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Scene 1 – Homecoming
[EXT. FORT NOLTON – RUNWAY – DAY]
(The C-17 screeches against the runway, jolting every soldier in the cargo bay. Dust swirls outside the small windows, blurring the hangars.)
Mason (tightening plate carrier straps, calm but alert): “Alright, Alpha Team. Ramp drops in twenty. Stay tight, stay alert.”
(A soft voice comes from behind him.)
Riley (hugging her rifle, eyes wide but controlled): “Staff Sergeant… does the base seem… off to you?”
Mason (glancing briefly, voice steady): “We’ll get answers soon.”
(The plane’s ramp groans open. Blinding sunlight hits them first — then the smell. Smoke, burned rubber, rot — heavy, sour, choking.)
Turner (stepping forward, SAW hanging loose): “Jesus… looks like the place got hit by a hurricane.”
Brooks (tightening grip on medic bag, sweat beading): “Or a war.”
(Mason scans the base — a Humvee half-crashed into a jersey barrier, a watch tower unmanned, door swinging open, blood smeared across a checkpoint booth window. Silent. No personnel. No vehicles running. Not even the hum of generators.)
Riley (voice trembling): “Sir… where is everyone?”
(Mason kneels beside a set of footprints — dried mud mixed with something darker. He runs fingers across them.)
Mason: “Humans. But dragging. Like someone had been pulled.”
(He stands.)
Mason: “Stay in formation. Head to the comms building.”
(The squad moves cautiously across the tarmac. Boots crunch broken glass and scattered documents.)
Turner (kicking a fallen IV bag aside): “Medical tents empty. No bodies, no wounded… nothing. This doesn’t make sense.”
Brooks (whispering): “Even in a base attack, med teams triage. They don’t just vanish.”
(Riley stays close beside Mason, shoulder brushing his. Her eyes flicker toward him briefly, fear fading slightly.)
(A distant metallic clang echoes from the motor pool. Mason raises a fist.)
Mason: “Hold.”
(They freeze. Something moves between two trucks — a figure. Limbs stiff. Head twitching unnaturally.)
Riley (whispering): “Is that… a soldier?”
(Mason signals Turner forward. Big man steps out, weapon raised.)
Turner: “Hey! Identify yourself!”
(The figure turns. Half its jaw hangs loose. Eyes clouded. Skin gray, cracked, peeling.)
Brooks (gasping quietly, stepping back): “Is he— is that—?”
(The creature sprints, not like a man but starving. Mason shoves Riley behind him and fires a clean burst — three shots through the skull. The body collapses, twitching once.)
Turner (swearing loudly, stumbling back): “What the HELL was that?!”
Brooks (kneeling beside the corpse, hesitant to touch): “This… this isn’t medically possible. No vital signs… no coherence… I don’t even know.”
(Riley stares at the blood spreading across the concrete. Hands tremble slightly, only Mason notices. He places a hand briefly on her shoulder — steady, grounding.)
Mason: “You did good, Private. Eyes up.”
(She nods, hiding relief. Mason checks horizon — smoke rising beyond the base. Civilian areas. Whatever happened… it’s not just military.)
Mason (taking a breath): “We need communication. If D.C. is still standing, they’ll know what happened.”
Turner (looking at him): “And if D.C. isn’t standing?”
Mason (without hesitation): “Then we find out who is.”
(Riley falls into step beside him again, a little closer than before — unnoticed by others, but Mason notices.)
(The squad pushes forward, deeper into the ruined base. Their homecoming has become a battlefield. The world they fought for… might already be gone.)
Scene 2 – The Comms Building
[EXT. FORT NOLTON – COMMS BUILDING – AFTERNOON]
(The sky is dim, thick gray clouds sliding over the base. The wind carries the smell of burned fuel across the silent tarmac. The comms building — a low concrete bunker with reinforced windows and a steel door — looms ahead. One window is shattered inward, glass scattered across the ground like small ice chips.)
Mason (raising two fingers, calm, measured): “Stack up. Turner, you’re on point.”
(Turner steps forward, boot crunching softly over broken glass.)
Turner: “This place feels wrong, Sarge.”
Brooks (wiping sweat from brow): “I’d rather be back in Kunar than walk into this shit.”
Mason: “Kunar wasn’t exactly easy.”
Brooks: “I know, jus—”
Riley (cutting him off, firm): “Shut it, Brooks. Focus.”
(She stays close behind Mason, gripping her rifle tightly. Breathing steady, shoulders tense.)
(Mason slowly pushes the door open. The heavy hinges groan quietly as the steel swings inward. Dim red emergency lights flicker overhead. Papers litter the floor. A chair lies overturned. Coffee stains streak the ground.)
Brooks (covering nose, whispering): “Something died in here…”
Mason (scanning hallway, whispering back): “More than one.”
(The squad moves in formation — Turner clears left, Riley covers right, Mason center, Brooks rear. A dark trail of dried blood stretches long into the building, as if bodies had been dragged away by force.)
Turner (voice low): “This wasn’t a normal breach… this was a massacre.”
(Mason crouches beside the blood, brushing it lightly with two fingers.)
Mason: “Dragged. Not carried.”
(Riley swallows hard, trying to hide her fear as her eyes follow the trail.)
[INT. COMMS BUILDING – RADIO OPERATIONS ROOM – AFTERNOON]
(Monitors smashed. Radios ripped apart. Wires dangle from the ceiling. A heavy desk has been overturned, pinning a soldier beneath it.)
Brooks (kneeling by the body, checking wounds): “Fresh. Dead a few days at most.”
(Turner leans down and rolls the soldier over. Throat torn, eyes blank.)
Riley (looking away, stomach twisting): “…Oh God.”
Mason (stepping closer, scanning): “No shell casings. No bullet holes.”
Turner: “So this wasn’t a fight.”
(Mason doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to.)
[INT. COMMS BUILDING – HALLWAY – AFTERNOON]
(Preparing to move, they notice movement deeper inside — cautious, uneven. Brooks stiffens.)
Brooks: “…Tell me that was an animal.”
Riley (whispering): “No walker moves that quietly.”
Turner (nodding): “Someone’s in here.”
(Mason motions silently. They advance down the corridor, clearing corners. The hallway grows darker, lit only by failing red lights. Footsteps closer, more deliberate.)
(They reach the server room door. Mason peeks inside.)
(A soldier in U.S. Army uniform crouches against a server rack, shaking violently. Hands clutching his head, breath ragged. 1st Battalion patch.)
Mason (stepping inside, rifle raised, calm but commanding): “Soldier. Show me your hands.”
(The man jerks back, knocking over stacked folders.)
Soldier: “D-don’t shoot! Please—!”
(Riley lowers her weapon slightly.)
Riley: “He’s alive.”
(Brooks rushes in, checking arms and neck.)
Brooks: “No bites. No wounds. Just shock and dehydration.”
(Mason crouches, level with him.)
Mason: “I’m Staff Sergeant Mason Hart. What’s your unit?”
Soldier (stammering): “1st Battalion… 121st Infantry… National Guard.”
Mason (nodding, voice sharp): “Good. Now tell me what happened. Perimeter wasn’t breached. How did this base fall?”
Soldier (voice trembling): “It started in the barracks… Bravo Barracks.”
Riley (leaning slightly forward, eyes locked on him): “How?”
Soldier (whispering): “One guy came back sick. Fever. Delirious. Collapsed in the showers… then died.”
Turner (frowning): “How did it spread?”
Soldier (voice cracking): “Because he got back up.”
(Silence. Riley pales, looking away. Brooks shakes his head in disbelief.)
Soldier: “He attacked Sergeant Miller… tore his throat out. Spread fast. Minutes. People turning all over the barracks.”
Mason (jaw tightening): “Command?”
Soldier: “Colonel Reeves tried. Ordered perimeter… Radio operators went first. MPs next. Someone panicked — friendly fire everywhere. Then… everything collapsed.”
Mason (steady, controlled): “Anyone escape?”
Soldier (hesitant): “A few… maybe a dozen. Highway… heard gunfire… then nothing.”
Mason (leaning in, voice low): “Did the infected… change? Evolve?”
(The soldier grabs Mason’s vest suddenly, shaking violently.)
Soldier: “They’re learning.”
Riley (breath catching): “…Learning?”
Soldier: “They move differently. Think differently. I saw three… waiting behind a corner. Knew we were coming.”
Turner (stepping back, eyes wide): “Adapting?”
Brooks (swallowing hard): “…That can’t be real.”
Riley (quiet, serious, looking at Mason): “If that’s true… East Coast might already be gone.”
Soldier (whispering, voice desperate): “Leave before dark… that’s when they get worse.”
(A distant screech echoes from outside — sharp, hungry, inhuman. Riley instinctively moves closer to Mason, shoulder brushing him lightly.)
Riley: “Staff Sergeant… that didn’t sound like the one at the hangar.”
(Mason chambers a round. Metallic click echoes softly.)
Mason: “No, it didn’t..”
