INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT
A plastic inhaler shakes in a clenched fist. Violent. Desperate.
A final, empty HISS escapes the nozzle.
JAMES (32), hollow-cheeked and wearing a hoodie that has seen better days, stares at the device.
From the bedroom down the hall, a thin, high WHISTLE cuts the air. The sound of a closing windpipe.
James throws the plastic canister onto the counter. It SKITTERS across the laminate and drops to the floor.
MANDY (30) stands in the doorway. Her face is pale in the dim light. Her hands twist the hem of her shirt until her knuckles turn white.
The line is still busy. Just a recording.
James grabs his worn sneakers by the door. He jams his feet into them, crushing the heels.
I'm going.
No. You hear them? They've been circling all night.
A low, guttural RUMBLE vibrates the floorboards. Heavy tires on asphalt. Close.
She can't breathe, Mandy.
The whistling from the bedroom hitches. A wet, desperate COUGH follows.
James shoves a crumpled prescription slip and a thin wallet into his pocket.
The 24-hour place on Grove. Six blocks.
Mandy crosses the room in two steps. She grabs his arm. Her fingers dig into his bicep.
Six blocks is a death sentence. They see you, they don't ask questions. They just take you.
James looks at her hand on his arm. Then up to her eyes.
What happens if I don't go?
He pulls her hand away gently. He presses a quick kiss to her forehead.
He slips out the door.
INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Pitch black. James keeps his hand on the wall. His shoulder brushes against peeling paint.
He reaches the fire escape door. A heavy chain loops through the handles of the main lobby doors down the hall.
EXT. FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT
James steps onto the metal grate. The iron is slick with condensation.
He descends. Slowly. Deliberately.
His sneaker SCRAPES a rusted step. The sound echoes like a gunshot.
He freezes. He waits.
Silence returns. Heavy. Expectant.
EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT
James drops the last few feet to the pavement. A soft THUD.
He presses his back against the brick wall. The rough texture digs into his hoodie.
He counts to three. He pushes off the wall.
EXT. SCHOOL PLAYGROUND - NIGHT
A wide, exposed expanse of asphalt. Swing sets stand like skeletons against the dark sky.
James moves fast. Crouched low.
The grinding of GEARS erupts nearby. Louder than before.
James sprints.
A large green DUMPSTER sits at the edge of the playground.
James dives behind it just as a blinding white BEAM floods the area.
He squeezes into the gap between the cold metal of the dumpster and a chain-link fence.
The stench of rotting garbage is thick. Hot. Sweet.
The RUMBLE grows into a ROAR. The ground shakes.
The light sweeps over the top of the dumpster. The heat of the bulb radiates against James's scalp.
DISTORTED VOICES crackle over a radio. Clipped. unintelligible.
James squeezes his eyes shut. He holds his breath.
The light lingers.
The truck GROANS. The gears shift. The rumble fades slowly down the street.
James peels his cheek off the damp metal. He forces himself up.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
A single window glows down the block. A pharmacy.
James stumbles toward the light.
EXT. PHARMACY SERVICE WINDOW - NIGHT
Thick plexiglass behind iron bars.
James shoves the prescription slip and a debit card through the metal slot.
A PHARMACIST (50s), gray hair pulled back tight, approaches the glass. She moves with methodical slowness.
She takes the slip. She disappears.
James taps his fingers on his thigh. A frantic rhythm.
She returns. She pushes a small paper bag and the card into the drawer.
James snatches the bag. He doesn't wait for the receipt.
He turns to run.
EXT. STREET CORNER - NIGHT
James skids to a halt.
One block away, strobing RED and BLUE lights paint the brick buildings.
A PATROL TRUCK blocks the intersection.
Two ARMORED AGENTS drag a MAN out of a doorway. The man's arms are wrenched behind his back. He is limp.
James steps back into the shadows. He looks to the left. A narrow gap between buildings.
EXT. BACK ALLEY - NIGHT
Narrow. Claustrophobic. The buildings block out the moon.
James runs. His breathing is loud in the confined space.
He takes a sharp right. Then a left.
The alley ends abruptly.
A ten-foot brick wall blocks the path. Razor wire glints along the top.
James spins around.
FOOTSTEPS echo from the mouth of the alley. Quick. Light.
James backs up until his spine hits the cold brick of the dead-end wall.
He clutches the paper bag to his chest.
A SILHOUETTE detaches from the darkness at the alley entrance.
The figure moves closer.
A glint of metal shines in the figure's hand.
James stops breathing.