them. Mara freezes. The creature doesn't chase them. It doesn't attack. It simply watches. Then— its head tilts slightly. Almost like a curious animal studying something it has never seen before. Mara grabs Eli. They run. Out into the morning light. The camera remains behind. The roundhouse stays dark. The creature's shape is barely visible among the shadows. Watching. Waiting. And as the screen fades to black— we are left with one final thought: They made it out of the roundhouse. But something followed them into the light. CUT TO BLACK.
CHARACTERS
Eli
protagonist
Jack
narrator
Dale
supporting
Mara
supporting
PAGE 1
Panel 1:Black panel. Absolute darkness. Two lines of hard, ragged breathing rendered as white sound-effect text: 'HHH—' and 'HHH—' stacked in the void. Nothing else visible.
Narrator:“Somewhere in the dark. Running.”
Panel 2:Wide low-angle shot: a rusted chain-link fence tears apart as Mara bursts through first, olive field jacket snagging on wire. Behind her, Eli's tall broad-shouldered silhouette ducks through the gap. Jack squeezes last, torn shirt catching, face tight with exertion. Overgrown rail tracks stretch ahead into the dusk. Dead, leafless trees frame the sides. The sky is deep bruised orange fading to purple at the top.
Panel 3:Medium shot from behind the three as they sprint along a weed-split rail line. Ahead in the middle distance, the dark curved silhouette of the roundhouse rises above the treeline — a massive circular brick structure, its high arched windows black. Mara leads, arms pumping. Eli is a half-step behind. Jack runs further back, arms crossed tight to his chest.
Panel 4:Close-up on the treeline behind them: branches shudder and part in a line, left to right, as if something large is moving through at speed — but nothing is visible except the motion of displaced branches and a single dark shape, too large for a bird, dropping out of frame.
Panel 5:Close-up on Mara's face in three-quarter profile as she runs: sweat on her temple, gray-green eyes cutting sideways toward the trees. Her jaw is set hard. Ahead of her gaze, just visible at the panel edge, the curved brick wall of the roundhouse emerges from the overgrowth — its arched silhouette unmistakable.
“Mara: There. The roundhouse. Don't stop.”
PAGE 2
Panel 1:Establishing wide shot: the roundhouse fills the frame — a massive curved brick building, at least forty feet high, with a dozen tall arched bay doors, most sealed with corroded iron shutters. Ivy and dead vines consume the lower third of the walls. A rusted metal sign hangs at an angle above the central bay. Several dead locomotive shapes are visible through a gap in one partially-open shutter. The sky above is deep indigo. Mara, Eli, and Jack stand at the base of the building catching their breath, dwarfed by the structure.
Narrator:“The Harwick Rail Roundhouse. Abandoned 1987.”
Panel 2:Medium shot: Eli stands with one hand flat on the brick wall, studying the sealed bay doors — iron shutters with corroded padlocks and chains. He tilts his head up, tracing the roofline with his eyes. His dark wool jacket is dark with sweat at the collar.
“Eli: Doors are sealed. All of them. Roof's got gaps, but we can't climb that in the dark.”
Panel 3:Medium shot: Jack crouches beside a drainage channel running along the base of the wall — a concrete gutter clogged with dead leaves and rust-stained water. Jack peers into it, then looks up at Mara with wide, quick eyes. Arms still crossed over the torn shirt.
“Jack: Drainage runs under the wall. Too narrow. Could a person even fit?”
Panel 4:Close-up on a faded service marking stenciled in white paint on the brick: a railroad emblem — a stylized wheel — and below it, stenciled block letters reading 'SERVICE ACCESS — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL.' The paint is cracked and peeling but legible.
Panel 5:Medium shot: Eli turns to look at the sky behind them — the treeline is now almost fully dark, the orange completely gone. His expression is controlled but his jaw is tight. He speaks without turning to face Mara.
“Eli: Last light is gone, Mara. We need a way in. Right now.”
Panel 6:Medium shot: Mara steps away from the group along the curved wall, moving toward the far side of the building. She points without looking back, her finger aimed along the curve of the wall. Her voice is flat and certain.
“Mara: Far side. Service access always runs on the far side. Stay close.”
PAGE 3
Panel 1:Wide shot: the far side of the roundhouse — even more overgrown here, weeds waist-high against the wall. Mara pushes through the growth ahead of the others. The curve of the brick wall is visible behind the vegetation. A small rectangular metal door, almost entirely concealed behind a curtain of dead vines, is barely visible at the edge of the panel.
Panel 2:Close-up: Mara's hands pull dead vines aside to reveal the small service door. It is iron, heavily rusted, with a recessed handle and the same railroad wheel emblem — a small stamped metal plate — centered above the handle. A hairline gap runs around the door frame.
“Mara: Here. Service door.”
Panel 3:Medium shot: Mara crouches, fingers working at the recessed handle — a metal lever sunk into the door face. She pushes it sideways with both thumbs while Eli looms behind her, watching over her shoulder. Jack stands further back, facing the trees, arms wrapped around his own torso.
“Eli: Manual release. You sure it still works? Mara: It'll work.”
Panel 4:Insert panel: extreme close-up on the recessed lever as Mara's thumb forces it. A sound-effect burst beside it: 'CLNK.' The lever moves. Rust flakes fall.
Panel 5:Wide shot from inside the door looking out: the door swings inward into darkness. Mara's silhouette fills the frame, backlit by the faint night sky. Behind her, Eli ducks to fit through the low frame. Jack glances back over his shoulder at the treeline — the trees are a solid black wall. One branch moves. Just one.
“Mara: In. Now. Jack: Something's in the trees.”
Panel 6:Medium shot from inside: the iron door swings shut. Mara's hands pull it closed from inside. In the last sliver of outside visible through the closing gap — trees, darkness, and a tall upright shape standing at the treeline. Humanlike. Still. The door closes. 'CLANG.'
PAGE 4
Panel 1:Establishing wide shot: the interior of the roundhouse — an enormous circular space, cathedral-high ceiling with broken skylights letting in faint moonlight in vertical columns. Dead locomotives fill the bays like sleeping animals, their dark hulks rusted and silent. Between them, the inspection pits are open trenches in the concrete floor, three feet deep, dark with pooled water. A central turntable platform dominates the middle of the floor — a massive iron disc, seized and rusted in place. A maintenance walkway runs along the upper wall, accessible by iron stairs. The three figures stand near the service door, tiny against the scale.
Narrator:“Thirty locomotives. None of them going anywhere.”
Panel 2:Medium shot: Jack stands at the edge of an inspection pit, looking down into the dark water below. His reflection stares back. Jack's expression is unreadable — sharp features, tired eyes.
“Jack: How long has this place been empty? Eli: Thirty years. Maybe more.”
Panel 3:Medium shot: Mara moves purposefully between two locomotive hulks, running one hand along the rusted flank of the nearest engine as she scans the space ahead. Her flashlight cuts a narrow beam through the dark. She spots something at the far wall — heavy canvas curtains, industrial-weight, hanging from a ceiling track, covering what appears to be a recessed maintenance area.
“Mara: There. That alcove behind the curtains.”
Panel 4:Close-up: Mara pulls back one edge of the heavy canvas curtain. Behind it is a narrow cavity — perhaps five feet wide, eight feet deep, formed between the rear wall and a concrete equipment housing. Old maintenance tools hang on wall hooks. The floor is dry concrete. It is tight but enclosed on three sides.
“Eli: That's barely a closet. Mara: It's got three walls and a curtain. That's enough.”
Panel 5:Wide shot: Mara faces Eli and Jack, one hand still holding the curtain edge open. Her expression is firm and direct. Eli's arms are crossed, studying the space. Jack looks between them both, waiting.
“Mara: Best cover in this building. We're not exposed on any side. Then we stay quiet and we don't move. Jack: What if it checks in here?”
PAGE 5
Panel 1:Medium shot: all three are inside the cavity, seated or crouched on the concrete floor. The heavy canvas curtain is drawn closed in front of them. Mara sits closest to the curtain edge, back against the wall, knees up. Eli sits behind her. Jack is wedged in the far corner, arms wrapped around his knees, head back against the concrete wall. The flashlight is off. The only light is a faint line of moonlight through the curtain gap.
Panel 2:Close-up on Eli's face in near-darkness, the faint light from the curtain gap catching the side of his jaw and one deep brown eye. He is looking down at something. His expression is calm but watchful.
“Eli: Jack. Your sleeve.”
Panel 3:Insert panel: close-up on Jack's forearm in the thin moonlight. The torn sleeve of the dark long-sleeved shirt has ridden up. On the inner forearm, a tattoo: a compass rose, but the needle is snapped in the center — a broken compass, the cardinal points still visible but the needle bent and fractured. The ink is dark and clear against pale skin.
Panel 4:Medium shot: Jack looks down at the tattoo on his own arm, then back up at Eli. His expression is quiet and genuine — not sad exactly, but carrying weight. Mara watches from the curtain edge without turning her head, listening.
“Eli: Broken compass. What's the story? Jack: My brother gave it to me. Said I could never find my way home anyway.”
Panel 5:Close-up on Jack's face — a small, genuine upward curve at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile but close. His eyes are still tired.
“Jack: He wasn't wrong.”
Panel 6:Wide shot of the cavity interior — all three figures still, the curtain closed. Then: a sound-effect text at the bottom of the panel, large and deliberate: 'THUD.' A single heavy footstep, from outside the curtain. On the floor. Close.
PAGE 6
Panel 1:Medium shot inside the cavity: all three freeze simultaneously. Mara's hand moves to the curtain edge without touching it. Eli goes rigid, shoulders drawn up. Jack presses back into the corner, hands flat on the concrete wall. Everyone is holding breath.
Panel 2:Narrow vertical panel: seen through the curtain gap from inside — a sliver of the roundhouse floor and the locomotive bays beyond. A tall, distinctly humanlike shadow moves between two locomotive hulks. Upright. Two legs. Two arms. Head and shoulders. Moving slowly, deliberately. The proportions are recognizable but the posture is wrong — slightly too forward at the shoulders, the head carried too low on the neck. The face is not visible, pointed away or downward.
Panel 3:Close-up on Eli's face: his lips are pressed together, nostrils flared. His chest is moving — visibly, too fast. His eyes are fixed on the curtain.
Panel 4:Medium shot: Mara reaches back without looking and presses her palm firmly over Eli's mouth. Her eyes stay on the curtain gap. Eli's hand comes up and grips her wrist — not removing it, just holding. Both of them rigid.
Panel 5:Wide shot from outside the curtain: the heavy canvas surface fills most of the frame. The humanlike shadow has stopped directly in front of the curtain. Its feet — bare, long-toed, barely visible at the curtain hem — are planted two feet from the fabric. A long, audible inhale: sound effect text at the curtain hem, thin and deliberate: 'HHHhhhh—'
PAGE 7
Panel 1:Close-up on the bottom edge of the canvas curtain from inside: the fabric bends inward at the base as something presses against it from outside. The bend is deliberate and slow — the shape of knuckles or the bridge of a nose pressing the fabric. The curve holds for a full beat.
Panel 2:Wide shot: from deep in the roundhouse, a massive metallic groan and then a sharp reverberating CLANG — the old turntable shifts on its seized axis, iron grinding against iron. Sound-effect text across the top of the panel: 'GRNNNG—CLANG.' The curtain goes still. The pressure is gone.
Panel 3:Narrow vertical panel: the curtain gap view again. The tall humanlike figure moves away from the curtain, toward the turntable. Its gait is uneven — one shoulder lower than the other, the stride too long. Wet footfall sound effects track its path: 'slp — slp — slp.'
Panel 4:Medium shot inside the cavity: all three look up simultaneously. Above them, a scraping sound drags across the ceiling — slow, deliberate, moving directly over their position. Jack presses both hands flat to the concrete wall. Eli's eyes are locked upward. Mara does not move. Sound effect text at the top of the panel: 'skrrrkkk—'
Panel 5:Wide shot of the full roundhouse interior from above: the ceiling and maintenance walkway visible. Nothing is seen. The space is empty and silent. The scraping has stopped. Moonlight columns fall between the dead locomotives. The curtain hangs still.
Narrator:“Then nothing. Just the building settling. Just iron cooling in the dark.”
PAGE 8
Panel 1:Medium shot inside the cavity: time has passed. The three are in the same positions but the tension has shifted to exhaustion. Jack's head is drooping forward, chin toward chest. His eyes are closing. Mara sits at the curtain edge, still alert. Eli watches Jack with a calm, concerned expression.
“Eli: Jack's out.”
Panel 2:Close-up on Jack's face, eyes fully closed, head resting back against the concrete wall. His expression is slack and young-looking in sleep. The broken compass tattoo is just visible on his forearm resting across his knees.
Panel 3:Medium shot: Mara and Eli face each other across the sleeping Jack. Eli speaks quietly, leaning forward slightly. Mara's eyes are still on the curtain, not on Eli.
“Eli: Let them sleep, Mara. We need at least one of us rested. That's just math. Mara: We don't know it's gone.”
Panel 4:Close-up on Mara's face in profile, eyes forward on the curtain. A long beat. Then a small, barely perceptible exhale — the line of her jaw relaxes by a fraction. She gives a single, short nod.
“Mara: Fine. But we stay awake. Eli: Both of us. I know.”
Panel 5:Wide shot of the cavity interior: Jack asleep in the corner, Mara at the curtain edge, Eli behind her. The three of them still and quiet. The canvas curtain hangs motionless. The roundhouse beyond is silent. A distant, faint clang echoes — iron settling somewhere deep in the building. Sound effect text at panel edge: 'klng.'
Narrator:“An hour passes. Maybe more. The building breathes around them.”
PAGE 9
Panel 1:Close-up on Mara's face inside the cavity: her eyes are open but unfocused, staring at the curtain without seeing it. Her head is resting back against the wall. Her eyelids are heavy. The panel edges blur slightly at the corners, a visual indicator of the transition into memory.
Narrator:“Years earlier.”
Panel 2:Establishing wide shot: full summer daylight. A railroad bridge spans a dry riverbed — old iron trestle construction, forty feet above the rocky ground. The sky is pale blue and hot. Mara stands on the bridge walkway, younger-looking, less weathered, wearing a bright orange reflective work vest over a dark shirt, a clipboard in one hand. Beside her stands Dale — solid build, light brown hair, orange reflective vest, clipboard, relaxed posture. They are looking down at the underside of the bridge structure.
Narrator:“A railroad bridge inspection. Routine.”
Panel 3:Medium shot: Mara crouches on the bridge walkway, pointing her flashlight at a section of the lower iron framework where the bridge meets the embankment. A dark rectangular opening is visible below — the entrance to a service tunnel running beneath the bridge. Dale leans over the railing beside her, peering down.
“Dale: Service tunnel. That's on the survey? Mara: It's on mine. Probably hasn't been inspected in twenty years.”
Panel 4:Medium shot: Mara stands upright, clipboard under her arm, looking at her phone screen. The phone screen shows: NO CALLER ID. The phone is ringing — sound effect text at the panel edge: 'BRRZT BRRZT.' Mara's expression shifts from routine focus to a small, precise frown.
Panel 5:Close-up on Mara's face as she holds the phone to her ear. Her expression is attentive, then shifting toward unease. Her brow draws together. From the phone, a sound effect running across the panel bottom: 'hhh — hhh — hhh —' Breathing. Just breathing. No voice.
“Mara: Hello? Who is this?”
Panel 6:Insert panel: extreme close-up on the phone's speaker grill, the sound-effect breathing rendered as thin wavy lines emanating from it. Then, at the panel's lower edge, small printed text — the voice from the phone, rendered in a thin, irregular speech balloon as if the voice is far away and faint: 'Don't let them see you.'
Narrator:“A voice. Barely a voice.”
PAGE 10
Panel 1:Medium shot: Mara stands at the bridge railing, phone still at her ear. Her body is turned slightly away from Dale. Her free hand grips the railing hard — knuckles visible. She stares at the tunnel entrance below. The phone breathing continues.
“Mara: Don't let who see me? Say something. Who is this?”
Panel 2:Medium shot: Dale turns toward Mara, head tilted in mild curiosity. He holds his own clipboard loosely. His expression is relaxed and untroubled — he has noticed Mara's posture shift but reads it as routine.
“Dale: Everything okay? Mara: Wrong number.”
Panel 3:Close-up on Mara's hand lowering the phone from her ear. The screen is still showing NO CALLER ID. Her thumb moves to end the call. Her expression is flat and controlled, but the line of her mouth is tight.
Panel 4:Wide shot: Mara and Dale stand at the embankment below the bridge, at the entrance to the service tunnel. The tunnel mouth is a dark rectangle cut into the concrete embankment, roughly six feet high and four feet wide. Old graffiti covers the lower edges of the opening. The interior is dark. Mara has her flashlight in hand, already aimed at the tunnel entrance. Dale stands beside her with his clipboard, posture loose and easy.
“Dale: You want to go first or should I? Mara: I'll go.”
Panel 5:Medium shot from inside the tunnel looking out: Mara steps through the tunnel entrance, her silhouette framed by the bright daylight behind her. Her flashlight beam cuts into the dark interior ahead. Dale follows a step behind. The daylight frame shrinks as they move deeper in.
Narrator:“She didn't tell Dale what the voice had said.”
PAGE 11
Panel 1:Mara and Dale move deeper into the service tunnel. The flashlight beam cuts through thick darkness, revealing concrete walls streaked with water stains and long rust bleeds from iron bolts overhead. Old graffiti — spray-painted tags and symbols — covers the lower half of both walls. The ceiling is low. Their breath is visible in the cold air.
Narrator:“The tunnel beneath the bridge. Years before the roundhouse.”
Panel 2:Close shot on a section of tunnel wall. Among the old spray-painted tags and faded markings, fresh scratches cut directly into the concrete — rough, urgent, uneven letters reading: THEY COME AT NIGHT. The letters are pale against the gray wall, clearly newer than the graffiti around them.
Panel 3:Medium shot: Mara stands close to the wall, flashlight trained on the scratched words. Dale leans in beside her, squinting at the letters. His posture is curious but relaxed. Mara's jaw is set, her gray-green eyes narrowed.
“Dale: Kids messing around. Mara: Those aren't spray paint. Those are fingernails.”
Panel 4:Narrow vertical panel: the far end of the tunnel, beyond the reach of the flashlight. A humanlike shape — upright, head and shoulders visible — stands in the deep darkness at the tunnel's vanishing point. It is still. The shape is recognizable as a person in outline but the posture is wrong: the head hangs too low on the neck, the shoulders are too far forward.
Panel 5:Close-up on Mara's face: her eyes are wide, flashlight arm extended forward, fixed on the far end of the tunnel. Her lips are parted. Then, from the darkness, a voice — rendered in a thin, uneven speech balloon at the panel's edge, as if coming from far away: her own name.
“Mara: Hello? Who's there?”
Panel 6:Wide shot of the tunnel interior: the overhead fluorescent strip lights flicker on — a harsh buzzing flash of white light filling the tunnel for one frame — then die completely. The tunnel is plunged back into darkness except for Mara's flashlight. Dale steps closer to Mara. The far end of the tunnel is empty. The shape is gone. Sound-effect text at the top of the panel: 'BZZZT—CLCK.'
“Dale: Lights are dead. We should call it. Mara: Yeah. Let's go.”
PAGE 12
Panel 1:Low wide shot of the tunnel floor ahead of Mara's feet. The flashlight beam sweeps downward to reveal bare footprints in the thick concrete dust — adult-sized, human in shape, leading directly toward the camera. The prints end at Mara's boot toes. There are no prints leading away.
Panel 2:Close-up on Mara's face from the front: her eyes drop to the floor at her feet, then slowly rise back up. Her expression is controlled but the muscles around her eyes are tight. Her flashlight arm does not waver.
Panel 3:Medium shot from behind Mara and Dale: both stand facing the empty tunnel ahead. From directly behind them — between their two bodies — a long, slow inhale sound effect runs across the bottom of the panel in thin text: 'HHHhhhh—' Dale's head turns slightly to one side. Mara goes perfectly still.
Panel 4:Wide shot of the tunnel looking back toward the entrance: daylight is visible as a bright rectangle at the far end. Between the camera and the entrance, a tall humanlike shape runs — full sprint, upright, arms and legs moving — away from Mara and Dale, toward the tunnel entrance and out into the light. The shape is a silhouette against the bright rectangle. Its proportions are recognizable but the stride is too long, the arms held slightly too low. It disappears through the entrance in one motion.
Panel 5:Medium shot: Mara and Dale stand at the tunnel entrance, both looking out into the daylight. The dry riverbed and bridge structure are visible outside. Nothing is there. No figure. No movement. Dale squints into the light. Mara's flashlight hangs at her side, still on. Her other hand is pressed flat against the tunnel wall.
“Dale: Did you see something run out? Mara: We're done in here. Let's go.”
PAGE 13
Panel 1:Close-up on Mara's eyes snapping open — gray-green, wide awake, fixed on the canvas curtain directly ahead. The curtain is dark. A thin line of faint pre-dawn gray light cuts through the gap. She is back in the roundhouse, present day. Her face shows the sharp, sudden return to wakefulness.
Narrator:“Back. The roundhouse. Now.”
Panel 2:Wide shot inside the cavity: Jack is asleep in the far corner, head resting against the wall, arms loose across his knees. The broken compass tattoo is visible on his forearm. Eli sits upright beside the curtain, awake, dark eyes open and watching. Mara is beside him, having just woken. A distant, hollow clang echoes through the building — sound effect text at the panel's lower edge: 'klng—klng.'
“Eli: You were out for a while. Mara: How long?”
Panel 3:Medium shot: Mara and Eli face each other across the sleeping Jack. Eli holds up two fingers. His voice is quiet, mouth barely moving. Mara pulls her knees to her chest and looks at the curtain, processing.
“Eli: Two hours. Nothing moved out there. Probably. Mara: It's still in the building.”
Panel 4:Close-up on Mara's face in three-quarter profile, eyes on the curtain. Her jaw is tight. She speaks quietly, the words clearly costing her something.
“Mara: I've heard that breathing before. Eli: What?”
Panel 5:Medium shot: Eli leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, dark eyes intent on Mara. Mara does not turn to look at him. Her gaze stays fixed on the curtain. Her expression is closed.
“Eli: Mara. Where? Mara: A tunnel. Years ago. Not now.”
Panel 6:Wide shot of the full cavity: all three figures still. Jack sleeps. Mara and Eli sit in silence, both looking at the curtain now. Another distant clang sounds from deep in the building — sound effect text at the panel edge: 'klng.' The roundhouse beyond the curtain is silent and dark.
PAGE 14
Panel 1:Wide shot inside the cavity: time has passed. Mara is now slumped against the wall beside the curtain, asleep, chin dropped toward her chest. Eli is also asleep, head back against the concrete, mouth slightly open. Jack sits between them, awake, eyes open. The thin gray light at the curtain gap has brightened slightly — still night, but later. Jack looks between the two sleeping figures.
Narrator:“Hours later.”
Panel 2:Close-up on Jack's face: sharp features, dark eyes wide open and alert. His head is tilted slightly, listening. From outside the curtain, barely audible — a voice. Rendered as a thin, faint speech balloon at the panel edge with irregular, wavering lines: 'Help. Is someone there?' Jack's eyes shift toward the curtain.
Panel 3:Medium shot: Jack looks at Mara, then at Eli. Both are deeply asleep. Jack's hand moves toward Mara's arm, then stops, hovering an inch away without touching. Jack's expression is caught between two choices.
Panel 4:Medium shot from the side: Jack eases to his feet in a low crouch, moving with careful deliberate steps toward the curtain edge. His flashlight stays tucked in his pocket — he does not turn it on. One hand reaches for the curtain edge. His face is set with cautious resolve.
Panel 5:Wide shot from outside the curtain: the heavy canvas swings aside in a sliver and Jack slips through, stepping out into the dark roundhouse. The curtain falls back into place behind him, hiding the sleeping Mara and Eli. The roundhouse stretches ahead — dark locomotive hulks, inspection pits, the distant faint moonlight columns from the broken skylights. Jack is a small figure in the enormous space.
PAGE 15
Panel 1:Medium shot: Jack moves between two massive locomotive hulks, one hand trailing along the rusted iron flank of the nearest engine for orientation in the dark. The voice comes again — thin, faint, rendered in a wavering speech balloon from somewhere ahead in the dark: 'Over here. Please.' Jack stops, head turning toward the sound.
“Jack: Hello? Where are you?”
Panel 2:Wide shot: Jack stands in the open space between two rows of dead locomotives, looking in all directions. No person is visible. The voice seems close but sourceless. The inspection pit is a dark trench in the floor to Jack's left. The central turntable is a dark disc in the middle distance. Jack's posture is tense, weight forward.
Panel 3:Low angle shot: close on the concrete floor ahead of Jack's feet. The flashlight is still not on. In the faint moonlight, fresh bare footprints are visible in the dust — adult-sized, leading away from Jack's position toward the far end of the bay. They are wet, leaving damp impressions in the dry dust.
Panel 4:Medium shot: Jack crouches over the footprints, looking at them, then looking up in the direction they lead. The prints head toward the far dark wall. Jack calls out in a hushed but urgent voice, scanning the space ahead.
“Jack: I can see your prints. Tell me where you are. I'm not going to hurt you.”
Panel 5:Narrow vertical panel: the space between two locomotive hulks ahead of Jack. Empty. Dark. The voice comes again — faint, rendered in a thin wavering balloon from somewhere very close, left or right rather than ahead: 'I'm right here. Can't you hear me?' Jack turns sharply toward the sound.
Panel 6:Close-up on Jack's face: eyes scanning left and right, jaw tight. The faint moonlight catches the broken compass tattoo on the forearm as Jack's arm raises slightly. No one is there. The space around Jack is empty. Jack's expression shifts from cautious to uncertain.
PAGE 16
Panel 1:Medium shot from behind Jack: Jack stands between the locomotives, looking forward. The voice comes — rendered in a thin speech balloon from directly behind Jack's position: 'Behind you.' Jack's shoulders snap rigid.
Panel 2:Wide shot: Jack spins around. The space behind him is completely empty. The locomotive hulks loom on both sides. The floor is bare concrete. Nothing is there. Sound effect text at the panel edge: 'silence.'
Panel 3:Close-up on Jack's face: eyes wide, scanning. Then the voice comes again — this time rendered in a different speech balloon: thick, irregular edges, the text heavier and uneven, the same words but in a register that is lower and wrong, animal-deep: 'Behind you.' The sound effect underneath it: 'HHHhh—'
Panel 4:Medium shot: Jack backs up — one step, two steps — toward the direction of the canvas curtains. Jack's arms are out slightly from his sides, palms open, eyes still scanning. The broken compass tattoo is visible on the raised forearm. The space around Jack is empty and dark.
Panel 5:Wide shot: Jack backing away, and in the deep shadow between two locomotives behind him — at the far end of the bay — a tall humanlike silhouette stands. Upright. Head, neck, shoulders, arms. Its proportions are recognizable but the head is tilted at an angle no person holds. It does not move. It simply watches. Jack has not yet seen it.
PAGE 17
Panel 1:Medium shot: Jack turns and runs — full sprint, arms pumping, heading back between the locomotive rows toward the canvas curtains visible in the far distance. Jack's face is open with fear now, the controlled caution gone.
Panel 2:Wide shot from above: Jack runs along the row of locomotives. Behind him, the tall humanlike silhouette moves between the engines — parallel to Jack, keeping pace, but not running. It moves with long, unhurried strides that somehow match Jack's sprint. Its face is never visible — turned down or away. Sound effect text tracking its steps at the panel edge: 'slp—slp—slp.'
Panel 3:Medium shot from the front: Jack running toward camera, the canvas curtains visible behind Jack — close now, only a few feet away. Jack's arm is already reaching forward, fingers outstretched toward the curtain edge. Jack's face is tight with exertion and fear.
Panel 4:Narrow vertical panel: the silhouette — seen in the gap between two locomotive hulks — has closed the distance. It is now directly behind Jack, only a few feet away. Its head is angled downward toward Jack's back. Its arms are at its sides. Its feet are bare. The face is not visible, pointed down. Sound effect at the panel bottom: 'HHHhhhh—'
PAGE 18
Panel 1:Wide shot: Jack's outstretched fingers are inches from the canvas curtain. Then two long pale hands shoot in from the right edge of the frame and seize Jack by the shoulders — one hand gripping each shoulder from behind. The hands are bare, the fingers long. Jack's body is wrenched backward violently, mid-stride, feet leaving the ground.
Panel 2:Medium shot: Jack is pulled backward into the darkness between two locomotive hulks — the movement violent and fast. Jack's mouth is open, the expression of someone about to scream, but no sound comes. The canvas curtain swings slightly from the displaced air. The roundhouse is silent. Sound effect at the panel bottom: 'silence.'
Panel 3:Close-up: a single sliver of moonlight falls through a broken skylight onto the concrete floor between two locomotive hulks. In that sliver of light, Jack's forearm is visible — the broken compass tattoo facing upward, the ink clear in the pale light. The hand at the end of the arm is limp. Then the arm slides backward, out of the light, and is gone.
Panel 4:Wide shot of the full roundhouse interior from a high angle: the canvas curtain hangs still. The locomotive bays are empty and silent. The moonlight columns fall undisturbed between the engines. The inspection pits are dark trenches. The turntable is a motionless iron disc. Nothing moves. The space is enormous and completely silent.
Narrator:“The roundhouse goes quiet.”
PAGE 19
Panel 1:Wide establishing shot: the upper windows of the roundhouse — tall arched gaps in the brick — glow with pale early morning light. The gray-white light falls in long columns through the dust. The locomotive hulks are visible in silhouette. The canvas curtain at the far wall hangs still.
Narrator:“Dawn.”
Panel 2:Close-up on Mara's face: her eyes open. She is awake immediately — no groggy transition, just eyes open and alert. She looks to her left, then to her right. Her expression shifts from alert to sharp alarm.
Panel 3:Medium shot inside the cavity: Mara is upright, looking at the empty corner where Jack slept. Jack's impression is visible in the dust — the outline of where his body rested against the wall. The space is empty. Eli stirs awake beside Mara, eyes opening, taking in the empty corner.
“Mara: Jack's gone. Eli: What — since when?”
Panel 4:Medium shot: Mara and Eli face each other in the low space. Eli's voice is hushed but urgent. Mara shakes her head, expression tight and certain.
“Eli: Maybe he stepped out. Needed air. You don't know that. Mara: Jack wouldn't go out alone.”
Panel 5:Close-up on the cavity floor near the curtain edge: in the dust, scuff marks — the toe impressions of someone moving quietly toward the curtain. They lead outward. No marks lead back in.
Panel 6:Medium shot: Mara pulls the curtain edge aside and looks out into the roundhouse. Pale dawn light fills the space. The locomotive bays stretch away. Nothing moves. She looks back at Eli, her expression hard and decided.
“Mara: He went out. Last night, alone. We look. Now. Eli: Why would he—”
PAGE 20
Panel 1:Wide shot: Mara and Eli move out of the hiding place and into the roundhouse. They are small figures in the enormous circular space. The pale dawn light comes through the high arched windows in long cold columns. The locomotive hulks loom on either side. Mara leads, flashlight in hand. Eli is close behind, scanning both sides.
Panel 2:Medium shot: Mara crouches over the concrete floor between two locomotive hulks. Her flashlight beam illuminates bare footprints — the same wet prints from before — leading away toward the center of the roundhouse. She presses two fingers to the nearest print. Eli watches over her shoulder.
“Eli: Those aren't Jack's shoes. Mara: No. They're not.”
Panel 3:Wide shot looking toward the center of the roundhouse: the massive iron turntable disc is visible in the middle distance, lit by a shaft of pale dawn light from a broken skylight directly above. From somewhere near it, a distant hollow clang echoes through the building. Sound effect text at the panel center: 'KLNG.' Both Mara and Eli look toward it.
“Eli: That came from the turntable.”
Panel 4:Medium shot from behind Mara and Eli: both look toward the turntable in the middle distance, then — in the opposite direction — toward the far end of the roundhouse where the large bay doors stand. Two of the iron shutters are open, a wide rectangle of pale morning light visible beyond them. A clear route out. Eli's head turns between the turntable and the open doors.
“Eli: Mara. The doors are open. Mara: I see them.”
PAGE 21
Panel 1:Wide shot: Mara and Eli stand at the edge of the massive iron turntable disc, lit by a single shaft of pale morning light from a broken skylight directly above. Mara's flashlight is in her hand but off — the daylight is enough. Both scan the locomotive bays around them. The turntable's iron surface is pitted and rust-streaked. The roundhouse curves away in both directions. The open bay doors are visible in the far distance behind them — a wide rectangle of morning light.
“Eli: Jack isn't here. We're exposed. We need to move.”
Panel 2:Medium shot: Mara faces Eli across the turntable edge, jaw set, gray-green eyes hard. She holds one finger up — wait. Her other hand presses flat against the iron surface of the turntable. Eli's broad shoulders are tense, dark eyes scanning behind her.
“Mara: Give me a second. Eli: Mara—”
Panel 3:Close-up: Mara's face in three-quarter profile, eyes narrowed, head tilted slightly toward the locomotive rows to her right. Her lips are pressed together. From behind her, a wet scraping sound — rendered as sound effect text along the panel's lower edge in thin dragging letters: 'SSShhhhk—'
Panel 4:Insert panel, low angle: the rusted iron flank of a locomotive hulk in the middle distance. A pale humanlike hand — long fingers, bare, the skin too smooth — grips the locomotive's lower edge from behind. The knuckles are white against the rust. The wrist and arm disappear behind the engine body. The hand holds there for one beat, then releases, and the fingers slide out of frame downward.
Panel 5:Wide shot: Mara and Eli stand frozen, both staring in the direction of the locomotive where the hand appeared. The space is empty now. No hand. No figure. Eli's hand is on Mara's arm. Both are still. The roundhouse is silent around them. Sound effect text at the panel's bottom edge in thin, sparse letters: 'silence.'
“Eli: Did you see that. Mara: Go. Now. Don't run.”
PAGE 22
Panel 1:Wide shot from behind Mara and Eli: both move at a controlled fast walk between the locomotive rows, heading toward the open bay doors visible ahead — a wide bright rectangle of morning light. Mara leads, flashlight gripped in one hand. Eli is directly behind her, head turned back over his shoulder, scanning. The locomotive hulks loom on either side.
Panel 2:Medium shot from the side: both figures moving. Eli's head snaps fully around — he heard something. From behind them in the dark, a low dragging sound tracks along the concrete floor. Sound effect text at the panel's lower edge in slow, uneven letters: 'SHhhhk— SHhhhk—' Mara does not stop walking. Her jaw is rigid.
“Eli: It's following us. Mara: Keep moving. Eyes forward.”
Panel 3:Wide shot: the open bay doors are close now — ten feet ahead. Morning light floods through the gap, washing the concrete floor white. Mara and Eli are nearly at the threshold. Their shadows stretch behind them toward the dark interior. The bright rectangle of outside is vivid and real ahead of them.
Panel 4:Close-up on Mara's face: she stops dead. Her eyes go wide, fixed on something in the darkness to her left. Her mouth opens slightly. The morning light catches the left side of her face. From the darkness inside — thin, faint, wavering — a voice. Rendered in an irregular speech balloon with trembling edges at the panel's left side, the text uneven: 'Mara.'
Panel 5:Medium shot: from the deep shadow between two locomotive hulks to the left of the doors, an arm extends into a narrow sliver of morning light — a tattooed forearm, the broken compass tattoo facing upward, the ink clear and unmistakable. The hand at the end of the arm is open, fingers spread, reaching outward. Then the arm jerks violently backward, wrenched from behind, and is gone. Sound effect at the panel's bottom: 'SHHHk—'
Panel 6:Wide shot: Mara lurches toward the shadow where the arm disappeared, one step, two — her body twisting back into the roundhouse interior. Eli seizes her arm with both hands, pulling her back toward the doors, his full weight behind it. His face is open with urgency. Her face is turned back toward the dark, her free arm extended.
“Mara: Jack— Eli: Mara. Don't.”
PAGE 23
Panel 1:Medium shot: Eli has both arms wrapped around Mara from behind, holding her back from the dark interior. She is not struggling violently — she has gone rigid, staring into the shadow. Eli's chin is near her shoulder, his eyes also fixed forward. Both are breathing hard. The morning light is at their backs.
“Mara: Let go of me. Eli: There is nothing we can do.”
Panel 2:Wide shot looking into the roundhouse interior from the doorway: the locomotive bays stretch away into shadow. Between two engine hulks in the middle distance, something rises into view above the engine line — the upper portion of a figure. A humanlike head, neck, and shoulders emerge from behind the nearest locomotive's roof edge. The proportions are recognizable — a person's outline — but the head sits low on the neck and the shoulders are pulled slightly forward and inward. The face is angled downward, turned away, never visible. The lower body remains hidden behind the engine. It simply rises there and holds.
Panel 3:Close-up on Mara's face: eyes locked on the figure. Her expression is stripped bare — not screaming, not collapsed, just fixed and present and very afraid. A single muscle jumps in her jaw. She does not look away.
Panel 4:Medium shot: the upper portion of the figure — head, neck, shoulders — tilts slowly. The head rotates to one side, birdlike, angling toward Mara and Eli at the doors. The face remains pointed downward and away, never fully visible. One long bare arm rises slightly from behind the locomotive edge, then lowers. It does not advance. It simply watches.
Panel 5:Medium shot: Eli's mouth is close to Mara's ear. His grip on her arm does not release. His eyes are on the figure. His voice is very low, barely shaped into words. Mara's eyes do not move from the figure in the dark.
“Eli: We go. Right now. Yet. Mara: It's not coming after us.”
PAGE 24
Panel 1:Wide shot from outside the roundhouse: Mara and Eli burst through the open bay doors into full morning light. The sunlight is stark and overexposed after the interior dark — the world outside is vivid and real. Mara's olive field jacket, Eli's dark wool sweater. Both squinting against the brightness. Weeds and overgrown gravel stretch away from the roundhouse exterior. Mara's hand is still gripping Eli's wrist. They do not stop moving.
Panel 2:Medium shot from behind: Mara and Eli move away from the roundhouse across the overgrown railroad yard. The curved brick building recedes behind them. Mara's head is turned back over her shoulder, looking at the open bay doors. Eli keeps his eyes forward. The doors are still open. The interior beyond them is dark.
“Mara: Jack was alive. That was Jack's voice. Eli: I know.”
Panel 3:Close-up on Mara's face in profile, mid-stride, looking back at the roundhouse. Her gray-green eyes are wet at the corners. Her jaw is clenched. She faces forward again. She does not stop walking.
“Mara: We're coming back. Eli: Yes. We are.”
Panel 4:Establishing shot: the full exterior of the circular roundhouse, seen from a distance across the overgrown railroad yard. The curved brick walls rise against a pale morning sky. The open bay doors are a dark rectangle at the base. Inside that dark rectangle — barely visible, a shorter humanlike silhouette stands at the threshold, not crossing into the light. Its proportions are recognizable but wrong: the head too low, the stance too still. It does not step forward. It simply stands and watches. In the far foreground, the small retreating figures of Mara and Eli move away across the gravel. Between the roundhouse and the two figures, on the sunlit gravel, a single bare footprint is pressed into the dust — just one — as if something took one step into the light and stopped.
