INT. HOCKEY ARENA - NIGHT
A black disc cuts through the air. A missile.
HANNA (17), masked and padded, is a statue in the crease. Her glove hand snaps up.
THWACK.
The puck dies in the leather pocket. Hanna freezes. She looks down at the captured rubber. Exhales.
The WHISTLE blows.
LIAM (17) taps her pads with his stick.
Nice save.
Hanna nods. Her eyes are already moving. Scanning.
TYLER (17) stands near the blue line. He is big, broad-shouldered. He skates with a heavy, deliberate slowness.
The puck drops at center ice. Chaos.
Bodies collide. Skates carve the ice, spraying white dust.
The opposing team seizes the puck. A turnover. Two players streak toward Hanna. A two-on-one.
Tyler is the only defender back. He skates backward. He does not attack. He drifts between the attackers, stick held close to his body.
Hanna crouches. Tenses.
(Muffled)
Take him! Go!
Tyler keeps backing up. Giving space. The attacker winds up.
A SLAP SHOT.
Hanna kicks out a leg. The puck deflects off her pad. PING. It hits the post and skitters into the corner.
The BUZZER sounds.
INT. LOCKER ROOM - LATER
Steam rises from sweaty gear. Music blasts.
Hanna peels off her chest protector. She looks across the room.
Tyler sits alone by his stall. He unlaces his skates, head down. He does not smile.
Hanna watches him. She shakes her head and turns away.
EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT
A bus cuts through the dark. Snow begins to fall. Light at first, then heavier.
INT. BUS - CONTINUOUS
The team is scattered. Some sleep. Some scroll on phones.
Hanna leans her head against the cold window. Outside, the world is a blur of gray.
She closes her eyes.
FADE TO:
INT. BUS - LATER
Hanna jolts awake. The gray outside is now a solid wall of white. A blizzard.
The bus crawls. The WIPERS thump rhythmically. Violent gusts shake the heavy frame.
Hanna sits up. She looks forward.
Tyler grips the seat in front of him. His knuckles are white. He stares out the window, unblinking.
The bus LURCHES to the right.
Metal GRINDS against gravel.
Hanna is thrown sideways. Her head cracks against the glass.
The world tilts. Gravity shifts.
CRUNCH.
Darkness. Absolute silence.
The wind HOWLS outside.
(O.S.)
Everyone... sound off.
Here.
(Sobbing)
I'm stuck.
A cell phone light flicks on. A beam cuts the gloom.
The bus is angled steeply. The front windshield is a spiderweb of cracks. Snow drifts in through a broken side window.
Hanna rubs her head. She stands up in the tilted aisle. Breath plumes in the freezing air.
We have to move. The town is five miles back. Grab your bags.
She reaches for her gear bag.
No.
Hanna freezes. She shines her phone light on him.
Tyler hasn't moved. He sits perfectly still, staring at the swirling snow outside.
We sit here, we freeze. We walk, we live.
Visibility is zero. Wind chill is forty below. You walk out there, you die in twenty minutes.
So we do nothing?
We wait. They know the route. The bus is a target. We are not.
Coach steps into the light. He looks at the smashed window. Then at the terrified faces of the younger players.
Tyler's right. We stay.
Hanna stares at Coach. Then at Tyler. She drops her bag. It lands with a heavy THUD.
LATER
The bus is a tomb. Frost creeps across the metal ceiling.
Tyler stands in the aisle. He points to the bags.
Empty them. We need insulation.
The team moves. Jerseys, pads, socks. They pass them forward.
Tyler jams shoulder pads into the broken window. He stuffs socks into the cracks of the windshield.
The howling wind muffles. The draft dies down.
Center aisle. Everyone. Body heat.
They shuffle together. A mass of shivering limbs.
Hanna sits between Liam and SAM (14). Sam shakes violently.
Hanna wraps an arm around him. He buries his face in her coat.
Silence stretches. The cold is a physical weight.
Hey, Sam.
Sam sniffs. Doesn't look up.
Remember Northwood? Down three in the third?
He nods against her shoulder.
Coach was ready to leave. Then Liam winds up at the blue line...
She looks at Liam. He manages a weak smile.
The sound it made. Like a cannon.
Heads lift in the darkness. Eyes focus on Hanna.
She keeps talking. Her voice grows stronger, pushing back the dark.
Across the huddle, a phone screen illuminates Tyler's face.
He is watching Hanna. He gives a single, slow nod.
Hanna nods back.
EXT. ROAD - PRE-DAWN
The storm has broken. The bus is a white mound in a sea of snow.
A low RUMBLE vibrates the ground.
INT. BUS - CONTINUOUS
Hanna wakes. The rumble grows. A mechanical GROAN.
Orange light sweeps across the frosted windows. Blue flashes.
A HORN blasts.
The emergency door at the back SCREECHES open.
Frigid air rushes in. A FIGURE stands silhouetted against the blinding headlights of a snowplow.
INT. TOWN HALL - DAY
Warm light. Blankets. Steam rising from cocoa cups.
Hanna stands at a large window. Outside, a massive plow scrapes the street. It pushes a mountain of ice aside.
Tyler steps up beside her. He holds a cup with both hands.
It's brutal.
The ice?
The machine. It doesn't stop.
The ice is stronger. If you fight it, it breaks you. You have to wait for it to move.
Hanna looks at him. Really looks at him.
We're alive because we waited.
Tyler takes a sip. He watches the plow.
We're alive because you kept them from freezing on the inside.
Hanna turns back to the window. The plow scrapes down to the blacktop.
Next game. You call the defense.
Tyler looks at her. A ghost of a smile.
Okay.
They stand together, watching the heavy steel blade clear the path.