Logline: A bookish forensic ballistics analyst, shackled to a moving target inside a shooting range, must escape an unknown accusers interrogation, where each incorrect response moves him closer to a tripwired gun aimed at his head.

A pulse pounding contained Horror Thriller comparable to "Buried" and "Holy s*it!"

Email: marty.australia@hotmail.com

PAGE 1

OVER BLACK

DISPATCHER (V.O.)
9 1 1, what is your emergency?

CALLER (V.O.)
Somebody needs to get out here right
now, there’s gunshots next door.

DISPATCHER (V.O.)
What’s the address, ma’am?

CALLER (V.O.)
1 3 7 Norwood Lane. Ya’ll need to get
over here fast --

DISPATCHER (V.O.)
Stay calm, we have help on the way.
Do you see anybody?

CALLER (V.O.)
No. I aint exactly sure if he’s still
in the house, or...

FADE IN:

EXT. EAST BALTIMORE - SUBURBAN STREET - HOUSE - NIGHT

A derelict single-level home, one section of roof covered by
tarpaulin. Graffiti, trash, dilapidation - bad neighborhood.

Two uniformed COP’S, 20’s, fresh-faced and eager, cautiously
approach the front door, guns drawn. It’s quiet.

Cop 1 peers into a partially boarded window.

COP 1
I got a little girl.
(pause)
You see her?

ON BODYCAM

Through a curtain, JEMMA, 10, forlorn, lost, sits on the
floor watching TV. Colors dance on her catatonic expression.

BACK TO SCENE

Cop 2 equips his radio, voice trembling, adrenaline pumping.

COP 2
Two four six, we’re on the front
porch. One young female visible
inside, ‘bout to force entry.