Bury the Ashes - Chapter Five

Growing weaker by the moment, Fred must make it home to complete Roy's instructions. And Doug's hopes of escaping the island dwindle at the end of the blue path.

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NOCTURNUM COLLECTIVE – SEASON FOUR

Bury the Ashes – Chapter Five

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 -- Bury the Ashes, chapter five. Written by Karl White.

(MUSIC – drone)

NARRATOR: Déjà vu, a term coined by French philosopher, Émile Boirac, meaning “already seen”. It’s a perception of a current situation as a past experience. Signals of cognition intersecting in our brains fooling us to believe we’ve seen a moment unfold before. But maybe there’s more to it, an untapped extrasensory perception showing us an implicit mirage of a memory before it happens, while it happens. But for what reason? Perhaps it’s a primitive instinct, part of the human brain lost in evolution, meant to warn us of impending doom.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: Doug, after being pursued by the mysterious stranger, is lost again in the woods. He’s been walking for some time. He steps out onto another cut path, and despite having lost his pursuer some time ago, he keeps looking over his shoulder making sure he’s not being stalked. 

(SFX – feet crunching)

NARRATOR: He notices blue ribbons tied to the trees he’s passing, realizing he has’t been on this side of the island yet. As he follows the path, the roar of the ocean is getting closer and maybe salvation...Doug picks up the pace.

(MUSIC – wandering)

NARRATOR: It’s late day and the sun wanes on the horizon as Doug emerges from the blue path at the boat slip. But the glimmer of hope on his face, sours to devastation as he sees a heavily damaged, overturned, dry-docked motorboat.

DOUG: Oh, come on. 

NARRATOR: Surveying the vessel, he sees the lengths someone went to make sure it was unusable. The sides are bashed in, and holes are punctured throughout. The motor sits on the ground, uncapped, beat to junk, and beyond repair. Whatever hope he had in leaving the island are dashed once again. 

(SFX – walking in the sand)

NARRATOR: Walking out towards the water, Doug looks to see if he can spot land. He scans the horizon back and forth. There’s nothing distinguishable…As he turns away from the ocean, he kicks something in the sand...a small black plastic square. 

(SFX – water pouring)

NARRATOR: He picks it up, water pours out. Examining it closer, he realizes it’s a breaker from the utility station. Considering its usefulness, Doug puts it in his backpack for later.

(SFX - backpack zip)

NARRATOR: With nothing else for him on this side of the island, Doug heads back towards the path entrance...But as he nears, the intense sound of FLIES BUZZING comes within earshot.  

(SFX – flies)

NARRATOR: Something compels Doug to follow the sounds...and where the trees meet the sand, he finds a BLOOD-STAIN in the grass.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: Inspecting it closer, he notices FOOTPRINTS and a large DRAG MARK in the sand -- leading back to the overturned boat. He puts down his backpack and approaches, cautious...Doug spots a small pool of BLOOD leaking out from under the boat. Leaning down, he puts his ear to the vessel, he can HEAR, something, someone, underneath. Doug takes a breath, hesitating...knowing whatever it is, is probably something bad. He lifts the boat anyway -- suddenly from under it, an AXE is pointed up, directly at his throat.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: At CIA Headquarters in Virginia, agency director, LYNDON MARTIN, 63, salt and pepper hair, dressed in a tuxedo, is on a secure line, at his desk, looking through official CIA files, marked “CLASSIFIED”.

DIR. MARTIN: Starling, there better be a damn good reason I’ve been pulled away from a dinner at the White House...

NARRATOR: Locked in a back room of his bar in Key West, Roy is hunkered over a box of old files, spread out over his desk. 

ROY: Sir, this is highest priority.

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): What are we dealing with?

ROY: A septicemic plague developed back in the forties. Meant to decimate enemy populations using their own people.

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): How?

NARRATOR: Roy flips a few pages in a handwritten journal. He comes across an old photo of himself during World War 2, wearing a gas-mask, standing in front of a pile of burning bodies.

ROY: It’s a nasty little infection spread through bodily contact. Here’s the kicker...Side effects of the virus include rapid onset decomposition and hemorrhaging, which develops so blood and tissue have a greater chance of communicability.

(SFX – sting)

ROY: It’s pretty ingenious. It’s not enough to sneeze in your hand and touch a doorknob to spread it. This virus was created so the infected would be fully contagious, no matter what part you come in contact with. The intent, to wipe out entire towns without a shot being fired.

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): What’s the time frame?

ROY: Gestation’s fast, few hours to a day, depending on how bodily fluids are passed. Once infected, the body itself will only survive four to seven days before it deteriorates to the point of affecting mobility. Essentially, the more energy an infected person exerts, the faster they decay. 

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): Okay it gets people sick, and they rot away. We’ll send a scrub team.

ROY: Well sir, this is where it gets medieval. The virus takes over the brain. It roots itself inside someone, kills them, but keeps the host going so it can spread itself. I’m directly quoting from my field notes... ‘The infected, even the dead ones, are like wild animals that go after anything that moves. They’re violent and obviously, void of reason’…The virus was designed to do one thing, infect the next person. Anyone who has it is a ticking time bomb. No scrub team is equipped to handle that.

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): Where exactly is this happening?

ROY: Outpost 32.

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): Where in the hell did this virus come from? 

ROY: Island’s a storage depot for retired black projects. This particular virus is something we stole from the Japanese. Developed by the infamous Doctor Haruki Ichikawa.

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): Doctor Death, I remember when he was captured. Larry Halford’s white whale.

ROY: I was part of a containment unit with Halford, in Burma that first witnessed the virus set out into the world. Doctor Ichikawa made several attempts to release it on American Soil but luckily didn’t succeed. And somewhere down the line our doctors captured specimens and weaponized it. Project Easter, it was deemed too effective, if that’s even a thing. I can’t for the life of me figure out why any sample of this virus was ever kept. Every trace of it should’ve been destroyed. But then again, when have you known the United States Government to give up a sure thing.

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): So, what’s the damage?

ROY: There are only two individuals on the island. One is for sure infected, the other suspected. I gave orders for a... Echo-Sierra.

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): Murder, suicide? Jesus. This is Fred Pike and his wife?

ROY: Yes, sir.

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): That’s a damn shame. What do you recommend for clean-up?

ROY: Honestly, if I were you, I’d nuke the fucking island. 

DIR. MARTIN (over phone): Starling, you know what kind of attention that’d draw? Especially with that cruise ship sinking. If reporters caught wind. Or the Soviets?

ROY: If anything infected, man, or creature makes it to a populated area, it’s the second coming of the Black Plague. Only a whole helluva lot fucking worse.

(SFX – ocean sounds)

NARRATOR: It’s Monday, May 24th, just hours after the phone call Fred had with Roy... It’s dusk, and Fred continues with his plan to prevent he and Pam from leaving the island. He looks tired and weak. His face, much paler than before.

(SFX – axe hits)

NARRATOR: He takes an axe to the boat, puncturing the sides. He pulls the motor off and pries the casing open. Damaging it, he hit it with the axe a few times. 

(SFX – axe hit sounds)

NARRATOR: Every swing is getting harder as Fred grows weaker.

(SFX – water splash)

NARRATOR: At the edge of the water, he chucks the phone from the utility station into the ocean. Then, clumsily throws the breakers into the water...Winded, he sits down to catch his breath and takes a moment, watching one last sunset.

(SFX - footsteps in the woods)

NARRATOR: Night has fallen. Fred, axe in hand, has finished his tasks and makes his way down the red path heading to the cottage. The roar of the ocean can be heard on the quiet night.

(SFX – distant ocean roar)

NARRATOR: His steps are heavy, breath labored. He’s tired, unwell. The infection Teddy passed to him is beginning to take hold. 

(SFX – sticks snap)

NARRATOR: The snapping of sticks breaking under Fred’s feet, echoes out in the silent forest...Just then, the faint sound of Doug’s voice rings out.

DOUG: (in the distance) Hello?

NARRATOR: Fred stops...thinking he heard someone yelling but can’t be sure with the sound of the ocean. He’s still, listening...

(SFX – surge of pain)

NARRATOR: But Fred suddenly lurches over, pain surging through his body...After a moment, the wave of discomfort subsides. 

FRED: You can make it.

NARRATOR: But he doubles over and vomits blood. 

(SFX – barfing)

NARRATOR: As he’s throwing up, the sound of Doug’s faint yell can again be heard. But Fred, in his vulnerable state, doesn’t hear it. 

DOUG: (in the distance) ...Is anyone there...Hello?

NARRATOR: Done being sick, Fred wipes his mouth. He continues on, using the axe as a cane, lumbering down the path.

NARRATOR: Fred emerges from the shadows as he stumbles through the yard to the back of the cottage. He props the axe against the house and starts to sway in his weakened state. He catches himself on the doorframe, leaving a streak of blood.

(SFX – gun handling)

NARRATOR: He pulls the gun from his coat, stuffs it in his waistband. Then pulls his sweatshirt over to conceal the weapon. 

(SFX – fabric rustling) 

NARRATOR: Fred grabs the doorknob with his bloody hand. The door is unlocked, but something is preventing it from opening. 

(SFX - doorknob)

NARRATOR: Pam, hearing Fred outside, hurries to the door, opening it. She moves a kitchen chair that she'd wedged under the knob to barricade the entrance closed.

PAM: Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.

NARRATOR: Fred stumbles inside, past Pam, he looks at the chair.

FRED: What are you doing?

PAM: Sorry, I can’t get the lock to work.

FRED: We’re alone. There’s no one else on the island to break in. 

PAM: I’m a city girl, force of habit.

NARRATOR: Inside the kitchen, in the light, when Pam sees the state Fred is in she’s immediately concerned.

PAM: Fred, you have blood on you. What happened?

FRED: I cut myself. Looks worse than it is.

NARRATOR: He shuffles through the kitchen and stops at the doorway into the living room.

FRED: Do we have anything to eat? I’m starving.

PAM: I was gonna heat some soup, but...

NARRATOR: Fred starts to sway. Pam hurries towards him, but he catches himself on the doorway.

PAM: Fred, you’re giving me a fright.

FRED: Have I told you how beautiful you are today?

NARRATOR: She feels his forehead.

PAM: You’re burning up. Why don’t you sit down?

NARRATOR: Pam helps Fred with his backpack and coat. 

FRED: I really do mean it. You’re so pretty. I’m the luckiest guy. 

NARRATOR: Fred hobbles over and crashes down on the couch as Pam hangs up the coat and backpack in the living room closet. While her back is turned, Fred takes the gun out of his waistband and shoves it between the arm of the couch and the cushion.

PAM: You know, I haven’t been feeling great today either. Seeing you...I’m worried. I’m gonna call the Doctor on the Army Base. Like you said, better safe than sorry. 

NARRATOR: She marches over and grabs the phone on the end table, next to Fred. He quickly puts his finger on the hook, keeping Pam from hearing that there’s no dial-tone.

FRED: We can’t go calling for help every time we don’t feel right. I’m fine, really...Come, sit with me.

NARRATOR: Pam takes a seat, snuggling up next to Fred.

PAM: Did you find Teddy?

FRED: He was at the utility station. I fed him. He followed me home but ran off again, so you can stop worrying...But enough about that, let’s talk about you. Are you happy?

NARRATOR: She gives him a strange look. Not sure why he’s asking.

FRED: I just wanna know, right now, at this moment, if you’re happy.

NARRATOR: Unseen to Pam, Fred fishes the gun from its hiding spot, clicking the safety off.

PAM: Where’s this coming from? Did you hit your head...You know what Fred, your color’s not good. Let me get you something to eat. 

NARRATOR: Pam hops up and hurries into the kitchen. With her back turned to Fred, he raises the gun, hand shaking. He points it at her, ready to pull the trigger. But he tenses up...Searing pain radiates through his body. His muscles all go weak. The gun drops out of his hand. 

(SFX – gun thud)

NARRATOR: As he slouches forward, reaching for the gun, he falls off the couch, hitting the floor. Hearing the commotion, Pam looks back and sees Fred on the ground. 

PAM: Fred!

NARRATOR: He quickly pushes the gun under the couch as Pam rushes to his side.

FRED: I wanted to lay down and stretch my back. It’s been giving me problems all day.

PAM: Fredrick Pike, you’re a terrible liar. This is from the birds, I know it. I’m calling someone.

NARRATOR: Pam starts to stand, but Fred grabs her. 

FRED: Don’t, please. In the morning, if I’m still feeling bad, I’ll call the base.

PAM: But the birds?

FRED: I’m not a bird. My body’s fighting whatever bug I have. 

NARRATOR: Pam puts her hand on his forehead again.

PAM: We need to get your temperature down. Let me get a cold compress.

NARRATOR: She grabs a pillow off the couch and wedges it under his head. Then, hurries out of the room. Fred glances over at the gun under the couch. 

FRED: (to himself) You can do this...You have to.

NARRATOR: A moment later, Pam comes back with a wet washcloth. Kneeling over Fred, she puts it on his forehead. As she goes to walk away...

FRED: Wait. Come here. Lay with me for a minute.

NARRATOR: She throws a pillow next to Fred and climbs down to the floor.

FRED: This is nice. Reminds me of all those years I was on the road for work. Coming home.

PAM: I remember, the weight of the world on your shoulders.

FRED: And it would all go away in a heartbeat when I was with you. I never told you, but there was something you’d do that helped keep me grounded. Working in the field, undercover, it was easy to lose myself. There were times I’d come back feeling past the point of no return. But when I walked through the door, the first thing you’d ask me is, are you doing okay?

NARRATOR: Fred starts to get teary-eyed.

FRED: You’d ask, even though you probably knew I wasn’t. So I’d lie and say yes. You never questioned it or pried. It was like you were giving me permission to reset, to come back, and focus on the good. It sounds so simple, but it meant so much.

PAM: I know you lived a complicated life at work. At home, I wanted you to turn it off and be you. 

FRED: I can’t tell you how many times you saved my life. With you by my side, nothing else in this world matters. Nothing.

NARRATOR: Pam snuggles closer to Fred. He starts to get choked up but holds it back.

FRED: Pam, I don’t know what I’d do without you.

PAM: I don’t know what I’d do without you either, which is why I’m worried. 

FRED: I’ll be okay. I just need to rest.

NARRATOR: He kisses her on the top of the head. Then, looks over at the gun, reaching for it.

PAM: Fred, I know I haven’t said it, but I’m happy we’re here. It’s not our neighborhood, it’s not convenient, I miss the real world, but being here with you, feels right. 

NARRATOR: Hearing that makes him hesitate...he closes his eyes, not wanting the moment to end as they lay peacefully on the floor together.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: At the cottage, it’s the middle of the night, and a fire crackles in the fireplace, illuminating the room in a red and yellow hue.

(SFX – fire crackling)

NARRATOR: Pam, in her nightgown, sleeps in a recliner. Fred, wearing a blue sweatshirt and sweatpants, is asleep in the same spot on the floor he was lying on before. 

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: His breathing slows, fading down to almost nothing.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: Fred’s eyes suddenly open. His body tenses. Muscles, straining. He tries to scream out in pain but can’t…He’s struggling for breath. The blood vessels in his face are bulging. His body overwhelmed with pain.

(SFX – surge of pain)

NARRATOR: Fred looks over and sees the gun under the couch. He extends his hand for it, straining. It’s out of his reach. Fred suddenly grips his chest. His heart pumping faster and faster…

(SFX – heartbeat)

NARRATOR: His body and muscles contorting to escape the immense pain of dying, but there’s no relief...Fred takes his last breath, his body finally relaxes onto the floor. A deep, raspy, DEATH RATTLE seeps out. 

(SFX – death rattle)

NARRATOR: Blood runs from Fred’s eyes and nose. The infection has fully taken over.

(SFX – whoosh transition)

NARRATOR: The sun has peeked over the horizon. Light splashes through the window of the cottage onto Pam. She opens her eyes as she stretches in the recliner. Across the room, Fred moans as he tries to stand up from the floor. Pam sits up, curiously watching her husband for a moment.

PAM: Fred, you feeling any better?

NARRATOR: Fred’s head snaps up, sharply looking at Pam...His appearance is frightening, veins and blood vessels bulging. The skin around his lips is dark and festering. Blood leaks from his eyes, nose, and ears. It looks like he’s melting from the inside-out.

(SFX – zombie moan)

NARRATOR: With a guttural moan, Fred lunges at her from his half-standing position. He lands on the ground in front of the recliner, clawing in her direction -- He grabs for her foot. She recoils from Fred’s grip, fighting her way out of the chair.

PAM: Fred, what’s wrong with you? Say something.

NARRATOR: He doesn’t respond, but he does finally make it to his feet. Pam backs up towards a shelf against the far wall.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: Fred stumbles towards her. Pam gets out of the way. Operating on instinct, and no coordination, Fred barrels into the shelf. Books, papers, framed pictures, and other knick-knacks crash to the ground. 

(SFX – crash)

NARRATOR: While Fred is distracted, Pam hurries to the phone on the end table to call for help, but there’s no dial tone, nothing, the line is dead. 

(SFX – phone slammed down)

NARRATOR: She slams the phone down, the noise rouses Fred, who tries to turn around. But he’s caught in the shelf. 

(SFX – furniture crash)

NARRATOR: He struggles to break free, violently sending the shelf crashing to the floor in the process…He comes at Pam, reaching for her...but he stumbles, trips, falling to the floor. 

(SFX – body thud)

NARRATOR: She instinctually reaches out to help, but when he looks up with his bleeding eyes, she pulls back in horror…Glancing at the dying fire in the fireplace, she spots a poker sitting on the hearth. She rushes past Fred, grabbing it. From the floor, Fred reaches for her, moaning. Pam holds the poker up to defend herself, as Fred makes his way to his feet again.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: She doesn’t want to hurt him, but with death in his eyes, Fred comes at her. Pam has no choice, she swings, and hits Fred square in the forehead. The force of the blow, coupled with his wobbly legs, sends Fred to the ground again...he lands face-first on the fire poker.

(SFX – body thud)

NARRATOR: Pam watches her husband for a moment, thinking she may have just killed him. Not knowing he’s already dead but reanimated.

PAM: Fred?

NARRATOR: After a moment, he starts to move again. Raising his head, he looks up at her. Blood pours from the wound in his forehead and the poker slides out like a knife coming out of hot butter.

(SFX – blood oozing)

NARRATOR: Pam runs out of the room, tripping over the papers and books on the floor. Barefoot and still in her nightgown, Pam heads for the back door. She runs into the kitchen table, knocking a glass over. It tumbles to the floor, shattering.

(SFX - glass shatter)

NARRATOR: Pam fumbles with the chair she’s wedged under the doorknob, distracted by Fred, who gets to his feet in the next room. She gets the door open, running out into the morning sun…Moments later, Fred lumbers across the kitchen. He hits the chair along the way, knocking it over.  

(SFX – chair falls over)

NARRATOR: Out of the door, Fred hurries along, in pursuit of Pam. Instincts pull him across the yard towards the orange path.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: But Pam, hiding around the side of the house, watches him leave the yard. She waits until he’s gone and sneaks back around to the door. She spots the axe leaning against the house and grabs it, heading back inside, securing the door behind her.

(SFX – chair sound)

NARRATOR: In the kitchen, Pam looks back at the mess, left in Fred’s wake... 

PAM: I’ve gotta get out of here.

(SFX –terror sting)

NARRATOR: To be concluded... 

(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