INT. TENT - NIGHT
Darkness. The RHYTHMIC TAP of snow on nylon. A frantic, percussive beat.
JOHN (32), soft features, wearing layers of expensive, pristine brand-name wool, stares up at the ceiling.
JOHN
A ROAR.
White noise obliterates the world. The ceiling SMASHES down. A colossal weight flattens the space.
Blackness. Heavy. Suffocating. The wind is muffled instantly.
SARAH (O.S.)
John thrashes. Nylon fills his mouth. He is pinned.
SARAH (O.S.)
John’s hand is pinned against his hip. He squirms, panic rising in his eyes. He claws at his waist.
His fingers graze the handle. Cold metal.
He rips the knife free. He JAMS the blade upward into the crushing weight.
RIIIIIP.
A seam of grey light bleeds in. Snow VOMITS into the hole, hitting John’s face.
EXT. MOUNTAINS - CONTINUOUS
A white void. Horizontal snow. No sky. No ground. Just a churning hurricane of ice.
John pushes his head through the tear in the tent. The wind HITS him like a physical blow.
SARAH (32), wind-whipped skin, eyes like flint, drags herself out beside him. She grabs John’s collar, screaming over the GALE.
SARAH
John stares at the nothingness. His mouth hangs open.
JOHN
Sarah SHOVES him toward a half-buried lump in the snow.
SARAH
John scrambles on hands and knees. He claws at a dark green patch in the white. His pack.
He rips the zipper. Fumbles past a bag of trail mix. Past a book.
Plastic. Orange.
He yanks out the shovel blade. Then the handle. He tries to slot them together.
The metal is frozen. It won't click.
John pulls off a glove. He SLAMS his bare palm against the plastic handle.
SNAP. It locks.
A red welt blooms on his hand immediately.
Sarah points to a dark rock outcropping, barely visible through the whiteout.
SARAH
EXT. SNOW DRIFT - MOMENTS LATER
John plunges the shovel into the hard-packed drift. It bounces off like cement.
He hack at it. Clumsy. Desperate.
Sarah is beside him, chopping with a small ice axe. Efficient. Rhythmic.
SARAH
John watches her. He adjusts his grip.
He cuts a square. He pulls it back.
He cuts. He pulls.
A dark mouth begins to open in the side of the hill.
INT. SNOW CAVE - NIGHT
Silence. Heavy and deep. A womb of blue ice.
John and Sarah lie in crinkling foil bivy sacks, shoulder to shoulder on thin pads. The space is tight. Coffin tight.
John shivers. VIOLENTLY. His teeth CLACK together.
JOHN
SARAH
Sarah shifts. She wraps an arm around his chest. She pulls him tight against her.
SARAH
John’s shivering rattles the foil.
JOHN
SARAH
Sarah rests her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes are open, staring at the blue ice.
SARAH
John stops shivering. He presses back against her warmth.
INT. SNOW CAVE - DAWN
Silence. Absolute. Not even the wind hums.
Sarah opens her eyes.
She crawls out of the tangle of bags. She pushes at the snow block sealing the entrance.
It scrapes away.
BLINDING BLUE LIGHT.
EXT. MOUNTAINS - CONTINUOUS
Pristine. Sculpted white drifts flow around the rocks like a frozen sea.
The sky is a painful, perfect blue.
John crawls out, blinking. He stands up. His breath plumes in the still air.
Golden sunlight hits the peaks. Fire on ice.
John turns to Sarah.
She isn't checking gear. She isn't looking for the trail.
She is staring at the horizon. Her mouth slightly open. Awe.
She catches him looking. She gives him a small, tired smile.
SARAH
She gestures to the buried camp.
SARAH
John nods. He picks up the shovel.
He starts to dig.