AN SUV RACES UP TO-
EXT. LOUISIANA GAS STATION - 2007 - EVENING
-- SPRAYING GRAVEL EVERYWHERE. The driver’s side door FLIES
OPEN before the engine’s even cut off---
the SUV is too close and the door slams into the pump.
It doesn’t matter. There’s no stopping this driver, a woman
in her late thirties, as she wiggles her way out of the car---
DING DING DING---
leaving the keys in the ignition. This is LAURA PEPPER and
she does not have a second to spare.
Laura runs to the pump, hurrying the nozzle into the tank,
leaping over the hose to insert her credit card.
She is athletic and pretty in a no-nonsense way but, right
now, she’s also an agitated, disheveled mess---
impatiently tapping her fingernails on the roof of her
car. She checks her watch, looks over her shoulder to catch
the sun disappearing from the horizon.
The SUV has Texas plates. Wherever Laura’s going, she’s in an
awful hurry to get there.
Unbeknownst to Laura, there’s a SMALL BOY, sitting on the
curb in front of the gas station, playing with a toy UFO. Or,
at least, he was playing with the toy before he got
completely distracted watching...
...Laura frantically pulls the gas pump from the SUV, without
even letting the tank fill-
-- splattering an unnoticed bit of gasoline as---
she replaces the gas pump and reaches up under her dress
--PULL OFF A SOILED ADULT DIAPER.
Laura tosses the diaper into the trash, hops back in the SUV
and tears out of the gas station, leaving the stunned boy
INT. LAURA’S SUV - LATER
Laura smokes a cigarette and tears down the highway. She’s
staring off into the distance, her gaze fixed on a distant
point in the horizon-- an old Navy trick for staying awake.
Without looking away from the road, she tries the radio. She
finds nothing but static.
Laura reaches over to open the glove box. She grabs a CD
case. She pops the case open, shoves the mix CD in the player
-- “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette kicks in.
Laura cranks the volume up and, as she does, we pan over to
the still-open glove box-
-- to find a loaded hand gun.
EXT. HIGHWAY - CONTINUOUS
Laura’s SUV hurtles down the highway, going almost double the
speed limit. She flies past a sign:
WELCOME TO FLORIDA -- THE SUNSHINE STATE
PALE BLUE DOT
EXT. ORLANDO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - EARLY MORNING
Now wrapped in a giant TRENCH COAT, and wearing a bizarre,
dark WIG, Laura enters the arrivals terminal of Orlando
INT. ORLANDO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - CONTINUOUS
Laura walks purposefully through the mostly-empty airport.
She pulls at the belt of her trench coat, tightening it as if
it were a suit of armor.
Nearby, an AIRPORT JANITOR vacuums the loudly patterned
carpet. Laura walks up and taps the man on the shoulder-
-- startling him half to death. After collecting himself, the
Janitor pulls an earbud from his ear.
Baggage from the Houston flight?
Uh, I’m not sure. Over there maybe?
The Janitor points to the other side of the terminal where a
crowd waits beside a luggage carousel.
Laura heads for the carousel. The Janitor watches her go for
a moment, an eyebrow cocked at her bizarre getup. But,
eventually, he shrugs and goes back to his vacuuming.
This is Florida, after all. He’s seen worse.
INT. BAGGAGE CAROUSEL - MOMENTS LATER
A woman waits beside the baggage carousel, stretching. This
is ERIN FLEETWOOD.
She is a few years younger than Laura but very much the same
type-- blonde, fit, pretty. Though, even after a red eye
flight, Erin is far more rested and put together than Laura