EXT. BACKYARD – NIGHT
A vast, manicured backyard stretches into darkness -- too
big, too quiet.
Perfect grass. Trimmed hedges. A stone patio glowing faintly
under a porch light.
At the back door sits an AGED COCKER SPANIEL, cloudy-eyed,
ribs faintly visible beneath thinning fur.
The dog WHIMPERS -- a small, tired sound -- and scratches
once at the glass.
No response.
The dog settles back onto its haunches, ears twitching at
something it can’t see.
The night presses in.
Beyond the pool of porch light, the yard dissolves into
shadow.
The edge of the property blurs into a wall of trees and brush
-- untamed, breathing darkness.
The dog tilts its head.
A faint sound -- a shift in the grass.
The cocker spaniel stiffens. Its tail tucks low. A low,
uncertain WHINE escapes its throat.
Behind the dog, at the far edge of the yard --
A SHADOW slips free from the darkness.
At first, it barely moves. Just a suggestion. A distortion in
the night.
The dog slowly turns.
The shadow advances -- silent, deliberate. Each step
controlled. Calculated.
The dog’s legs TREMBLE now.
The shadow grows taller. Wider.
A faint glint catches the porch light --
RED EYES.
Unblinking. Assessing.
The dog lets out a soft, pleading CRY.
The shadow closes in, swallowing the dog’s small body in
darkness.
A LOW, PRIMAL SNARL ripples through the yard -- not loud, not
rushed -- a warning meant only for its prey.
The shape lowers.
Muscle rolls beneath fur as the creature steps into the edge
of the light --
A MASSIVE MOUNTAIN LION, scarred and powerful, teeth bared,
breath slow and steady.
The dog freezes. Knows.
A heartbeat of stillness.
Then --
The mountain lion EXPLODES FORWARD, a blur of muscle and
teeth --
SMASH TO BLACK.
A short, wrenching SQUEAL cuts through the night.
Then --
Only the faint CREAK of the backyard trees...
and the porch light humming, indifferent.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Morning Rituals
INT. KITCHEN – MORNING
Early light creeps through half-open blinds, striping the
kitchen in pale gold.
The house is old. Lived-in.
A little too quiet.
MATT stands at the stove in a faded T-shirt, barefoot,
sleeves pushed up. He cracks eggs into a pan with practiced
efficiency.
The SIZZLE fills the room.
Coffee BREWS.
Toast POPS.
This is a man who knows how to keep things moving.
At the kitchen table, SEAN (13) slouches in a hoodie, hair
sticking up, eyes half-closed. He scrolls on his phone,
pretending not to be awake yet.
From the hallway, slow SHUFFLING FOOTSTEPS.
BRUCE (70s) appears in the doorway, rumpled pajama pants, an
old flannel buttoned wrong. He pauses, confused — like he’s
stepped into someone else’s house.
Matt clocks it immediately.
MATT
Morning, Dad.
Bruce squints, takes in the room.
BRUCE
...Morning.
A beat. Bruce scans the kitchen again, searching for context.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
You cooking?
Matt smiles — gentle, careful.
MATT
I am.
Bruce nods, reassured by that much.
Sean looks up.
SEAN
You making the good eggs or the
burnt ones?
Matt slides a piece of toast onto a plate.
MATT
You eat the burnt ones. Builds
character.
Sean smirks.
Bruce pulls out a chair and sits slowly, hands resting on the
table like he’s anchoring himself.
He watches Matt cook -- intent. Studying.
BRUCE
Your mother used to make eggs like
that.
Matt doesn’t look at him.
MATT
Yeah. She did.
Silence stretches — not awkward, just loaded.
Matt plates the eggs and sets one in front of Bruce, one in
front of Sean.
Bruce stares down at the plate.
BRUCE
You didn’t have to do this.
MATT
I wanted to.
Bruce nods again. Accepts that.
Sean pokes at his eggs.
SEAN
We’re out of hot sauce.
Matt freezes -- just for half a beat -- then keeps moving.
MATT
We’ll survive.
SEAN
Barely.
Bruce suddenly looks up, suspicious.
BRUCE
Who’s “we”?
Matt turns now.
MATT
Me. You. Sean.
Bruce’s brow furrows.
BRUCE
Sean?
Sean shifts uncomfortably.
SEAN
Hey, Grandpa.
Bruce studies him like a stranger on a bus.
Then -- recognition flickers.
BRUCE
Right.
Sean.
Relief floods his face — too fast, too forced.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
You’ve gotten tall.
Sean glances at Matt, unsure.
SEAN
Yeah. Guess so.
Bruce picks up his fork. His hand trembles slightly.
Matt notices. Pretends not to.
Bruce suddenly SLAMS his fork down.
Not angry. Just loud.
Both Matt and Sean jump.
Bruce looks mortified.
BRUCE
Sorry. Sorry, I --
He presses his palms flat to the table, grounding himself.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
This house... it used to be louder.
Matt softens.
MATT
It still can be.
Bruce looks up at him.
Really looks.
BRUCE
You came back.
Matt meets his gaze.
MATT
Yeah.
A beat.
Bruce nods — like he’s storing that somewhere safe.
Sean pushes his eggs around.
SEAN
Are we gonna talk about what
happened last night?
Matt stiffens.
MATT
Nothing happened.
Sean looks up, sharp.
SEAN
I heard you scream again. More
nightmares?
Silence.
The pan SIZZLES, forgotten.
Bruce stares into his coffee.
Matt turns off the burner.
MATT
Yeah, more nightmares.
Bruce looks up suddenly.
BRUCE
Your dog. Artie.
Matt’s jaw tightens.
MATT
Yeah.
Bruce nods.
BRUCE
He was a good dog.
Matt swallows.
A long, quiet moment settles over the table -- three
generations bound by something unspoken.
Then Sean grabs his fork.
SEAN
These eggs are actually decent.
Matt exhales -- half a laugh.
MATT
High praise.
Bruce eats a bite. Smiles.
For a moment -- just a moment -- things feel normal.
Genres:
["Drama","Family"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
A Call for Help
INT. COLORADO PARKS AND WILDLIFE – SATELLITE OFFICE – MORNING
A small, utilitarian office.
Fluorescent lights. Scuffed linoleum. Mud-stained boots lined
up beneath a row of dented lockers.
No buzz. No chatter. Just the low HUM of a mini fridge and
the tick of a wall clock that’s a few minutes slow.
MATT LOCKWOOD (40s) sits alone at a metal desk near a window
that looks out on scrubland and distant cottonwoods, boots
propped up on the desk.
His weathered ostrich skin cowboy boots have seen better
days. Just like the man wearing them.
He nurses a burnt cup of coffee.
A folded NEWSPAPER lies open in front of him.
His eyes drift, unfocused -- then stop.
A headline catches:
“SECOND ROBBERY REPORTED IN CHERRY HILLS — POLICE HAVE NO
LEADS”
Matt exhales through his nose. Almost a laugh.
He reads the short column. Efficient. Bloodless.
Property taken. No injuries. No suspects.
He folds the paper once and sets it aside -- like something
he doesn’t want touching his hands anymore.
Matt leans back in his chair. The faint CREAK echoes too
loudly in the quiet office.
He glances at a corkboard on the wall --
Maps of the canal system. Handwritten notes. Red pushpins
clustered tighter than they should be.
Matt studies it.
The DESK PHONE RINGS.
Sharp. Startling.
Matt flinches before he can stop himself.
He picks up.
MATT
Parks and Wildlife. Officer
Lockwood.
A beat. Static on the line. Wind.
An older woman’s voice pushes through -- thin, shaken, trying
very hard to stay polite.
CAROLINE (V.O.)
Hello? Yes -- hi. I’m not sure
I’ve got the right number. I was
told to call Parks and Wildlife.
Matt straightens slightly.
MATT
You do. What seems to be the
problem, ma’am?
Another beat. A breath being gathered.
CAROLINE (V.O)
It’s my dog, Betsy. She’s -- she’s
gone.
Matt closes his eyes -- just for a second.
MATT
Okay. Tell me what happened.
Her voice trembles now, despite her effort to sound composed.
CAROLINE (V.O)
I let her out last night before
bed. She’s old, so I always wait by
the door until he’s back inside.
But… I must’ve gotten distracted. I don’t know. I must have.
Matt listens. Doesn’t interrupt.
CAROLINE (V.O.)
This morning I found her in the
backyard.
A pause. Something unspoken hanging in the silence.
CAROLINE VOLKER (V.O.)
What was left of her.
Matt’s jaw tightens.
MATT
I’m sorry.
She exhales -- relief at hearing that much.
CAROLINE (V.O.)
I think it was coyotes. That’s what
my neighbor said. They’ve been
getting bolder lately.
Matt glances again at the clustered pushpins on the map.
MATT
Did you see anything last night?
Hear anything?
CAROLINE (V.O.)
No. That’s what’s bothering me.
He didn’t bark. Not once.
Matt doesn’t respond immediately.
MATT
Where do you live, Caroline?
She gives the address.
Matt stands, already reaching for his jacket.
MATT (CONT’D)
I’m going to come take a look.
CAROLINE (V.O)
Oh -- thank you. I didn’t want to
bother anyone. I just... I wanted
to understand.
Matt hesitates, then chooses his words carefully.
MATT
Don’t touch anything in the yard.
And keep your doors locked.
A beat.
CAROLINE(V.O)
Of course.
The line clicks dead.
Matt lowers the phone slowly.
The office feels even quieter now.
As he heads for the door, the corkboard map catches his eye
one last time.
Matt exits.
The door shuts behind him with a dull, final THUD.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
The Methodical Predator
EXT. BACKYARD – DAY
A pristine backyard under clear Colorado sunlight.
Too clean.
Too normal.
White patio furniture. A bird feeder swaying gently in the
breeze.
Wind chimes CLICK softly, cheerful and out of place.
Matt steps through the open side gate and stops.
Doesn’t move forward yet.
Just looks.
The grass near the back fence is disturbed -- not torn up,
not chaotic.
Pressed flat.
As if something heavy waited there.
CAROLINE VOLKER (80s) stands near the patio door, wrapped in
a cardigan despite the warmth. She clutches a coffee mug with
both hands like it might shatter.
CAROLINE
Thank you for coming so quickly.
Matt nods, eyes never leaving the yard.
MATT
Where did you find him?
Caroline points.
Near the hedgerow -- where manicured lawn gives way to
something less controlled.
Matt approaches slowly, deliberately. Each step measured.
The smell hits first.
Not rot.
Not blood.
Something coppery. Animal. Feral.
At the edge of the hedges lies what remains of the COCKER
SPANIEL.
Or rather -- parts of it.
Matt crouches.
The body hasn’t been dragged.
Hasn’t been scattered.
It’s been worked.
The ribcage is exposed -- cleanly.
Too clean.
Matt studies the ground around it.
No frantic scuffing.
No wide scatter of fur.
No signs of a chase.
Coyotes leave chaos.
This is... orderly.
Matt notices something else.
The dog’s collar -- intact.
Still buckled.
Teeth marks pressed deep into the leather.
Matt gently touches the edge of the collar.
The indentation is wrong.
Too wide.
His eyes move to the grass beyond the body.
Tracks.
Not many.
Just enough.
Matt pulls a small ruler from his pocket and measures the
print without ceremony.
He exhales slowly.
Behind him, Caroline watches, reading his face.
CAROLINE
It was quick, wasn’t it?
Matt doesn’t answer immediately.
He rises and walks the perimeter of the yard.
Stops near the fence.
There -- the slightest bend in the chain-link.
Barely noticeable.
As if something passed through rather than over.
Matt looks beyond the fence.
The canal corridor looms just past the property line -- dry,
overgrown, quiet.
Waiting.
He turns back to Caroline.
MATT
Did your dog bark?
She shakes her head.
CAROLINE
He always barked. At squirrels. At
shadows. But last night... nothing.
Matt nods once.
That confirms it.
CAROLINE (CONT’D)
So… coyotes?
Matt chooses his words carefully.
MATT
Coyotes don’t do this.
A beat.
The wind chimes click again.
Caroline’s grip tightens on the mug.
CAROLINE
Then what does?
Matt looks back at the yard. At the hedges. At the canal
beyond.
MATT
Something that wasn’t hungry.
Something that wasn’t rushed.
Caroline swallows.
CAROLINE
Should I be afraid?
Matt meets her eyes.
He doesn’t lie.
MATT
I think it already knows it can be
here.
A long silence.
Somewhere far off — a bird SCREECHES and takes flight.
Matt straightens, resolve settling in.
MATT (CONT’D)
I need you to keep your doors
locked.
No pets outside. Not even during the day.
Caroline nods, shaken.
Matt takes one last look at the collar.
Then at the canal.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Tracks in the Shadows
EXT. CANAL – DAY
The dry canal -- a scar cutting through the landscape.
A wide, concrete trench bleached pale by the sun, cracked and
flaking.
No water. No movement.
On either side -- backyards give way to brush, cottonwoods,
and scrub. Civilization thinning out by the footstep.
Matt climbs down into the canal bed.
His boots hit dry concrete with a hollow CLACK that echoes
farther than it should.
He stops.
Listens.
Nothing.
Matt moves forward slowly, scanning the ground -- not looking
for chaos, but for order.
Near the base of the canal wall --
TRACKS.
Large. Deliberate.
Mountain lion.
The pads are clearly defined, pressed deep despite the dry
surface.
The animal carried weight. Confidence.
Matt crouches and studies them.
They move with purpose -- not wandering, not circling.
Following something.
Matt follows the tracks.
Ten feet ahead --
Another set of impressions intersects them.
BOOT PRINTS.
Human.
Heavy tread. Work boots. Deep heel marks.
Matt’s brow furrows.
The boot prints don’t avoid the animal tracks.
They merge.
Man and predator moving in the same direction.
Together.
Matt straightens slowly and looks down the canal corridor.
It stretches on -- a straight, hidden artery threading
beneath neighborhoods, golf courses, developments.
A perfect passageway.
Matt continues.
He spots something near the canal wall -- a faint glint half-
buried in dust and weeds.
He kneels.
Carefully brushes away grit --
A gold earring, bent, the clasp torn loose.
Out of place.
Matt holds it between his fingers.
Expensive. Tasteful. Not costume.
He scans the area.
No signs of struggle.
No blood.
No disturbance.
Just... dropped.
He slips it into his pocket.
He looks back down at the ground.
The mountain lion tracks continue.
So do the boot prints.
They don’t diverge.
They disappear together around a bend in the canal where
brush thickens -- shadows deepen.
His gaze drifts --
The world SHIFTS.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
A Carefree Adventure
EXT. MITCHELL HOUSE – DAY (FLASHBACK)
A modest, sun-warmed house.
Rose-yellow brick. Red asphalt shingles.
The canal churns through backyards thick with brush and tall
grass -- nature still winning.
Cottonwoods tower overhead.
The ROCKY MOUNTAINS loom -- closer. Wilder. Untouched.
YOUNG MATT (13) bursts out the back door, unstoppable energy.
ARTIE, a young German Shepherd, barrels after him.
On the patio:
CLARA MITCHELL, hands deep in dirt, watering lilacs.
BRUCE MITCHELL, younger, solid, safe -- a man who believes
the world behaves if you respect it.
MATT
I’m taking Artie for a run.
CLARA
Alright. Just be careful.
Bruce looks up from his book. Hesitates.
BRUCE
There’s already been a couple
sightings this summer --
Matt is already backing away, grinning.
MATT
I know, I know. I’ll be careful. I
promise.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Forbidden Exploration
EXT. STREET / CANAL TRAILHEAD – DAY
Matt jogs, Artie pulling ahead.
The HIGH LINE CANAL TRAILHEAD sign swings slightly in the
breeze.
Matt grabs the chain-link gate, jiggles the lock --
CREAK.
A sign rattles:
OWNED BY DENVER WATER – NO TRESPASSING
Matt slips through anyway.
EXT. CANAL TRAIL – DAY
A dirt track hugging the rushing water.
They jog past a red barn.
Past acres of scraped land.
A massive wooden sign looms:
COMING SOON – CHERRY RIDGE
A DIVISION OF CHERRY HILLS
Matt slows, catching his breath.
Looks up --
EXT. BARBED WIRE FENCE – DAY
A THICK BARBED WIRE FENCE.
Beyond it -- industrial buildings.
A smokestack belching TOXIC YELLOW PLUMES into the sky.
A warning sign:
U.S. ARMY – NO TRESPASSING
Matt stares. Uneasy.
ARTIE suddenly PULLS HARD.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Survival Instincts
EXT. BRUSH / WILDERNESS – DAY
Artie drags Matt off the trail.
MATT
Artie! Get back on the trail!
Too late.
Artie stops.
Sniffs.
The world goes DEAD QUIET.
No water.
No birds.
No wind.
Matt feels it before he sees it.
Behind him --
A MASSIVE MOUNTAIN LION steps from the brush.
Ten feet back.
Silent.
Its body fills the space like something summoned.
The animal’s eyes lock onto Matt.
Matt turns.
They freeze together.
Matt looks down at Artie.
Don’t bark.
Artie’s body trembles.
Then --
BARK.
The lion DROPS LOW.
Muscle coils. Rear legs pumping.
A guttural SNARL tears through the silence.
Then --
The lion HITS.
Matt goes down hard, the air ripped from his lungs.
Claws. Teeth. Weight.
The world becomes FUR AND BLOOD AND NOISE.
Matt struggles beneath it -- hands shaking, vision blurring.
The lion swipes --
A claw TEARS INTO MATT’S SHOULDER.
Blood sprays.
Artie lunges, teeth grazing the lion’s haunch.
The lion turns on him.
MATT (CONT’D)
Artie!
Artie circles — low, desperate —
Then LEAPS, jaws clamping onto the lion’s foot.
The lion ROARS.
Matt scrambles up --
Grabs a thick branch --
WHAM.
The lion stumbles back.
Matt and Artie RUN.
EXT. CANAL TRAIL – DAY
They burst onto the trail.
Matt stumbles.
Falls.
The world spins.
Blood pools beneath him.
Artie barks -- frantic, protective — standing over Matt.
A SHADOW rushes in --
A JOGGER drops to his knees.
JOGGER
Stay with me, buddy! You’re gonna
be okay!
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Echoes of the Past
EXT. CANAL – DAY (BACK TO PRESENT)
Matt snaps back.
He’s breathing hard.
The canal is dry again.
Silent.
He looks down at the ground.
At the tracks.
At the boot prints.
They overlap.
Matt touches the scar on his shoulder.
Matt stands there for a long moment.
Then -- far off, faint but unmistakable --
A LOW GROWL carries on the wind.
Matt doesn’t react outwardly.
But his hand tightens at his side.
He turns and heads back the way he came, boots echoing
against the dry canal floor.
The tracks remain.
Waiting.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Urgent Evidence
INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT – DETECTIVE BULLPEN – DAY
The bullpen is bright. Too bright.
Glass walls. Framed commendations. A coffee machine hums.
DETECTIVE KATE LEMON (40s) stands at a whiteboard, mid-
conversation with a UNIFORMED OFFICER, jotting notes with
practiced efficiency.
She’s sharp. Grounded. A cop who believes in order because
chaos takes too much energy.
Matt appears at the edge of the bullpen.
Kate clocks him immediately.
KATE
(to officer)
Hold that thought.
She caps the marker and turns.
KATE (CONT’D)
You look like you crawled out of a
ditch.
MATT
Close.
Kate gestures him toward her desk. They sit.
Matt doesn’t waste time.
MATT (CONT’D)
I just came from a wildlife call.
Backyard off Devonshire.
Kate leans back, folds her arms.
KATE
Coyotes again?
Matt shakes his head.
MATT
Mountain lion.
That lands -- but Kate keeps her face neutral.
KATE
We’ve had sightings for years.
Matt reaches into his pocket.
Sets the JEWELRY down between them.
A small, bent gold earring.
Kate looks at it. Doesn’t touch it yet.
KATE (CONT’D)
What am I looking at?
MATT
Found it in the canal corridor.
Same stretch where we’ve had the
last two burglaries.
Kate finally picks it up. Turns it over.
Professional curiosity sharpens.
KATE
You’re saying a lion robbed a
house?
Matt doesn’t smile.
MATT
I’m saying it didn’t act like an
animal.
And it wasn’t alone.
Kate studies him now.
KATE
You have boot prints?
MATT
Fresh. Same direction as the
tracks.
No sign of panic. No drag marks.
The dog never barked.
Kate sets the earring down slowly.
KATE
Okay. That’s... unusual.
Matt presses.
MATT
We need to close the canal trail.
Immediately.
Kate exhales -- not annoyed, but weary.
KATE
Matt, that trail is used by half
the town. Runners. Kids. Commuters.
You can’t shut it down on a hunch.
MATT
This isn’t a hunch.
KATE
It’s not a homicide. It’s not an
active shooter.
And right now, I don’t have a crime scene I can sell
upstairs.
Matt leans forward.
MATT
You will.
Kate holds his gaze.
KATE
Even if I agreed with you -- which
I don’t -- that call isn’t mine.
A beat.
KATE (CONT’D)
If you want that trail closed,
you’ll need sign-off from the
mayor.
Matt nods once. Expected.
MATT
Where can I find him?
Kate stands, already grabbing her jacket.
KATE
Right now? Smiling for cameras.
She heads toward the exit. Matt follows.
KATE (CONT’D)
Ribbon-cutting ceremony. New
library on Maple.
He’s been talking about it for weeks like it’s the Second
Coming.
They stop at the door.
Kate turns back to Matt.
KATE (CONT’D)
Just so we’re clear -- if you walk
into that event talking about
predators and shut-downs, he’s
going to hear panic, not
prevention.
Matt nods.
MATT
I’m used to that.
Kate studies him a moment longer.
KATE
Bring proof.
Not instincts.
Matt pockets the jewelry again.
MATT
Working on it.
He exits.
Kate watches him go -- uneasy now.
She glances down at the whiteboard behind her.
Two burglary addresses are circled in red.
A third space sits empty.
Kate lifts the marker.
Adds another circle.
Genres:
["Crime","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Ribbon-Cutting Tensions
EXT. LIBRARY – DAY
Blue sky. Clean air. A brand-new brick-and-glass library
gleams in the sun like a monument to good intentions.
A yellow ribbon stretches across the front steps.
A small CROWD gathers -- donors, city council members,
developers, local press. Smiling faces. Polite applause.
At the center of it all:
MAYOR THOMAS REYNOLDS (50s) -- silver-haired, immaculately
dressed, every inch a man who believes progress is fragile
and must be protected.
A PODIUM. MICROPHONES.
Matt stands at the edge of the crowd, jacket open, eyes
scanning.
He spots the mayor immediately.
And the mayor spots him.
A flicker of recognition. A pause. Then the mayor smiles --
the kind that doesn’t invite conversation, only postpones it.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
(over mic)
-- another proud moment for Cherry
Hills. A place where our children
can learn, grow, and feel safe.
Polite applause.
Matt steps forward as the mayor finishes.
The mayor steps away from the podium, scissors in hand,
photographers closing in.
Matt intercepts him just before the ribbon is cut.
MATT
Mayor Reynolds.
The mayor turns -- already annoyed, already calculating.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Detective Mitchell.
This isn’t exactly the setting for --
MATT
We need to close the canal trail.
The words land wrong. Too blunt. Too soon.
The mayor’s smile freezes -- then resets.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Today is about celebration.
He gestures toward the ribbon, the cameras.
MAYOR REYNOLDS (CONT’D)
Not fear.
Matt lowers his voice.
MATT
I’ve got confirmed mountain lion
activity inside residential yards.
Not sightings. Kills.
The mayor’s eyes flick -- not to Matt, but to the nearby
REPORTERS.
He steps closer, intimate now.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
We’ve coexisted with wildlife here
for decades.
MATT
This isn’t coexistence.
The mayor exhales slowly.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
You’re asking me to shut down the
most visible public amenity in this
city based on --
MATT
-- based on tracks, timing, and a
pattern you don’t want to
acknowledge.
A beat.
The mayor’s smile thins.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
And what happens when runners start
asking why? When parents pull their
kids out of programs? When donors
start making calls?
Matt doesn’t blink.
MATT
Then you tell them the truth.
The mayor almost laughs.
Almost.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
The truth is a luxury, Detective.
Stability is my job.
The MAYOR’S AIDE clears his throat nearby.
MAYOR’S AIDE
Sir, we’re ready.
The mayor nods -- then looks back at Matt.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
If I close that trail, I create
panic.
If I don’t, and something happens… I create outrage.
A pause.
MAYOR REYNOLDS (CONT’D)
One of those I can manage.
Matt leans in.
MATT
The canal doesn’t care what you can
manage.
That lands.
The mayor studies Matt -- sees the scarred shoulder, the
exhaustion, the certainty.
For just a moment, the mask slips.
Then the cameras CLICK.
The mayor turns, all charm again.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Let’s give the people what they
came for.
He raises the scissors.
Matt steps back as the ribbon is CUT.
Applause ERUPTS.
Flashbulbs POP.
Children CHEER.
The ribbon falls to the ground -- bright, severed.
Matt watches it hit the concrete.
Behind the smiles, behind the clapping --
The canal runs unseen.
Still open.
Still waiting.
Matt turns and walks away as the celebration continues
without him.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Dusk on the Porch
EXT. MITCHELL HOUSE – BACK PORCH – DUSK
The sun dips behind the trees, throwing long shadows across
the backyard.
The canal beyond is quiet.
Too quiet.
Matt steps out onto the porch carrying two pizza boxes, the
cardboard still warm. He sets them on the weathered picnic
table.
Sean sits already seated, hoodie pulled tight despite the
mild air, bike helmet resting beside him like a provocation.
Bruce eases into a chair opposite Sean, slow and careful,
eyes fixed on the yard as if waiting for it to do something.
Matt opens the boxes.
Pepperoni. Cheese.
Normal.
Matt hands Bruce a slice. Bruce accepts it with both hands.
BRUCE
Smells good.
MATT
Figured we’d keep it simple.
Bruce nods, pleased by that logic.
Sean grabs two slices at once.
SEAN
You’re late.
Matt sits.
MATT
Ran into some traffic.
Not a lie. Just incomplete.
They eat in silence for a moment.
Crickets start up. Wind through the cottonwoods.
Bruce chews slowly, studying the canal.
BRUCE
They used to let the water run
higher this time of year.
Matt glances at him.
MATT
Yeah?
BRUCE
Used to flood right up to that
fence line.
Lost a lawn chair once. Just carried it away.
Matt smiles faintly.
Sean wipes grease on a napkin.
SEAN
So what’d the mayor say?
Matt takes a bite. Considers.
MATT
He said no.
Sean snorts.
SEAN
Shocker.
MATT
He said we shouldn’t panic people.
Bruce frowns.
BRUCE
People should panic sometimes.
Matt looks at him, surprised.
MATT
Yeah?
Bruce nods, eyes never leaving the yard.
BRUCE
Keeps you alive.
A beat.
Sean leans back, pushes.
SEAN
So can I ride the canal tomorrow or
not?
Matt sets his slice down.
MATT
No.
Immediate.
Sean stiffens.
SEAN
Dad --
MATT
I said no.
SEAN
It’s the fastest way to get to
Kevin’s. Everyone rides it.
Matt keeps his voice even.
MATT
Everyone isn’t you.
Sean scoffs.
SEAN
That doesn’t make any sense.
MATT
It does to me.
Sean gestures at the darkening canal.
SEAN
You can’t just shut down half the
town because of some stupid animal.
Matt’s jaw tightens.
MATT
Watch it.
Bruce looks between them, confused now.
BRUCE
What animal?
Sean hesitates.
SEAN
There’s been... stuff.
Matt shoots Sean a look.
MATT
We’re not doing this.
Bruce sets his pizza down slowly.
BRUCE
I remember when they put that trail
in.
Matt freezes.
MATT
Dad --
BRUCE
They said it’d make everything
safer.
Cleaner. Controlled.
Bruce chuckles softly -- then stops.
His expression shifts.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
But it didn’t.
Matt watches him carefully now.
MATT
What didn’t?
Bruce looks at Matt.
Really looks.
BRUCE
Something followed the water.
Sean swallows.
SEAN
What do you mean?
Bruce blinks, disoriented.
BRUCE
I...
(beat)
I don’t know.
He rubs his temples, frustrated.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
I keep losing pieces.
Matt reaches across the table, steadies him.
MATT
It’s okay.
Bruce nods -- but his eyes don’t soften.
BRUCE
You were there.
Matt stiffens.
MATT
Where?
Bruce looks out at the canal again.
BRUCE
When it happened.
Silence presses in.
Sean looks between them.
SEAN
What happened?
Matt stands abruptly.
MATT
You’re not riding the canal. End of
discussion.
Sean pushes back his chair.
SEAN
You don’t get to just --
Matt turns on him.
Not yelling. Worse.
MATT
I get to keep you alive.
Sean falters.
SEAN
You don’t trust me.
Matt exhales, tired.
MATT
I don’t trust this place.
Bruce suddenly laughs -- sharp, wrong.
Both Matt and Sean turn.
Bruce’s eyes glisten.
BRUCE
It knows us.
Matt’s heart skips.
MATT
Dad.
Bruce shakes his head, embarrassed.
BRUCE
Sorry. Just... sometimes it feels
like it’s waiting.
Matt looks past him.
The canal has gone dark now.
A shape moves in the brush -- maybe nothing. Maybe not.
Matt gathers the pizza boxes.
MATT
We’re done out here.
Sean doesn’t argue this time.
Bruce stays seated a moment longer, staring.
Then he rises, slow and careful, like a man stepping away
from a ledge he can’t see.
They head inside.
The porch is left empty.
The night settles.
The canal listens.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Shadows in the Mist
EXT. CANAL TRAIL - DUSK
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGE looms like a wall of jagged stone.
Brutal. Ancient.
Everything is still.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
FOOTSTEPS. In rhythm.
A YOUNG WOMAN (20s), athletic, jogs alone on a gravel
recreation trail -- adjacent to the canal. Earbuds in. Hood
up.
Cottonwoods lean in.
Branches arch overhead like claws.
She runs deeper.
THROUGH THE TREES
A faint RUSTLE.
Behind a curtain of fog --
Something massive moves, flowing like liquid shadow.
BACK TO JOGGER
She slows -- posture tightening.
The pines around her exhale -- a soft, synchronized rustle,
like lungs filling.
Then stillness.
The forest... listening.
She quickens her pace.
THROUGH THE TREES
Her figure appears in fractured glimpses through the mist.
Then --
A low GROWL vibrates the air. Deep. Resonant.
BACK TO JOGGER
She stops. Pulls out one earbud --
Silence.
Her jaw tightens. Eyes dart.
Pulls out the second earbud --
The forest rushes in --
Wind in branches. A distant bird. Her breath.
Then --
Nothing.
She exhales. Laughs. Shaky.
Turns to go --
SNAP.
A branch behind her jerks violently, recoiling from pressure.
She spins --
Eyes wide. Scanning...
Nothing.
Then --
Sound DROPS AWAY, drenching the scene in an uneasy, eerie
silence.
She backs up a step...
Suddenly --
WHAM!
A MASSIVE SHAPE explodes from the trees in a blur of CLAWS
AND FANGS.
The shadowy creature SMASHES into her like a wave hitting the
shore.
She hits the ground -- hard.
She screams -- choked, guttural -- then slides into shadow.
The forest exhales.
Then --
Silence.
Stillness.
A single, blood-slick sneaker lies abandoned on the trail.
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Dreams of Adventure and Ominous Shadows
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
Matt gets into bed and turns off the light on his bedside
table.
EXT. ROOFTOP - DAY (DREAM SEQUENCE)
Matt (here 16) sits on a rusty metal lawn chair and holds a
BB gun at aluminum cans on the ledge -- CLICK. Misses.
The sky turns grey. In an instant, a raging thunderstorm
commences.
MATT
Aw, crap.
Matt gets soaked. He turns his gaze over the roof ledge at --
The rushing waters of the canal. He smiles.
INT. GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
Matt fills up a black inner-tube with a bike pump.
A gleeful Artie watches him and wags his tail with delight.
MATT
You can come too, Artie.
EXT. CANAL - MOMENTS LATER
Matt tubes down the fast flowing waters of the canal,
grinning from ear to ear. Artie paddles skillfully behind
him.
Then, we hear a familiar GROWL. The hairs stand up on the
back of Matt’s neck as he turns his gaze to a giant
cottonwood.
At its trunk is a dark tree hollow, wherein --
TWO PIERCING RED EYES STARE BACK.
END DREAM SEQUENCE
CUT HARD TO:
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Haunted Reflections
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
Matts bolts upright, awakening from a nightmare.
He steps over to the window and peaks through the slats of
the blinds. Only darkness meets his gaze.
Matt looks down at a box full of pictures and memorabilia.
He picks up a framed NAVY SEAL TRIDENT with a folded American
flag behind it.
Matt stares at the trident, lost in thought.
INT. BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Matt turns on the light and looks at his own tired
reflection. Doesn’t much like what he sees -- a deep scar of
claw marks streaked across his shoulder.
His torso and arms are peppered with various military
tattoos, but they still can’t mask the injury. He rubs his
fingers over it.
Four or five prescription bottles dot the ledge of the
bathroom sink.
He picks a bottle up, takes out a pill, and pops it.
He closes the bottle back up gives it a shake -- only a
couple left. Matt sighs and turns off the light.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Morning Reflections
INT. KITCHEN – MORNING
Early light filters through the blinds, pale and brittle.
Matt stands at the sink, half-awake, haunted.
He turns the faucet.
Water pours into a glass.
He stops it halfway.
Watches the water settle. Still. Clear.
Matt lifts the glass -- weighs it in his hand.
Something about it doesn’t sit right.
He looks out the window.
The backyard lies quiet.
Beyond it -- the canal.
Dry. Cracked. Empty.
A concrete wound cutting through the earth.
Matt turns back to the sink.
Opens the faucet again.
The water climbs -- higher, higher -- until the glass is
full, trembling at the edge of overflow.
He shuts it off.
Studies the surface tension. One wrong move and it spills.
Matt sets the glass down carefully.
A beat.
He picks up the newspaper from the counter and carries it to
the table.
As he sits, SEAN shuffles in, hair a mess, still wearing
yesterday’s hoodie.
Sean grabs a bowl, pours cereal. Too much.
Milk follows -- flooding the bowl until it laps over the rim
and spills onto the counter.
Sean barely notices.
MATT
Morning.
SEAN
Hey.
Sean wipes the milk with his sleeve, brings the bowl to the
table, starts eating.
Crunch. Slurp.
Matt opens the paper.
Then stops.
His eyes fix on the page -- not the headline, but a small map
graphic tucked beside the article.
A charity gala. Downtown. Well-funded. Well-lit.
Infrastructure. Flow.
Matt folds the paper -- slow, deliberate — and slides it
toward Sean.
The headline faces him:
“CHARITY GALA HONORING DEBRA AND MARTIN GLOVER TO BE HELD AT
THE BUELL THEATRE THIS FRIDAY.”
Sean barely looks up.
SEAN
What’s that?
Matt’s eyes drift back to the window.
To the canal.
MATT
People like things where they can
see them.
Sean shrugs, mouth full.
SEAN
It’s just a party.
Matt looks down at his full glass of water.
At the untouched cereal milk spreading across the table.
Then -- realization clicks.
Not sudden.
Not loud.
Cold.
MATT
(low, to himself)
They go where the water doesn’t.
Sean looks up now.
SEAN
What?
Matt doesn’t answer.
His gaze locks onto the dry canal outside — a perfect, empty
artery running straight through the town.
A place where nothing flows.
Except predators.
Matt stands.
The chair legs scrape sharply against the floor.
SEAN (CONT’D)
Dad?
Matt grabs his jacket from the back of the chair.
The glass of water trembles — then finally spills, a thin
stream sliding across the table and dripping onto the floor.
Matt doesn’t notice.
He’s already moving.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Reflections of Abundance
EXT. DENVER WATER COMPANY – DAY
A Romanesque rotunda, all pale stone and civic pride.
At its center: a fountain -- water spilling endlessly,
indifferent to scarcity.
Matt stands beside it, still, watching the water cycle back
into itself.
Above him, carved into the ceiling:
“AND MEN SHALL FASHION GLACIERS INTO GREENNESS
AND HARVEST APRIL RIVERS IN THE AUTUMN.”
Matt squints at the words.
A YOUNG ASSISTANT (20s), polished and pleasant, approaches.
ASSISTANT
Good morning, Detective. Mr. Dent
can see you now.
Matt gives the fountain one last look — the excess — then
follows.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Tension at the Canal
INT. OFFICE – DAY
Glass. Steel. Mountains framed perfectly in the windows like
curated art.
WALTER DENT (50s), silver-haired, calm, sits behind a
spotless desk.
He looks less like a public servant and more like someone who
answers to shareholders.
Matt sits opposite him -- rigid, coiled.
WALTER
How can I assist you, officer?
MATT
I’m investigating animal activity
along the High Line Canal.
I was hoping you could help me understand why it’s dry.
Walter considers him -- polite, curious, already deciding how
much to give.
WALTER
Of course.
He stands, crosses the room to a sleek water dispenser.
Fills a tall glass to the brim.
WALTER (CONT’D)
We’re in the middle of a historic
drought.
Every gallon has to justify itself.
He drinks. Unhurried. Refreshing.
MATT
Funny thing about droughts.
They don’t stop predators from moving.
Walter smiles faintly.
WALTER
The canal hasn’t been used for
irrigation in years.
Which makes it --
(turns)
-- a liability.
He returns to his desk, sits.
WALTER (CONT’D)
Frankly, the High Line is a relic.
An open wound we keep pretending is romantic.
MATT
That “relic” feeds the Rocky Flats
wildlife refuge.
Walter doesn’t miss a beat.
WALTER
My mandate is conservation.
Not wildlife preservation.
Matt studies him.
MATT
I thought the canal drew from the
Platte.
WALTER
It does. When it can.
A small shrug.
WALTER (CONT’D)
Right now, the river’s too low.
A beat.
WALTER (CONT’D)
May I ask what this has to do with
your investigation?
Matt leans forward now.
MATT
The canal’s become a corridor.
No water. No witnesses. It runs
straight through Cherry Hills.
Walter listens. Barely reacts.
MATT (CONT’D)
Whatever’s killing pets...
Whatever’s breaking into homes...
It’s using the canal to move
unseen.
Walter folds his hands.
WALTER
That sounds like a policing issue.
Or animal control.
MATT
It’s a water issue.
Walter’s smile thins -- just a hair.
WALTER
Once we get sufficient rainfall,
the canal will flow again.
A pause.
WALTER (CONT’D)
Until then -- nature adapts.
Matt absorbs that.
Then --
His PHONE BUZZES.
He glances at it.
OFFICER LEMON (V.O.)
Matt... we’ve got a situation.
Matt straightens.
MATT
Where?
LEMON (V.O.)
Jogger went missing off the canal
trail near Dayton.
It looks like a mountain lion attack.
Matt closes his eyes.
LEMON (V.O.)
But I’m not the expert.
And we still haven’t found the body.
That lands.
Matt stands.
MATT
I’m on my way.
He ends the call.
Walter watches him — curious now.
WALTER
Everything alright?
Matt grabs his jacket.
MATT
Someone just vanished in the
corridor you called a nuisance.
Walter doesn’t rise.
WALTER
I’m sorry to hear that.
Matt heads for the door.
Stops.
Turns back.
MATT
When the water comes back...
It doesn’t just fill space.
Walter meets his eyes.
MATT (CONT’D)
It changes behavior.
A beat.
Walter says nothing.
Matt exits.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Silent Clues
EXT. CANAL TRAIL – DAY
Blue sky. Crisp light. Joggers should be everywhere.
They aren’t.
POLICE TAPE flutters gently between cottonwoods, its color
obscene against the calm.
A small cluster of SQUAD CARS sit parked off the trail --
engines off, lights dark.
Matt’s truck pulls up.
He steps out.
Doesn’t rush.
The moment his boots hit gravel, the sound changes -- muted,
hollow. Like the land itself has gone quiet.
Matt ducks under the tape.
Ahead, Officer Lemon stands with two UNIFORMS.
No one speaks.
They don’t need to.
Matt follows their line of sight.
The trail bends ahead -- where the canal slips behind brush
and shadow.
Matt walks.
Each step measured.
Gravel crunches underfoot -- too loud.
He stops.
At the edge of the trail -- a single running shoe.
Blood-darkened. Twisted wrong.
The laces are still tied.
Matt crouches.
Doesn’t touch it.
Studies the ground around it.
No drag marks.
No struggle.
Just a sudden absence -- as if the runner stepped off the
earth.
Matt straightens.
Looks toward the canal.
Dry concrete stretches out below -- pale, cracked, stripped
of life.
At the base of the canal wall --
TRACKS.
Large. Clean. Deliberate.
Mountain lion.
They run parallel to the trail for a stretch...
Then angle inward.
Matt follows them with his eyes.
Halfway down the canal --
Something glints.
He climbs down.
Boots CLACK against concrete -- echoing far too much.
He kneels.
It’s an earbud.
Still warm from the sun.
The cord trails away -- snapped.
Matt looks up.
The canal curves gently ahead -- a blind bend.
Perfect cover.
Beyond it, the corridor continues uninterrupted -- under
roads, behind houses, through the town like a hidden vein.
Matt stands there -- alone in the trench now.
Above him, the world continues:
A distant lawnmower.
A dog barking somewhere safe.
Traffic humming.
Down here --
Nothing.
Matt touches the concrete wall.
Feels the heat radiating off it.
Too hot.
Too open.
Too empty.
This place was never meant to be dry.
He looks back toward the trail.
Officer Lemon watches him -- pale, shaken, waiting.
Matt climbs out.
Meets her eyes.
She opens her mouth to speak.
Matt gently shakes his head.
Not yet.
He walks past her -- further down the trail.
The officers exchange looks, uneasy.
Matt stops again.
There -- half-hidden in tall grass where the canal rejoins
the neighborhood —
A smear of blood.
Not sprayed.
Not chaotic.
Pressed into the ground.
Like something was set down.
Then lifted.
Matt exhales slowly.
This wasn’t a chase.
This was a pickup.
He turns back to Lemon now.
Their eyes lock.
She understands without him saying a word.
OFFICER LEMON
(quiet, barely there)
No body.
Matt nods.
MATT
Not here.
He looks down the canal one last time.
The empty artery.
The perfect passageway.
MATT (CONT’D)
It didn’t take her into the wild.
Lemon swallows.
MATT (CONT’D)
It took her home.
Matt walks away -- already moving, already thinking.
Behind him, the shoe remains.
Waiting.
The canal listens.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
The Unseen Threat
EXT. CANAL CORRIDOR / BRUSH LINE – DAY
The canal narrows here.
Concrete gives way to dirt, reeds, and unmanaged growth --
where the city stops pretending it’s in control.
Matt moves slowly along the edge.
Officer Lemon follows a few paces back.
No one speaks.
The air feels heavier here.
Muted.
Matt stops.
Kneels.
At first, it’s just disturbed grass — pressed down, not torn.
Like something heavy rested there.
Then he sees it.
A scrape in the dirt.
Not clawed.
Dragged.
Matt follows the line with his eyes.
Ten feet ahead — partially concealed by reeds —
A HUMAN HAND.
Still.
Palm-up.
The skin pale. Fingers slack.
Officer Lemon freezes.
The uniforms halt instinctively.
Matt rises slowly.
Approaches.
The jogger lies set back from the trail, tucked into the
brush where the canal bends toward open land.
Her body is intact.
Too intact.
No scattered remains.
No feeding frenzy.
Just --
The chest cavity collapsed inward.
Neck broken clean.
Efficient.
Matt crouches beside her.
Doesn’t touch.
Studies.
The face is peaceful in a way that doesn’t belong here.
Officer Lemon steps closer — stops herself short.
OFFICER LEMON
Oh my god...
Matt’s eyes move to the ground around the body.
Tracks.
Clear now.
Large.
Mountain lion.
But something’s wrong.
The prints don’t circle.
They don’t hesitate.
They point one way.
Matt stands.
Follows the direction of the tracks.
They lead away from the neighborhood.
Away from the houses.
Toward open land.
Officer Lemon watches him -- then looks where he’s looking.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
Where are they coming from?
Matt doesn’t answer immediately.
He studies the horizon beyond the canal -- scrubland rolling
outward, thinning into something harsher.
Something older.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
Matt?
He points.
MATT
Not the foothills. Not the
mountains.
He lowers his hand slightly -- to the flat sprawl beyond.
MATT (CONT’D)
The refuge.
Officer Lemon frowns.
OFFICER LEMON
Rocky Flats?
Matt nods once.
MATT
It’s the only place left that
hasn’t been touched.
She looks back at the body.
OFFICER LEMON
That’s protected land.
MATT
Exactly.
He looks down at the tracks again.
MATT (CONT’D)
Plenty of cover.
No people.
No predators left bigger than them.
A beat.
OFFICER LEMON
So why now?
Matt stares at the dry canal.
MATT
Because we cut off the water.
The realization spreads across her face.
OFFICER LEMON
And they followed it.
Matt nods.
MATT
Water teaches movement.
So does its absence.
He turns back to the jogger.
Her body already feels like a message.
MATT (CONT’D)
This wasn’t a hunt.
Officer Lemon swallows.
OFFICER LEMON
Then what was it?
Matt meets her eyes.
MATT
A test.
Silence presses in.
Somewhere far off -- wind moves through tall grass.
The tracks continue onward.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Common Ground
INT. ROCKY FLATS FIELD OFFICE – DAY
A modest office dressed up to feel official.
Government-issue furniture. Fluorescent hum. No windows.
RUSS MCCARTHY (50s) sits behind his desk -- thick neck, heavy
hands, posture of someone who’s been told when to use force
and when to wait.
Matt stands across from him. Doesn’t sit yet.
MATT
Appreciate you making the time,
Russ.
Russ studies him. Doesn’t invite him to sit.
RUSS
I heard about the jogger.
A beat.
RUSS (CONT’D)
Cherry Hills isn’t my problem.
Matt glances past Russ -- to the wall.
Navy commendations. Bronze stars. A folded flag.
Matt nods once.
MATT
You Navy?
Russ clocks the look.
RUSS
Three tours.
Matt finally sits.
MATT
Same.
Russ leans back now. Recalculating.
RUSS
Where’d they break you?
MATT
They didn’t.
Russ almost smiles.
Almost.
RUSS
You asking about lions…
-- or about land?
Matt doesn’t answer.
Russ exhales through his nose.
RUSS (CONT’D)
Get your jacket.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Through the Layers of History
INT. RUSS’S TRUCK – DAY
A government truck that’s seen better decades.
They roll through open prairie, wind pushing the grass in
long, nervous waves.
Russ drives. Matt watches the land.
RUSS
You ever been out here?
MATT
Drove past it.
RUSS
Most folks do.
A beat.
RUSS (CONT’D)
That’s by design.
They pass a rusted structure half-swallowed by weeds.
Matt clocks it.
MATT
Used to be something.
RUSS
Everything out here used to be
something.
Silence stretches.
The truck bumps over rough terrain.
RUSS (CONT’D)
When the arsenal shut down, they
had choices.
Matt looks at him.
RUSS (CONT’D)
They chose cheap.
Matt nods. He understands that language.
MATT
My dad used to say they could’ve
ended the world from this place.
Russ doesn’t look at him.
RUSS
People say a lot of things.
Then --
RUSS (CONT’D)
Some of them aren’t wrong.
They approach a military checkpoint.
Russ slows. Rolls down the window.
A SOLDIER steps forward.
RUSS (CONT’D)
McCarthy. Fish and Wildlife.
Matt flashes his badge.
The soldier studies them -- then opens the gate.
As they pass through, Matt notices the layers of fencing
beyond.
Old. New. Old again.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Desolation at Rocky Flats
EXT. ROCKY FLATS – DAY
The truck moves through endless shortgrass prairie.
No birds.
No insects.
Just wind.
RUSS
Ten thousand acres.
Matt looks out.
MATT
Doesn’t feel alive.
RUSS
It isn’t dead either.
That hangs.
They pass a distant, fenced-off basin -- water that doesn’t
reflect the sky correctly.
Matt notices.
MATT
That area still restricted?
Russ keeps driving.
RUSS
Some things don’t like being
disturbed.
Matt lets that sit.
MATT
Denver Water says the groundwater’s
clean.
Russ snorts.
RUSS
Denver Water says a lot of things.
He taps the dashboard.
RUSS (CONT’D)
Independent tests take longer.
Matt looks at him.
MATT
And until then?
Russ finally glances over.
RUSS
Until then, animals do what animals
do.
The truck slows.
Stops.
They step out.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Secrets of the Empty Prairie
EXT. PRAIRIE – CONTINUOUS
Nothing but grass in every direction.
Too quiet.
Matt listens.
No birds.
No movement.
MATT
I don’t see anything.
Russ nods.
RUSS
That’s the part that should worry
you.
Matt scans the horizon again.
MATT
Where’d it all go?
Russ crouches. Runs a hand through the dirt.
Lets it sift through his fingers.
RUSS
Away from here.
Matt connects the dots.
MATT
Toward people.
Russ stands.
RUSS
Food. Water. Cover.
Matt exhales.
MATT
And predators followed.
RUSS
Predators always do.
Something catches Matt’s eye near his boot.
A glint.
He bends.
A penny, half-buried.
He picks it up.
MATT
Lucky.
Russ watches him.
RUSS
Depends who you ask.
Matt wipes it clean.
MATT
Nineteen forty two.
Russ nods.
RUSS
Year they started burying things
out here they didn’t want to talk
about.
Matt flips the coin.
It lands in the dirt.
Doesn’t shine anymore.
Matt straightens.
MATT
Appreciate the tour.
RUSS
If you’re hunting lions --
Matt meets his eyes.
RUSS (CONT’D)
-- start with who moved the water.
Matt nods.
Turns back toward the truck.
Behind them, the prairie rolls on -- empty, watchful,
patient.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Confrontation in the Mayor's Office
INT. MAYOR’S OFFICE – DAY
A corner office high above Cherry Hills.
Glass walls. Natural light. Carefully framed mountain views --
the kind that suggest stewardship without requiring it.
Mayor Reynolds stands near the window, mid-conversation with
GLOVER THOMPSON (50s) -- trim, confident, dressed in a way
that suggests money without admitting it.
Glover gestures out toward the view like it belongs to him.
GLOVER
People don’t move here for square
footage, Tom.
They move here for the illusion of space.
The Mayor smiles politely.
A KNOCK.
Before either man answers --
The door opens.
Matt steps in.
Doesn’t apologize.
Doesn’t hesitate.
The room stiffens.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Officer --
MATT
We need to shut down the canal.
Glover turns now. Takes Matt in -- calm, curious, amused.
GLOVER
I’m sorry, am I interrupting?
Matt doesn’t look at him.
MATT
Yes.
The Mayor clears his throat.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Detective Mitchell, this is --
MATT
Martin Glover.
Matt finally looks at him.
A flicker of recognition passes between them.
MATT (CONT’D)
Your charity gala’s Friday.
Glover smiles -- practiced.
GLOVER
You’ll forgive me if I don’t see
how that’s relevant.
Matt steps farther into the office.
Closes the door behind him.
The click is loud.
MATT
We recovered the jogger.
Silence.
The Mayor’s smile fades.
Glover’s doesn’t.
GLOVER
That’s terrible.
A beat.
GLOVER (CONT’D)
Was it... wildlife?
Matt watches him closely.
MATT
Mountain lion.
The Mayor exhales.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Matt, we’ve been over this --
MATT
It carried her four blocks through
the canal.
That lands.
Glover’s eyes sharpen -- just slightly.
MATT (CONT’D)
No drag marks.
No chase.
It used the corridor.
The Mayor looks at Glover now.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Martin—
Glover raises a hand.
GLOVER
Let him finish.
Matt continues.
MATT
Rocky Flats is empty.
No water. No prey.
He steps closer.
MATT (CONT’D)
Everything moved downhill.
Into neighborhoods.
Glover nods slowly, like this confirms something.
GLOVER
That land’s been a problem for
decades.
Matt locks onto that.
MATT
Funny way to say that.
The Mayor stiffens.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Detective, this is not the forum --
MATT
I’m asking you to close the canal.
Today.
He doesn’t raise his voice.
Doesn’t need to.
MATT (CONT’D)
And I want a press conference.
The Mayor blinks.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
A what?
MATT
You tell the public the truth.
You tell them why it’s dangerous.
Glover steps in smoothly.
GLOVER
With respect -- panic is
contagious.
Matt turns on him now.
MATT
So are predators.
A beat.
Glover doesn’t flinch.
GLOVER
The canal is an amenity.
It’s part of the town’s value.
Matt nods.
MATT
Exactly.
That hits.
The Mayor rubs his temples.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
If I shut it down, I tank property
values overnight.
Matt holds his gaze.
MATT
Or you wait until a kid disappears.
Silence presses in.
Glover watches the Mayor carefully.
GLOVER
Tom…
We can address this quietly.
Matt snaps his eyes to him.
MATT
Quiet is how we got here.
Glover’s smile tightens.
GLOVER
Detective, I’ve invested a great
deal in this community.
Matt steps closer -- invading his space now.
MATT
Then invest in closing the canal.
The Mayor looks between them -- trapped.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
We’ll increase patrols.
Signage. Lighting.
Matt shakes his head.
MATT
You’re teaching it where to hunt.
Glover’s eyes flick -- just once.
A tell.
MATT (CONT’D)
You already know that.
Glover meets his gaze evenly.
GLOVER
What I know is that land doesn’t
stay empty forever.
Matt realizes something.
The canal isn’t the endgame.
It’s the transition.
MATT
You’re waiting for it to clear.
Glover smiles again.
GLOVER
I’m waiting for solutions.
Matt turns back to the Mayor.
MATT
Close it.
Or the next press conference won’t be yours.
The Mayor swallows.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
I can’t.
That’s it.
Matt nods -- accepting it.
He heads for the door.
Stops.
Turns back.
MATT
Then when it happens again --
He looks at both men.
MATT (CONT’D)
-- don’t call it an accident.
Matt exits.
The door closes.
Silence.
Glover exhales, relaxed again.
GLOVER
He’s not wrong.
The Mayor looks at him, stunned.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Then why --
Glover turns back to the window.
To the land.
GLOVER
Because sometimes pressure is
useful.
The canal runs unseen below.
Waiting.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Tension at the Bar
INT. ROADSIDE BAR – NIGHT
Low ceiling. Old wood. Neon beer signs that hum more than
glow.
A place built for men who don’t talk about work.
The bar is half-full — construction boots, sunburnt faces,
quiet laughter that dies fast.
Matt sits in a corner booth, jacket draped beside him. A beer
in front of him he hasn’t touched.
Across from him: Officer Lemon, uniform jacket off, sleeves
rolled. Nursing a whiskey. Ice clinks once. Stops.
A moment passes where neither speaks.
Finally --
OFFICER LEMON
You ever notice how people only come in here when something’s
already gone wrong?
Matt doesn’t look up.
MATT
Yeah.
He nudges his beer slightly. Still doesn’t drink.
OFFICER LEMON
You okay?
Matt considers lying. Doesn’t.
MATT
I’m trying to decide which part I’m
allowed to say out loud.
Kate studies him -- not amused, not alarmed. Curious.
OFFICER LEMON
Start with the part you think I
already know.
Matt exhales.
MATT
The lion didn’t wander in.
She nods. She’s ahead of him.
OFFICER LEMON
That was my first thought too.
Matt finally looks up.
MATT
Then you watched the footage?
OFFICER LEMON
I watched the shoe.
(beat)
I watched how it was placed.
She takes a sip.
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
Predators don’t leave punctuation.
Matt’s mouth tightens. Respect.
MATT
It used the canal like a spine.
Kate leans back.
OFFICER LEMON
And the robberies?
Matt hesitates — measuring how much to give.
MATT
They follow the same rules.
She waits. Lets him hang himself if he’s going to.
MATT (CONT’D)
No water. No witnesses.
Straight lines. Easy exits.
Kate’s eyes sharpen.
OFFICER LEMON
You’re saying the lion didn’t learn
that on its own.
MATT
I’m saying pressure teaches
efficiency.
He finally takes a drink. Small. Controlled.
MATT (CONT’D)
We drained the canal.
We stripped the refuge.
We lit up the neighborhoods and called it safety.
Kate absorbs this.
OFFICER LEMON
And everything that didn’t belong…
adapted.
Matt nods.
MATT
Including us.
A beat.
The bar noise swells slightly -- laughter at the far end, a
pool break cracking sharp.
Kate sets her glass down.
OFFICER LEMON
So what’s your theory?
Matt leans forward now. Lowers his voice.
MATT
The lion isn’t hunting.
She frowns.
OFFICER LEMON
It killed a jogger.
MATT
It tested a boundary.
Kate doesn’t like that.
OFFICER LEMON
That sounds like semantics.
Matt shakes his head.
MATT
A hunt is messy.
This was transport.
She goes still.
OFFICER LEMON
Transport… where?
Matt looks past her -- to the dark window, the road beyond.
MATT
Away from where it started.
Toward where it could move unseen.
Kate’s jaw tightens.
OFFICER LEMON
You think it’s being used.
Matt doesn’t answer immediately.
MATT
I think it’s being tolerated.
That lands heavier.
Kate leans back, crosses her arms.
OFFICER LEMON
By who?
Matt meets her eyes.
MATT
By anyone who benefits from
pressure.
Silence stretches.
Finally --
OFFICER LEMON
That’s a big accusation.
MATT
So is calling a body an accident.
She exhales slowly.
OFFICER LEMON
You tell the chief any of this?
MATT
Not yet.
OFFICER LEMON
Why me?
Matt hesitates — this one’s personal.
MATT
Because you look at evidence like
it matters.
And because when you found her…
(beat)
You didn’t ask me what it was.
You asked me where it came from.
Kate absorbs that.
She picks up her glass. Doesn’t drink.
OFFICER LEMON
You know if you’re wrong, this
ruins you.
Matt nods.
MATT
I know.
OFFICER LEMON
And if you’re right?
Matt’s voice drops.
MATT
Then someone’s already decided what
they’re willing to lose.
Kate studies him -- the scar, the exhaustion, the certainty.
OFFICER LEMON
What do you need?
Matt doesn’t hesitate.
MATT
Time.
She almost laughs.
OFFICER LEMON
That’s the one thing no one gives.
Matt stands, grabs his jacket.
MATT
Then we take it.
Kate watches him for a beat.
Then --
She slides out of the booth.
OFFICER LEMON
I get off shift at two.
Matt nods once.
MATT
Don’t walk the canal.
She gives him a look.
OFFICER LEMON
I won’t.
As Matt turns toward the door --
LEMON
Matt?
He stops.
OFFICER LEMON
If this thing’s learning us...
(beat)
OFFICER LEMON (CONT’D)
What happens when it figures out
we’re lying?
Matt doesn’t turn back.
MATT
Then it stops being patient.
He exits.
Kate sits alone in the booth now.
Outside, a truck passes.
The neon sign flickers.
The bar hums on -- unaware.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Night of Shadows
EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL –NIGHT
Moonless.
No ambient city glow here — just darkness layered on
darkness.
A CHAIN-LINK SERVICE GATE rattles softly.
A pair of gloved hands slip through the fence, unlatch it
from the inside.
The gate opens just wide enough.
Two MEN emerge from the shadows:
ROBBER #1 (30s) — lean, alert, carrying a compact duffel.
ROBBER #2 (40s) — heavier, cautious, scanning constantly.
They move with familiarity. Not rushed. Not sloppy.
This isn’t their first time.
They step down into the DRY CANAL BED.
Concrete absorbs their footsteps — dull, swallowed.
Robber #2 clicks on a SMALL FLASHLIGHT, keeps it angled low.
A narrow cone of light slides across cracked concrete.
ROBBER #2
(quiet)
You sure the alarms are dead?
Robber #1 checks his watch.
ROBBER #1
Two minutes. Same as last time.
They move.
The canal stretches ahead — a long, straight artery vanishing
into black.
Too straight.
Too quiet.
They pass a storm drain outlet — metal grate rusted, bent
outward.
Robber #2 pauses.
ROBBER #2 (CONT’D)
You hear that?
They stop.
Listen.
Nothing.
Just the distant, muffled hum of traffic far above — life
continuing, oblivious.
Robber #1 exhales.
ROBBER #1
Wind in the brush.
They continue.
The flashlight beam catches something ahead.
A DARK SHAPE near the canal wall.
Robber #2 slows.
ROBBER #2
What’s that?
Robber #1 raises a hand.
They approach cautiously.
The light settles.
It’s a SINGLE RUNNING SHOE.
Blood-darkened.
The laces still tied.
Neither man speaks.
The canal seems to hold its breath.
Robber #2 swallows.
ROBBER #2 (CONT’D)
That wasn’t here last week.
Robber #1 scans the walls, the brush above, the shadows
between concrete seams.
ROBBER #1
Someone ditched it.
But he doesn’t believe that.
They move again — faster now, tension coiling.
Up ahead, the canal curves slightly — brush thickens where
concrete gives way to dirt.
The flashlight flickers across TRACKS.
Large.
Round.
Pressed deep despite the dry surface.
Robber #2 stops dead.
ROBBER #2
Those aren’t dogs.
Robber #1 kneels, studies them.
Doesn’t need long.
ROBBER #1
Mountain lion.
A beat.
ROBBER #2
We’re not in the foothills.
Robber #1 straightens.
ROBBER #1
Neither is it.
They exchange a look — not panic, but calculation.
Robber #2 starts backing up.
ROBBER #2
We pull out. Now.
A SOUND.
Not loud.
Not sudden.
A LOW, RESONANT GROWL rolls through the canal — felt more
than heard.
It comes from ahead.
From the bend.
The flashlight beam trembles.
Robber #1 raises his hand — freezes him.
The growl stops.
Silence slams back into place.
Robber #2 whispers —
ROBBER #2
You hear that breathing?
They listen.
A faint EXHALE — slow, controlled.
Not hiding.
Waiting.
Robber #1 slowly clicks the flashlight off.
Darkness swallows everything.
They stand motionless, blind.
Another sound —
A SOFT SCRAPE of claw against concrete.
Closer now.
Robber #2’s voice cracks.
ROBBER #2 (CONT’D)
It knows we’re here.
Robber #1 shakes his head — barely visible.
ROBBER #1
It knew before we did.
A SHADOW shifts at the far end of the canal — barely a
distortion against deeper black.
A glint.
RED EYES.
Not charging.
Not retreating.
Assessing.
The lion steps forward just enough for moonlight to catch its
outline —
Massive.
Scarred.
Muscle rolling beneath its coat.
The men don’t move.
They don’t run.
They don’t reach for weapons.
They understand instinctively:
Running would invite the math.
The lion tilts its head.
Sniffs.
Human scent.
Oil.
Metal.
Fear.
Then —
Something else draws its attention.
A sound from above — a distant car door slam. Voices.
Laughter.
The lion’s ears twitch.
Its body shifts — tension redirecting.
The shadow turns sideways.
One last look at the men.
Not a threat.
A calculation.
Then the lion melts into the brush — silent, deliberate —
disappearing up the canal wall where darkness thickens.
Gone.
The canal exhales.
Robber #2 collapses to his knees.
ROBBER #2
Jesus Christ...
Robber #1 doesn’t relax.
He stares at where the lion vanished.
ROBBER #1
We’re done.
ROBBER #2
With tonight?
Robber #1 shakes his head.
ROBBER #1
With this place.
They don’t notice -- behind them --
Fresh BOOT PRINTS appear beside the lion’s tracks.
Someone else has already been here.
Watching.
Genres:
["Thriller","Crime","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
A Haunting Silence
INT. MITCHELL HOUSE – NIGHT
The front door OPENS.
Matt steps inside.
Something’s wrong immediately.
No lights on.
No television murmur.
No Bruce humming to himself in the kitchen.
No Sean’s music bleeding through headphones.
Just silence.
Matt freezes in the doorway, listening.
Nothing.
He closes the door slowly behind him.
The house feels larger than it should.
Matt moves down the hallway, boots soft on wood.
KITCHEN
Empty.
The overhead light is off — but the counter lamp is on, left
burning.
Matt clocks that.
A PIZZA BOX still sits on the counter from earlier. Cold now.
Untouched.
Matt sets his keys down.
MATT
Sean?
No answer.
He crosses into the LIVING ROOM.
The couch cushions are disturbed — recently used.
Bruce’s blanket lies folded too neatly at the end of the
couch.
Matt stops.
On the coffee table:
A NOTE.
Folded once. Plain printer paper. Rushed.
Matt picks it up.
Unfolds.
We don’t see the words yet — just Matt’s face as he reads.
It drains.
Not panic.
Something colder.
He reads it again.
Then we see it:
Matt —
Sean got scared.
We’re at St. Anthony’s.
I didn’t want to wait.
— Dad
Matt’s jaw tightens.
MATT (CONT’D)
…shit.
He looks toward the hallway.
Sean’s bedroom door is ajar.
Matt moves fast now.
INT. SEAN’S BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS
The room is empty.
Bed unmade.
Hoodie gone.
Bike helmet missing.
Matt spots something on the desk:
Sean’s PHONE.
Left behind.
That hits.
Matt grabs it.
The screen lights up — several MISSED CALLS.
All from SEAN.
Matt exhales sharply.
Too late.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Urgency in the Dark
INT. MITCHELL HOUSE – HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
Matt is already moving.
He shoves his feet into boots, grabs his jacket.
As he passes the bathroom mirror, he catches a glimpse of
himself —
The scar on his shoulder.
The exhaustion.
The realization.
This isn’t about the lion.
Not tonight.
He snatches his keys off the counter.
Pauses.
Looks out the kitchen window.
The canal lies beyond the yard — black, empty, patient.
Matt’s eyes harden.
EXT. MITCHELL HOUSE – NIGHT
The front door SLAMS open.
Matt strides to his truck, unlocking it mid-step.
He throws himself into the driver’s seat.
The engine ROARS to life.
As he peels out of the driveway, the porch light flicks off
behind him — plunging the house back into darkness.
The canal remains.
Unwatched.
Waiting.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Anxiety in the Night
INT. HOSPITAL –WAITING AREA – NIGHT
Fluorescent light. Too bright. Too clean.
Matt pushes through sliding glass doors, breath still uneven
from the drive.
The place hums with quiet crisis -- distant monitors,
murmured voices, a crying baby down the hall.
Matt scans.
Then spots them.
Sean sits rigid in a plastic chair, knees bouncing, hoodie
pulled tight around him like armor.
Beside him, Bruce sits stiff-backed, hands folded in his lap,
eyes locked on nothing.
Matt closes the distance fast.
MATT
Sean.
Sean looks up.
Relief flashes -- then collapses into something shakier.
SEAN
Dad.
Matt crouches in front of him immediately, hands on Sean’s
knees.
MATT
What happened?
Sean opens his mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Bruce clears his throat.
BRUCE
He couldn’t breathe.
Matt looks to Bruce.
MATT
What?
BRUCE
He said his chest hurt. Said the
room was closing in.
Sean nods, embarrassed.
SEAN
I thought I was dying.
Matt swallows -- keeps his voice steady.
MATT
You weren’t.
Sean nods again, not convinced.
A NURSE appears, clipboard tucked under her arm.
NURSE
Sean Mitchell?
Matt stands.
MATT
I’m his father.
She gives him a practiced look -- calm, reassuring.
NURSE
Vitals are stable. No cardiac
issues.
Looks like an acute anxiety episode.
Sean winces at the word.
SEAN
I’m not crazy.
The nurse softens.
NURSE
I didn’t say that.
She glances at Bruce.
NURSE (CONT’D)
We’ll give you a minute.
She steps away.
Matt sits beside Sean now.
MATT
Talk to me.
Sean shakes his head.
SEAN
I didn’t want Grandpa to freak out.
Bruce bristles slightly.
BRUCE
I didn’t freak out.
Sean looks at him.
SEAN
You tried to call Mom.
Bruce pauses.
BRUCE
...That might be true.
Matt exhales.
MATT
Sean. What set it off?
Sean hesitates.
Then --
SEAN
I went back to the canal.
Matt’s stomach drops.
MATT
You promised --
SEAN
I didn’t ride it.
He rushes the words.
SEAN (CONT’D)
I stayed on the street. I just… I
wanted to see.
Matt closes his eyes for a beat.
MATT
See what?
Sean’s voice lowers.
SEAN
If you were right.
Matt opens his eyes.
Sean leans in.
SEAN (CONT’D)
There were people down there.
Matt stiffens.
MATT
People?
Sean nods.
SEAN
Not jogging. Not walking.
They had bags. Flashlights.
They were moving fast.
Matt doesn’t interrupt.
SEAN (CONT’D)
I followed them from the street.
Just for a second.
Bruce shifts, uneasy.
BRUCE
Sean --
SEAN
Then it got quiet.
Matt’s jaw tightens.
SEAN (CONT’D)
Like everything stopped at once.
Sean swallows.
SEAN (CONT’D)
And I heard it.
Matt keeps his voice neutral.
MATT
Heard what?
Sean meets his eyes.
SEAN
Breathing.
Matt’s pulse kicks.
SEAN (CONT’D)
Not close.
Not far.
(beat)
SEAN (CONT’D)
Like it was deciding.
Bruce’s hand trembles in his lap.
BRUCE
I remember that sound.
Both Matt and Sean turn.
Bruce stares at the floor now.
BRUCE (CONT’D)
Right before it happened to you.
Matt freezes.
MATT
Dad.
Bruce looks up -- suddenly clear.
BRUCE
It waited.
Silence presses in.
Sean’s voice cracks.
SEAN
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t scream.
Matt grips his shoulder.
MATT
But it didn’t come after you.
Sean shakes his head.
SEAN
No.
A beat.
SEAN (CONT’D)
It went the other way.
Matt processes this.
MATT
Toward the houses?
Sean nods.
SEAN
Like it already knew where people
were.
That’s when Sean’s breath starts to hitch again -- fast,
shallow.
Matt immediately grounds him.
MATT
Hey. Look at me.
Sean locks onto Matt.
MATT (CONT’D)
You’re safe.
You did the right thing.
Sean shakes his head.
SEAN
No, I didn’t.
Matt frowns.
SEAN (CONT’D)
I recorded it.
Matt stills.
MATT
Recorded what?
Sean reaches into his hoodie pocket.
Pulls out a small ACTION CAMERA -- scuffed, shaking in his
hand.
SEAN
I thought if I had proof…
you’d make them listen.
Matt stares at the camera.
Bruce looks at it too — fear and recognition mixing.
BRUCE
Some things don’t like being seen.
Matt slowly takes the camera from Sean.
Feels its weight.
MATT
This stays between us. For now.
Sean nods, exhausted.
A DOCTOR approaches.
DOCTOR
We’re going to keep him for
observation. Just to be safe.
Matt nods.
MATT
Thank you.
The doctor moves on.
Matt looks at Sean -- really looks at him.
Not a kid anymore.
Someone who saw the truth too early.
MATT (CONT’D)
You didn’t imagine it.
Sean’s eyes well.
SEAN
I know.
Matt stands.
MATT
Get some rest.
He turns to Bruce.
MATT (CONT’D)
Stay with him.
Bruce nods -- solid, present.
Matt steps back, slipping the camera into his jacket.
As he walks toward the exit, he passes a hospital window.
Outside --
City lights glow.
Traffic flows.
Life moves on.
Matt stops.
Looks out toward where the canal cuts through the darkness
beyond the buildings.
Now he knows:
It’s not just hunting.
It’s learning routes.
And someone is letting it.
Matt turns and heads out.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
The Saboteur's Resolve
EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL – HEADGATE FACILITY – NIGHT
A stark concrete HEADGATE STRUCTURE rises out of the darkness
— industrial, forgotten, humming faintly with latent power.
Floodlights cast hard shadows across rusted railings and
warning placards.
The canal below lies bone-dry, cracked concrete stretching
into black.
A lone pickup rolls to a stop.
Matt steps out.
He opens the bed.
Inside:
A DUFFEL OF EXPLOSIVES — compact charges, detonator, wire.
He shoulders the bag and moves toward the gate.
Each step deliberate.
This is not impulse.
This is decision.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
Nature's Reckoning
EXT. HEADGATE PLATFORM – CONTINUOUS
Matt kneels beside the concrete housing.
Begins prepping charges — calm, precise.
A SOUND.
Applause.
Slow. Mocking.
Matt freezes.
A FIGURE steps into the light.
Then another.
Then another.
MAYOR THOMAS REYNOLDS
MARTIN GLOVER
WALTER DENT
All three stand above him on the
platform.
Unarmed.
Smiling like men who believe they already won.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Matt.
This isn’t the way.
Matt rises slowly.
Doesn’t reach for the detonator.
MATT
You followed me.
GLOVER
You weren’t subtle.
Glover gestures to the dry canal below.
GLOVER (CONT’D)
You were always going to end up
here.
Walter studies the explosives with interest — not fear.
WALTER
You know what that water will do if
you open it too fast?
Matt meets his eyes.
MATT
It’ll remind the land who it
belongs to.
The Mayor sighs — genuinely tired.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
You blow this gate, you don’t save
anyone.
You create chaos.
Matt nods.
MATT
Chaos already happened.
You just kept it quiet.
Glover steps closer.
GLOVER
You think this ends with water?
Matt’s voice is flat.
MATT
I think it ends with truth.
Walter chuckles softly.
WALTER
Truth doesn’t survive pressure.
Matt looks at the canal.
MATT
Neither do lies.
A LOW SOUND carries up from below.
Not loud.
Not sudden.
A GROWL.
The men pause.
Walter frowns.
WALTER
What was that?
Matt doesn’t look away from them.
MATT
That’s the part you didn’t plan
for.
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Measured.
From the darkness of the canal bed below —
A MASSIVE MOUNTAIN LION steps into the spill of light.
Then —
A second.
They move independently.
Not hunting.
Not charging.
Assessing.
Glover stiffens.
GLOVER
That’s not possible.
Matt finally looks down.
MATT
You cut off their water.
You cut off their food.
He meets Glover’s eyes.
MATT (CONT’D)
They adapted.
The lions advance.
Walter backs up instinctively.
WALTER
We need to leave. Now.
The Mayor doesn’t move.
Frozen.
The first lion climbs the concrete embankment with terrifying
ease.
Claws scrape.
The sound echoes.
Glover panics.
He RUNS.
Wrong move.
The lion launches.
Impact is brutal — efficient — devastating.
Glover hits the platform, screaming once before he’s gone
over the edge.
Silence.
Walter bolts the other direction.
The second lion intercepts.
No roar.
Just precision.
Walter disappears beneath muscle and shadow.
The Mayor collapses backward against the railing.
Alive.
Shaking.
The lions stop.
They look at Matt.
Matt doesn’t move.
Doesn’t raise a weapon.
Doesn’t run.
The lions hold his gaze.
A beat.
Then -- one turns away.
The other follows.
They melt back into darkness.
Gone.
The canal exhales.
The Mayor sobs now.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Oh my god…
Matt steps toward him.
MATT
You still want to manage this?
The Mayor looks up.
Broken.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
What are you?
Matt shakes his head.
MATT
Someone who listened.
Matt turns.
Walks back to the charges.
Begins connecting the detonator.
The Mayor scrambles forward.
MAYOR REYNOLDS
Matt — wait.
We can fix this.
We’ll announce closures.
We’ll fund mitigation—
Matt stops.
Looks back.
MATT
You don’t get to fix it after
people die.
The Mayor whispers:
MAYOR REYNOLDS
You’ll go to prison.
Matt nods.
MATT
Maybe.
He presses the detonator.
BOOM.
Concrete SHATTERS.
Metal SCREAMS.
The headgate BLOWS OPEN.
A beat.
Then --
A ROARING WALL OF WATER EXPLODES through the canal.
Violent. Relentless.
Water crashes down the concrete artery, reclaiming space at
terrifying speed.
The Mayor scrambles back as spray slams the platform.
Matt stands firm.
Watching.
The canal fills.
The sound is deafening.
Alive.
Wild.
Uncontrollable.
Matt turns.
Walks away as alarms begin to wail.
Behind him --
The water surges forward, flooding the corridor.
Erasing tracks.
Erasing secrets.
The canal runs again.
EXT. HIGH LINE CANAL – DAWN
Morning light creeps across the canal.
Water rushes through it now — full, loud, alive.
Foam collects at the edges. Debris spins, then disappears.
The concrete scar is softened but not healed.
Police tape flutters uselessly in the breeze.
Fire trucks. Utility crews.
A helicopter thumps overhead.
The canal is no longer invisible.
EXT. HEADGATE FACILITY – CONTINUOUS
MATT sits on the tailgate of his truck.
Hands cuffed in front of him.
Mud on his boots.
Water stains up his jeans.
Blood — not his — dried along the hem.
He looks calm.
Across from him, the MAYOR sits wrapped in a blanket, face
gray, eyes hollow.
A PARAMEDIC checks his vitals.
No one speaks to Matt.
They don’t know how.
INT. TEMPORARY COMMAND TENT – MORNING
A folding table. Coffee gone cold.
OFFICER LEMON stands just inside the tent flap.
She watches Matt through the open side — cuffed, patient.
She turns to the STATE INVESTIGATOR.
OFFICER LEMON
He didn’t run.
The investigator flips through notes.
INVESTIGATOR
He destroyed public infrastructure.
Kate holds his gaze.
OFFICER LEMON
He restored it.
That gives the investigator pause.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
Deferred Truth at the Canal Bank
EXT. CANAL BANK – LATER
Matt is escorted toward a waiting vehicle.
Sean stands with Bruce near the tape line.
Sean’s eyes lock on Matt.
Matt stops.
The escort hesitates, then allows it.
Matt crouches in front of Sean.
MATT
You okay?
Sean nods.
SEAN
They said the water’s back all the
way to the refuge.
Matt smiles faintly.
MATT
Good.
Sean hesitates.
SEAN
Are they gonna put you in jail?
Matt considers.
MATT
Maybe.
Sean swallows hard.
SEAN
I’m sorry.
Matt shakes his head.
MATT
You saw something real.
That’s not something you apologize for.
Bruce steps forward.
Clear-eyed. Present.
BRUCE
Your mother would’ve hated this.
Matt chuckles softly.
MATT
She always hated shortcuts.
Bruce nods.
BRUCE
She would’ve understood this one.
That lands.
Matt stands.
Before he turns away —
Sean reaches into his pocket.
Hands Matt the ACTION CAMERA.
SEAN
They didn’t ask about this.
Matt looks at it.
Then hands it back.
MATT
Not yet.
A look passes between them.
Truth deferred — not erased.
Matt allows himself to be led away.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Family"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
Echoes of Consequence
EXT. COURTHOUSE STEPS – DAY (DAYS LATER)
News cameras. Controlled chaos.
A headline scrolls on a phone screen:
“HIGH LINE FLOODING UNDER INVESTIGATION — OFFICIALS DECLINE
COMMENT”
Matt exits the building with his lawyer.
No handcuffs now.
But no smile either.
A REPORTER shouts:
REPORTER
Detective Lockwood — was it worth
it?
Matt stops.
Turns.
Looks directly into the camera.
MATT
Ask the water.
He walks on.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Dusk and Shadows
EXT. ROCKY FLATS REFUGE – DUSK
Tall grass bends in the wind.
Water glints in distant channels — flowing again, imperfect
but present.
Two MOUNTAIN LIONS stand at the edge of a rise.
Watching.
Listening.
They drink.
Then turn away — deeper into protected land.
Gone.
EXT. CANAL TRAIL – NIGHT
The trail is reopened.
Lights installed.
New signs posted.
“WILDLIFE ACTIVITY — STAY ALERT.”
Joggers pass.
A family bikes slowly.
Everything looks safe.
Too safe.
Far down the canal, where lights don’t reach —
The water moves.
Quietly.
Persistently.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
Reflections of Control
INT. MITCHELL HOUSE – NIGHT
Matt sits alone at the kitchen table.
No badge.
No gun.
Just a glass of water.
He fills it.
This time, he lets it overflow.
Doesn’t stop it.
Lets the water spill across the counter and drip onto the
floor.
He watches.
Then reaches down.
Turns off the faucet.
The house is quiet.
But not empty.
EXT. CANAL – NIGHT
Water rushes through the darkness.
The canal runs unseen again —
But this time, it’s watched.
By animals.
By people.
By something older than both.
FADE OUT.