NOCTURNUM COLLECTIVE – SEASON FOUR
Bury the Ashes – Chapter One
Written by Karl White
NARRATOR (OPEN): There are constants that endure in the known world. Space, time, energy, matter. Physical and scientific laws constraining us to this existence. But there's a current below the surface. Contrary to the explainable, it's where the unknown resides, where meaning and form collide with the abstract, where shadows hold dominion…Enter the Nocturnum Collective.
(MUSIC – opening sequence)
NARRATOR: And now, together with Legends of the Night, The Nocturnum Collective presents Season Four -- Bury the Ashes, chapter one. Written by Karl White.
(MUSIC – mysterious drone)
NARRATOR: Life is linear, a beginning, middle, and end, playing out in perfect order. We feel grounded in moments as time ticks away, but the sequence of it all, is a mirage. We can live in memories conjured from the past, or worry over fears of future events yet to happen, all while standing in the here and now of the present...And while time’s a constant and we all count the same days, our individual narratives aren’t entirely synchronous. Disjointed recollections, parallel events, contrasting points of view, all collide to deepen the meaning of this story we call life.
(SFX – muted TV sounds)
NARRATOR: It’s May 23rd, 1982...A quaint main bedroom in a state of disarray. Unpacked moving boxes are stacked in the corner. Others have been opened, partially unpacked, rifled through. The room is a work in progress…In bed is FRED PIKE . He’s 47, bald, tall, lean, with an even mix of calm and unequivocal about him, but at the moment, his eyes are closed, a bit tuckered out. And despite bright daylight outside, the shades have been drawn, the space is dark as Fred attempts to rest…The only light and sounds in the room come from a small television atop a dresser. The volume is turned down, but still audible…On the small, square screen, a developing News Report. There is footage of a Coast Guard Helicopter rescuing people from the water, intercut with images of a cruise ship.
REPORTER (on TV): Day three and search efforts continue as crews patrol the choppy waters for survivors of the Triton. Officials are still not commenting on what exactly happened to the luxury cruise liner...
(SFX - door creaks open)
NARRATOR: The bedroom door slowly creeps open...Fred’s wife, PAM, peeks in. She’s 45, brunette, soft-spoken, down-to-earth.
PAM: Fred, sweetie.
NARRATOR: Awake, but attempting to preserve his restful state, Fred keeps his eyes closed.
PAM: There’s something wrong with the pigeons.
FRED: What is it?
PAM: They’re all...dead.
NARRATOR: Fred’s eyes quickly bolt open.
(SFX – sounds of nature)
NARRATOR: Deep in a heavily wooded area, Fred and Pam stand at a pigeon coop in a yard adjacent to a modest two-story brick cottage. A dozen homing pigeons, all with tag bands on their feet, are dead at the bottom of the enclosure. Pam observes Fred, who leans forward, examining the birds.
FRED: Any signs of sickness before this?
PAM: Not a one.
FRED: Their food?
PAM: Using the same bag of feed since we got here. It came off the pallet in the shed like the rest.
FRED: Any strange smell or texture you’ve noticed from their droppings?
NARRATOR: Thinking a moment, she shakes her head in the negative.
FRED: New arrivals?
PAM: Number three-seven-two. I tagged him yesterday, but he’s been in the coop a few days.
FRED: And you’ve never had this happen before?
PAM: When we were back in DC, a few died here and there, but...
NARRATOR: She quickly works through her thoughts.
PAM: ...Not like this...I’ve heard of influenza viruses in chickens, but never pigeons. And never anything that sets in this fast.
NARRATOR: Fred leans back in. inspecting the birds more closely...He notices decaying skin around the beaks and eyes.
(SFX – sting)
FRED: How long have they been dead?
PAM: I came out and fed them after breakfast, they were all still alive then.
NARRATOR: A hint of concern on his face, she doesn’t like the look.
PAM: Fred?
FRED: Decomposition is already setting in.
PAM: How can that be?
FRED: I don’t know.
(SFX – dog barks)
NARRATOR: The Pike’s German Shepard, TEDDY, spots a squirrel on the perimeter of the yard. He barks, and chases after it.
PAM: Teddy!
NARRATOR: A moment later, Teddy is gone. Running off into the woods after the woodland creature. Pam opens her mouth to yell again, but Fred waves her off, it won’t do any good…Back to the coop, Fred slides on long gloves meant for handling the birds...and begins gathering the carcasses.
FRED: I’m gonna bury these.
PAM: Need help?
NARRATOR: In the back corner of the enclosure, Fred notices a dead cockroach. He stares at it a moment...
PAM: Fred? Did you hear me? Do you want my help?
FRED: No. I’ll take care of it.
NARRATOR: Her eyes narrow, she watches him closely.
PAM: I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me...Like, what it is we’re really doing here on this remote, faraway, isolated island.
FRED: We’ve been through this. When Roy retired, they needed someone on the outpost to take care of this place. Just like him, I’m here for observation only. There’s nothing covert.
PAM: But why’d you have to take this assignment?
FRED: Because every year we spend here counts double toward my retirement and pension. It did Roy a lot of good being here. Figured it’d do the same for us. I’m not in the field, not running ops, not putting myself in harm’s way. I’m literally getting paid to watch the trees grow and relax.
NARRATOR: Pam quietly sighs, keeping her frustrations to herself.
FRED: I know it’s gonna take some getting used to. But I’d rather be stuck out here in nature than in an office in DC.
NARRATOR: It’s a touchy subject. Pam turns away, not wanting to fight.
FRED: We have a whole island to ourselves. We can do whatever we want.
PAM: Paradise, right?
FRED: Just give it a chance. Try and enjoy the peace and quiet.
NARRATOR: Fred and Pam are castaways of sorts. Residing off the coast of Alaska, on the small island of SEDNA. Not on any maps, the landmass is a CIA outpost. Constructed at the end of World War 2, it was originally used as a long-range wilderness and cold weather training center. Becoming an important spot for U.S. Intelligence during the height of the cold war. But by the late 1970’s, with spy satellites surveilling our enemies, and national security priorities shifting, the island became an observation post. Mostly seen within the agency as a punishment op...And after a failed mission that cast Fred as the scape-goat, the once well-regarded foreign intelligence agent was put out to pasture. He could’ve walked away or spent the rest of his carrier riding a desk in DC, but his work and his time in the field had taken a toll on his marriage. Volunteering for the isolated Sedna post, he’s tasked with being the island’s caretaker...and hoping for a chance to rekindle his relationship with Pam.
(SFX – sting)
NARRATOR: Pam watches from a distance as Fred cleans the bird carcasses from the coop.
(SFX – ocean sounds)
NARRATOR: Somewhere in the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, the sun peeks through a thick fog hanging over the choppy waves...Drifting aimlessly, alone in the dark waters is a bright yellow life-raft. The vessel carries only one passenger, DOUG NORWOOD, 32, he’s dressed in a damp, dirty, torn tuxedo, with a white jacket. At the moment, he clings to the edge of the raft like a battered prizefighter, resting on the ropes.
(SFX – seagulls)
NARRATOR: Dozens of seagulls fly overhead, calling out to one another. The growing sounds become enough to rouse Doug. He’s slow to react, having been at sea for some time. He doesn’t even know what day it is...He bats his eyes, trying to adjust to the bright daylight. Looking up, Doug sees the birds...it takes his brain a moment to process the information, then he quickly sits up.
(SFX – sting)
NARRATOR: Where there are birds, there’s land. Doug’s head snaps around in every direction, frantically looking for terra firma. And there, on the horizon, a tall line of trees on what appears to be a coastline. His eyes narrow, hoping what he thinks he sees isn’t just a figment of his imagination…Realizing it’s not a mirage, he straightens up. The tide is carrying the raft towards land, but desperate to get there, Doug leans over the side, paddling with his hands.
(SFX – paddling)
NARRATOR: In the surf, Doug jumps out of the raft. Pants rolled up to his knees. His bare feet churn through the waves.
(SFX – waves on shore)
NARRATOR: With all of his might, Doug drags the life-raft, that’s been his home for days, to shore.
(SFX – hitting wet sand)
NARRATOR: He drops it where it sits and runs up the beach towards a waiting tree line…Doug looks around, surveying the beach -- no signs of life in any direction. He puts his hands up to his mouth and calls out.
DOUG: HELLO!
NARRATOR: But realizing his voice is barely audible over the loud surf. The vast emptiness of the beach gives him pause…Trying to decide his next move, Doug sits in the sand, catching his breath. He faces the crashing waves.
(SFX – sting)
NARRATOR: From out of nowhere, what sounds like a gunshot and dog yelp rings out almost simultaneously, from the woods.
(SFX – gunshot/dog yelp)
NARRATOR: Doug turns back, looking at the trees. Unsure of what he just heard over the loud roar of the ocean.
(SFX – sting)
NARRATOR: He springs to his feet and cautiously walks towards the tree line. Stopping where the sand meets the trees, Doug stares into the forest. It’s darkly hypnotic, ominous.
(SFX – sting)
NARRATOR: In Doug’s mind, anyone or anything could be lurking out there. At the moment, he dares not going any further. But something compels him to give a half-hearted yell...
DOUG: Is there anyone out there?
NARRATOR: He waits for an answer...The leaves RUSTLE softly with the ocean breeze, but nothing else can be seen or heard in the dense woods.
(MUSIC – tense)
NARRATOR: Doug momentarily considers breaching the threshold of the forest. But some intuition, some instinct, some gut feeling keeps him from it...At an impasse, he looks out over the water, then glances back at the trees, mulling his options...stay on the beach or venture into the unknown?
(SFX – sting)
NARRATOR: The sun is setting, and Doug has remained on the beach. The word “HELP” has been dug out of the sand in fifteen-foot letters…Doug lumbers down the beach, back towards his raft, with a pile of kindling in his arms.
(SFX – dropping firewood)
NARRATOR: On his knees, he arranges the sticks to start a fire. From his pocket, he pulls a wet pack of cigarettes. Inside, a cheap lighter. He shakes it, blowing on the flint, hoping it’s dry enough. Holding his breath, he flicks the lighter...
(SFX – lighter flick)
NARRATOR: A small yellow flame shoots up from the tip. Doug quietly sighs in relief and through his cold shivers holds the flame to some twigs.
DOUG: Come on...
NARRATOR: A moment later, smoke rises as the wood catches fire.
(SFX – sticks moving)
NARRATOR: He re-arranges the sticks and sits back, watching the fire grow.
(SFX – sand brush)
NARRATOR: Brushing the sand from his feet, Doug digs in his pocket, and pulls out his socks, putting them on. He dumps sand out of his shoes and slips them on as well.
(SFX – shivering)
NARRATOR: The temperature is quickly dropping. Visibly cold, Doug blows on his hands and holds them in front of the fire. Trying to stay warm.
(SFX – sting)
NARRATOR: The last hint of sunlight fades past the windowsill, forcing Fred to turn on an overhead light in the attic of the caretaker cottage.
(SFX – chain light)
NARRATOR: The room is full of sealed boxes from the move and old unused furniture, piled in a somewhat organized fashion. Fred digs through boxes with purpose, on the hunt for something specific...But he can’t find what he’s looking for. Against the far wall, a desk with a dust cover. At the bottom, Fred spots green and his face lights up.
(SFX – moving furniture)
NARRATOR: Nestled in the leg pocket of an old roll-top desk is an olive drab footlocker.
(SFX – wood trunk lid)
NARRATOR: Inside, reminders of his past. Fred pulls out a worn book. The cover is STAMPED: “Property - Central Intelligence Agency” and labeled “Epidemiology Field Guide”.
(SFX – page turn)
NARRATOR: In a spare room, converted into an office, Fred, flips through the Field Guide, looking at photos of various ailments and diseases...There’s a KNOCK at the door.
(SFX – door knock)
NARRATOR: Pam enters and looks over Fred’s shoulder. Seeing the field guide, and the graphic photos inside, her mouth contorts.
PAM: What’re you doing?
FRED: Researching the bird thing.
PAM: What would the CIA know about dead birds?
FRED: It’s something we use to identify strange illnesses in the field. Thought it might help.
NARRATOR: But when Fred turns and looks up at Pam, he clocks her concern and tries to get ahead of it.
FRED: I just wanna satisfy my curiosity. That’s it, nothing else.
NARRATOR: She gets what he’s doing, trying to smooth things over to keep her from worrying. Appreciating his effort, she doesn’t push, instead she pokes back at him.
PAM: This is gonna be the all-consuming thing that keeps you up tonight. Isn’t it?
FRED: Me? No.
PAM: You can’t turn it off, can you? You always have to be investigating.
NARRATOR: He closes the field guide, turns around in his chair, wearing a smile.
FRED: You’re right. I’m not gonna do it. It’s not a pressing matter...Why did you come in here? Aside from giving me a hard time?
NARRATOR: The pleasant demeanor that Pam wears, vanishes.
PAM: You didn’t happen to see Teddy when you were in the woods? He never came back.
FRED: I’m sure he’s fine. If you were a dog on an island this big, you’d find a lot of ways to stay occupied.
PAM: Maybe. But he’s never not come back for dinner.
NARRATOR: A moment of silence, then she gives a worried sigh.
FRED: What?
PAM: I’m just thinking about...
NARRATOR: She trails off, stopping herself.
FRED: Being back home in DC?
NARRATOR: Pam’s biting her tongue, trying not to start a fight. She’s just concerned about the dog.
FRED: I can look for Teddy, now. I don’t want you to spend the rest of the night worrying.
PAM: No, I’m sure you’re right. He’s probably running around, exploring.
FRED: If he’s not back by morning, I’ll go find him.
NARRATOR: Pam leans in the doorway, looking at Fred. He stares back at her.
FRED: Pam, is something else the matter?
NARRATOR: Getting choked up, she quickly turns and hurries away without saying another word.
(MUSIC – soft)
NARRATOR: In their bedroom, Pam sits on the edge of the bed, her back to the door. She holds a framed photograph of herself with her younger sister Patty. They look exactly alike. Fred ambles in.
FRED: Is this really about Teddy?
PAM: It’s about everything. The birds, moving...I feel trapped.
FRED: We can leave anytime.
NARRATOR: Pam looks at the photo, as her eyes well and tears roll down her cheeks.
FRED: I’m sorry we couldn’t make it to the funeral.
NARRATOR: Fred comes over and sits next to Pam. He puts a comforting arm around her.
PAM: I wish she would have told me how sick she was. She was too young to die.
FRED: She didn’t want to burden you.
PAM: She kept it from me. It was selfish.
FRED: Maybe Patty didn’t want your last memory of her to be on her deathbed. Remember when my Dad got sick, it was hard to watch him waste away. Don’t fault your sister for wanting to spare you pain.
PAM: It’s one of those stupid things that has me thinking about the meaning of life. Mine, yours...
NARRATOR: Pam is struggling. Fred pulls her closer.
FRED: Your sister led a life full of love and compassion. I know it was sudden, but ‘the meaning of life is to just be alive’, and she did that to the fullest.
PAM: Who said that? About the meaning of life? Timothy Leary?
FRED: Alan Watts...You’re slipping, Mizz Philosophy degree.
NARRATOR: Pam musters a smile.
FRED: You and I, we’re two strong, healthy people. We live in a beautiful place, surrounded by nature’s wonder. Everything is good.
PAM: I hope so. I don’t think I can take any more bad news.
(SFX – ocean sounds)
NARRATOR: On the shore, a healthy fire burns bright against the darkness, as Doug has set up camp on the beach for the night. The yellow life-raft will tonight serve as a shelter as he has propped it up with sticks, transforming it into a makeshift lean-to.
(SFX – fire crackles)
NARRATOR: But still struggling to stay warm, Doug holds his hands to the fire. Then folds his arms in an attempt to retain the heat. With his hands tucked against his chest, he feels something in the breast pocket of his jacket.
(SFX – sting)
NARRATOR: He pulls out a diamond engagement ring. It shimmers against the firelight.
(SFX – shimmer)
NARRATOR: Staring at the ring, the hypnotic noise of the OCEAN crashing against the shore, Doug’s mind slips to somewhere a million miles away...
(SFX - mysterious sting)
NARRATOR: But his rapture is interrupted...
(SFX – sticks breaking)
NARRATOR: By the sound of sticks breaking, somewhere off in the woods.
(SFX – sting)
NARRATOR: Remaining still, Doug listens... It almost sounds like someone is slowly walking just beyond the tree line.
(SFX – distant steps)
NARRATOR: He carefully watches the woods but can’t make anything out in the dark. He hesitates, but calls out...
DOUG: HELLO?
NARRATOR: There’s no response. The stillness of the night returns. But Doug, himself, remains quiet, listening. After a moment.
DOUG: Is anyone there?
NARRATOR: Still no response, and no other sounds, just the roar of the ocean. Doug's eyes remain fixed on the trees as he continues to watch for any signs of life.
(SFX –mysterious sting)
NARRATOR: To be continued…
(MUSIC – Outro)
NARRATOR: For more killer content, subscribe or go to https://www.NocturnumCollective.com
And for more information about Bury the Ashes and the LOTN universe, go to https://www.LegendsOfTheNight.com/