EXT. ALLEYWAY - DAY
A rusted BOLT sits frozen in a hasp. Utterly stuck.
JUDE (30s), gaunt, wrapped in layers of mismatched rags, fumbles with a key. His hands are encased in thin wool gloves, riddled with holes.
Exposed fingertips, blue and raw, slip against the metal. The key turns a fraction. Stops. Grinds.
Jude yanks his hand back. He blows a puff of GREY AIR onto his knuckles. The breath fogs and vanishes instantly.
A MUFFLED ROAR swells in the distance. Like a restless ocean. Beneath it, the distant SHRIEK of sirens.
Jude jams the key back in. He jiggles it. Shoulders hunched against the biting wind.
CLINK. The tumblers tease movement. Then lock down hard.
Jude leans his forehead against the corrugated metal of the shed door. He closes his eyes. A small puff of frustration escapes his lips.
He pulls back. Glares at the cheap padlock.
The SIREN WAILS again. Closer. Ragged. Like a dying animal.
Jude hammers the side of the lock with the heel of his hand.
THWACK.
No give. Just the vibration of cold steel.
THWACK.
Jude winces. He clenches his fist, shaking out the sting. He scrapes a boot against the frozen ground. Hardened snow CRUNCHES.
He holds the key up to the grey light. The shaft is bent. A tiny, imperceptible warp.
He presses the key against his thigh. Tries to straighten it with numb fingers. It remains stiff. Unyielding.
The crowd noise shifts. Individual SHOUTS pierce the wind. Angry. Desperate.
Jude looks up at the narrow slice of grey sky between the high, rusted walls. A single brittle icicle hangs from a broken gutter.
TINK. A drop of water hits the frozen ground.
Jude tries the key again. Gentle this time. He twists slowly.
A faint CLICK.
He holds his breath. Twists further.
CRACK. His own knuckle pops. The lock doesn't move.
Jude growls. He steps back. Surveys the door. The padlock is the only thing holding it.
He scans the ground. Rubble. Frozen dirt. Shards of glass sparkling like cruel diamonds. No rock. No crowbar.
THE STRANGER (O.S.)
Stuck, is it?
Jude spins around. Slips on the ice. Recovers.
THE STRANGER (ageless) stands at the alley mouth. Silhouetted against the snow-filled street. Tall. Bundled in dark, tattered cloth. A hood obscures their face.
JUDE
None of your business.
Jude steps back toward the shed door. Blocks it with his body.
The Stranger takes a slow step forward. Graceful. Predatory.
THE STRANGER
Everything's everyone's business, out here. Especially when you're making a racket.
JUDE
Racket? I'm trying to open a door. It's jammed.
The Stranger stops a few feet away. A large, gloved hand emerges from a tattered sleeve. Points at the lock.
THE STRANGER
That thing won't open with a prayer and a foot. It needs persuasion.
JUDE
I know what it needs. And I don't need your help.
A dry CHUCKLE scrapes the air.
THE STRANGER
Oh, you need help. Everyone needs help.
The Stranger steps closer. Glints of eyes visible beneath the hood.
JUDE
What do you want?
THE STRANGER
I want to see what's in there. I want to know if it's worth the fuss.
The ROAR of the crowd spikes. The sound of BREAKING GLASS echoes from the main street.
THE STRANGER
(CONTINUOUS)
The sounds are changing. Soon, this alley won't be safe for lonely people.
Jude glances toward the street. Fear tightens his face.
JUDE
I just need the fuel. For the settlement. The filtration system dies without it. People get sick.
THE STRANGER
Sick. Hungry. Cold. Does it matter?
The Stranger shrugs.
THE STRANGER
(CONTINUOUS)
What's in it for me?
JUDE
The settlement exists. If it dies, you're just another starving mouth. We're keeping things running. Barely.
THE STRANGER
Barely is not enough, little spark.
The Stranger reaches into their coat.
Jude tenses. Shifts his weight.
The Stranger pulls out a tool. A piece of bent REBAR, filed with notches. It gleams dully.
THE STRANGER
This is persuasion.
The Stranger moves past Jude. Fluid. Unhesitant. Inserts the tool into the keyhole.
Jude watches. Frozen.
CHITTERING CLICKS. Fast. Intricate. Like insect legs on metal.
THUNK.
The padlock pops open. It swings loose on the hasp.
The Stranger withdraws the tool. Wipes it on their sleeve.
THE STRANGER
There. Now. What's in it for me?
Jude stares at the open lock. Then at the Stranger.
THE STRANGER
(CONTINUOUS)
You go in. You get what you need. Then you meet me at the old radio tower. Sunrise. Alone.
The Stranger steps back into the shadows of the alley mouth.
THE STRANGER
(CONTINUOUS)
Don't be late. And don't bring friends. The next lock won't be so easy.
The Stranger melts into the gloom. Gone.
The ROAR of the protest crashes louder. A crescendo.
Jude stands alone.
The shed door gapes open a fraction. A dark rectangle of void.
Jude stares into the blackness.