SILENCE By Taylor Pelletier

Circle Apartment 181-06 1033 Danby Rd. Ithaca, NY 14850 (603)-548-1190

FADE IN: EXT. BRITISH COLUMBIA WOODS - DAY An ATV speeds down a small trail through the woods of Victoria BC. The driver, SAM BROWN (24) keeps his eyes on the path ahead. Its not the picturesque old growth forest hes here for, its the adrenaline. His speed never falters, his thumb pushing the accelerator to the limit. A large black duffel bag is strapped to his back, taking up almost as much room as he does on the ATV. His eyes dart quickly down to his watch, reading 11:59:13. As his attention returns to the road, he pushes the throttle even further. A line of signs appears in the distance, perpendicular to the road, stapled to massive trees that are probably older than the boundary that the signs are marking. "You are now entering United States territory. Trespassers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law." Sam pays no attention to the warning of the signs, his eyes glued to his destination, a clearing ahead, growing larger by the second. Just as he breaks into the clearing, he slams the brakes, screeching to a halt. The noise of his skid echoes into the forest, now silent behind the idling of his engine. Paying close attention to his surroundings, Sam whips his head around to the sound of an engine starting. In an instant he unbuckles the duffel bag and dumps it on the ground, his muscle memory taking control. As the car moves toward him, he takes off. Adrenaline courses through his veins like the gasoline coursing through his engine, hurtling him back down the road from which he came. INT. BROWN HOUSEHOLD - NIGHT Sam lays on his bed alone, staring at the ceiling with his arms behind his head.

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2.

After a few moments of contemplation, his attention drifts to his backpack on the floor next to his bed. He swings his legs out of bed, touching his feet to the floor one after the other. Dropping to his knees, he pulls back the bed skirt revealing a small safe. With a few turns of the knob, it clicks open, revealing several rectangular packages inside. He reaches into his backpack, pulling out an identical package, and stacks it on top of the others before closing and locking the safe. He plops back onto his bed, assuming the same position, this time with a grin peeking out from the sides of his hardened expression. EXT. HANGAR - DUSK Sam sits alone in his SUV, protected from the fierce wintry storm outside. Snow is literally dumping out of the sky, whipped by the wind in every possible direction. A small helicopter idles in the background, 5 massive duffel bags strapped to a quick-release on the bottom. Sam gets what he was waiting for. His phone beeps, displaying a text message: "The drop is good". INT. HELICOPTER - NIGHT Sam is crammed into the tiny cockpit of the helicopter, intently listening for any traffic on the radio. The tiny helicopter is blown around like a small bird trying to navigate the updraft of a skyscraper. The inexperienced pilot does his best to keep it steady. His phone beeps again, this time a text message with GPS coordinates. Sam intently watches the indicator on his GPS inch closer and closer to the mapped destination. The exterior lights of the helicopter only illuminate the snow falling inches in front of the copter, giving the effect of a 3D computer screensaver. Just before he reaches the GPS coordinates given to him, a warning indicator illuminates the entire cockpit with an orange glow, accompanied by a beeping sound designed to induce panic. (CONTINUED)

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3.

The helicopter quickly begins to lose altitude. Sam remains calm, focusing on the ground instead of the GPS. Through the flurry of snow, he spots the clearing, two cars wait on the edge. Sam is no longer landing there by choice, but out of necessity. The landing skids of the copter sink softly into 2 feet of fresh snow. Sam shuts down the engine and pulls the quick release, dropping the duffel bags. He uses his glove to wipe condensation away from the window. Peering outside, his heart sinks into his stomach as he sees several DEA agents with guns drawn. INT. U.S. DETENTION CENTER - NIGHT A portly prison guard slowly makes his rounds. As he walks, he swings his flashlight beside him in unison with his opposite leg. He turns the corner of the last cell block and glances into the first cell. The flashlight clanks loudly to the floor and rolls back to the guards feet as he stands there, petrified. Sams motionless body hangs by a sheet from the supposedly "suicide-proof" light fixture in his cell. CUT TO BLACK