INT. HALLWAY - DAY
The attic latch is frozen shut.
GERTA (9), small and bird-like with frost-nipped fingers, puts her shoulder into the ceiling door.
A GRUNT escapes her throat. The metal doesn't budge.
A cloud of steam puffs from her mouth and vanishes in the gloom.
INT. KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
The CLINK of a spoon against ceramic.
LENA (38), her face a map of exhaustion and worry, stirs a bowl.
She lets out a tired SIGH.
INT. HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER
Gerta drags a kitchen chair across the floorboards.
The legs SCRAPE against the warped wood.
Gerta climbs onto the wobbling chair.
She fumbles with the metal ring of the latch.
Her knuckles turn white.
She balls her hand into a fist.
She TAPS the latch. Once. Twice.
A third time, harder, using the bony part of her wrist.
A CRACKLE of ice breaking.
The latch SHUDDERS.
With a groaning PULL, the door swings open.
A puff of frigid, dusty air washes over Gerta.
INT. ATTIC - CONTINUOUS
Gerta pulls down a rickety folding ladder.
It unfolds with a series of loud CRACKS.
Gerta freezes.
Gerta? What was that?
Nothing. Chair slipped.
Gerta waits.
The spoon starts STIRRING again.
Gerta scrambles up the ladder and pulls it up.
She pushes the trapdoor shut.
Darkness.
A single, grimy porthole window provides a sliver of light.
A canvas sea bag sits under the eaves.
Gerta pulls a loose thread.
A satisfying TEARING sound.
A wool blanket, a tin of biscuits, and a dented canteen spill out.
At the bottom: a heavy, olive-green radio.
The AN/PRC-77.
Gerta traces the stenciled numbers.
She turns the power knob with both hands.
CLICK.
A low HISS fills the attic.
STATIC.
Gerta twists the frequency dial.
The static changes pitch.
She presses the handset to her ear.
HISS. CRACKLE. POP.
Gerta slumps against a roof beam. Her eyes burn.
She turns the dial slowly. Methodically.
A voice, warped and distant, flickers through the noise.
...report... severe weather warning... ice forming on...
Gerta freezes.
She leans closer to the handset.
(whispering)
This is Gerta. Awaiting orders.
A sharp burst of static. POP. HISS.
...watch your back...
Gerta's breath catches.
She packs the biscuits and canteen into the bag.
She straps the radio to her back.
She extends the antenna.
EXT. STREET - LATER
The sky is the color of a bruise.
Snow CRUNCHES under Gerta's boots.
Ruined buildings line the street like skeletons.
A military transport RUMBLES past.
Gerta watches from the shadows of a wall.
Icicles hang from every roofline.
Long, clear daggers of ice.
Gerta stares at them.
Movement at a neighbor's house.
ELSBETH (70s), stooped and slow, places a milk bottle on her doorstep.
The door CLICKS shut.
Gerta darts from the shadows.
She snatches the bottle.
She retreats into the darkness.
INT. ATTIC - NIGHT
Gerta sits with the radio.
The milk bottle sits on the floor.
She clicks the power knob. HISS.
Command, this is Gerta. Report follows.
Patrol complete. Identified multiple enemy emplacements.
Glass knives, deployed on all rooftops. High threat level.
Secured a potential enemy asset. White liquid.
Awaiting further instructions. Over.
A crackle of a distant broadcast drifts in.
...that's a sharp price... must be destroyed...
Gerta nods.
INT. HALLWAY - DAY
Gerta stands at the top of the ladder.
Lena stands below, pointing at the milk bottle.
That's Elsbeth's milk. Did you steal it?
I requisitioned it for analysis.
Lena reaches for the bottle.
Give it to me. You're taking it back.
No! It's contaminated!
Gerta, stop this. This game is going too far.
Gerta goes cold.
It's not a game.
EXT. STREET - DAY
Gerta walks down the street with a metal pipe.
She swings the pipe.
CRACK.
An icicle shatters into a thousand pieces.
She moves to the next house.
SMASH.
The sound echoes in the silence.
Hey! Little girl!
Two SOLDIERS stand at the end of the block.
They hold rifles across their chests.
What are you doing?
Classified.
You should be inside. Go home.
Gerta gives a sharp nod.
She turns and walks away.
INT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
Lena is frantic.
The soldiers came to the door. You scared me to death!
Lena reaches for a hug.
Gerta goes rigid.
I know what you are.
What are you talking about?
You're compromised.
Lena stares, mouth open.
Gerta, honey, this has to stop. Give me the radio.
Lena moves toward the attic ladder.
I need you to come see something.
In the cellar. I found something.
Lena hesitates. Then nods.
INT. CELLAR - CONTINUOUS
Gerta pulls open the heavy cellar door.
Darkness below.
What is it?
You have to see.
Gerta places her hand flat against Lena's back.
A gentle pressure.
Lena stumbles forward.
A series of heavy THUDS.
Silence.
Gerta slams the heavy oak door.
She slides the metal bolt into place.
CLICK.
Gerta! Let me out! Gerta!
INT. ATTIC - NIGHT
Gerta sits with the radio.
The house is silent.
She lifts the handset.
Command, this is Gerta.
The internal threat has been neutralized.
Asset is secured. The base is clean.
Awaiting new orders.
HISS. STATIC.