Amateurs

FADE IN:

EXT. DESERT - DUSK

The land of survival. Let your guard down for a moment, your blood will stain the sand a little darker.

THUNK

A SHOVEL drives into the hardened ground, and pulls out a small chunk of earth inside an already dug foot-deep grave.

CHAD (O.S.)

...And then, because these ants aren’t aware that the spore attaches to ‘em the thing turns ‘em into zombies.

The shovel slams into the dirt, barely takes another chunk out. The person doing the work

SEAN (30s) takes his work very seriously, looks older because he takes life too seriously. He can’t stand that he has to hear this non-sense from

CHAD (30s) overweight and lives by the mantra “work smarter, not harder” and smarter always means making someone else do the work.

Chad stands by his car, continues to blabber as he rolls a JOINT.

CHAD (CONT’D)

And that got me thinkin’. What if these spore things, what if they got into humans, you know?

SEAN

Will you shut up already!? That can’t, won’t, and will never happen.

CHAD

How do you know?

SEAN

Because, it just can’t.

Chad stares, clearly lost.

Sean shakes his head, tosses the shovel aside.

SEAN (CONT’D)

(sighs)

The hell with this ground, we’ve been here two hours and I barely made a dent. How about you get your ass in here and see if you get any further.

CHAD

I can’t jump down in there, I’m hypoglycemic, you know that. I can feel my blood sugar plummeting.

SEAN

So what, you just going to sit there and watch?

CHAD

I’m standing.

Sean glances into the back seat of the car, there sits a beaten and bloodied CORPSE.

SEAN

What are we gonna about that then?

Chad rolls his eyes and stomps over to the car, pops the trunk, pulls out a CAN OF GASOLINE.

CHAD

Work smarter, not harder.

Sean rolls his eyes, he’s heard that before.

CHAD (CONT’D)

This is a better idea anyway, burning the body ensures he won’t come back to eat raw flesh.

(to Sean)

Get him out of the car.

Sean heads to the car.

SEAN

Never going to happen.

CHAD

Don’t say never.

Sean opens the door, drags the body out. Corpse hits the ground with a THUD.

Sean begins to pull the body, but it doesn’t look as easy as they make it in the movies.

Sean looks to Chad, gives him the “help me asshole” eyes.

CHAD (CONT’D)

What?

SEAN

You’re really something.

Sean sighs, and begrudgingly gets to dragging on his own.

The Corpse is tossed into the barely dug grave. The Corpse’s face has seen better days; nose broken to shit, a black eye, and bruises. It’s not pretty.

Chad grabs the GAS CAN and pours it on the Corpse’s body. He tosses the can in with the body and holds out his hand.

Sean stares at the extended hand... Gives Chad a solid low- five slap.

CHAD

No, you idiot, the matches.

SEAN

I thought you had em. What were you going to light the joint with, genius?

CHAD

I gave you one job--

SEAN

And what about you, mister “back-up plan?”

Chad tries to keep his seething rage in check.

SEAN (CONT’D)

Maybe that guy has matches in his pockets?

CHAD

The pockets that are soaked in gasoline?

Sean nods, forgot about that.

SEAN

Let’s check the car.

They both amble over to the car, start their desperate search.

The look through the glove compartment, center console, etc. Chad takes the front, Sean checks the back.

CHAD (O.S.)

So, you’re one hundred percent sure zombie’s can’t happen with that spore?

SEAN (O.S.)

Chad, shut up and look.

CHAD (O.S.)

I mean, it could happen some day...

CORPSE SITS UPRIGHT IN THE GRAVE.

SEAN (O.S.)

Chad, for the absolute, last time: it can NEVER happen.

Corpse manages to stand up out of the grave. He nearly falls over.

Corpse stumbles over to Sean and Chad.

SEAN (O.S.) (CONT’D)

Stop the perseverating and find a lighter!

CHAD (O.S.)

Sorry... Mr. College degree. I just think if can happen to dumb ants, why not to us.

SEAN (O.S.)

Because our immune system has adaptive capabilities that prevents shit like that from happening, alright.

Sean pulls down the car visor and down falls a book of MATCHES.

SEAN (CONT’D)

Hey, look what I found--

THWACK

Sean takes the shovel to the back of the head, he’s out, if not dead on impact.

Chad stumbles back, barely avoids the next swing. Eyes go wide at the bloodied body before him.

Chad Immune system my ass.

Chad gets up, sprints off.

Corpse chases after him -- it’s pathetic.

Chad’s too out of shape to stay far ahead, Corpse’s too woozy from the blood loss.

Chad makes one big loop, then heads straight back toward the car.

Corpse grips the shovel, ready to hurl it to stop Chad’s movement--

--Chad topples, falls face first into the dirt.

Corpse limps to Chad’s body. He uses what strength he had left to him over. Chad’s face is blue and unconscious.

Corpse hobbles to the car, he steps over Sean and the blood that pools around his head.

Corpse checks inside, eyes scanning...

Corpse finds the matches on the car seat. He moves to Chad’s body and starts to riffle through it.

Behind Corpse, Sean slowly stands, keeps as quiet as possible. Sean grabs the shovel and continues toward the Corpse. Blood dripping into his eyes.

Barely able to make out the Corpse, Sean raises the shovel and swings it with all his might. He misses and the flow sends him forward tripping over Chad’s body.

Sean hurries to collect himself as the Corpse goes for the shovel again, but before he can get back to his feet...

SMACK!

The Corpse stands over Sean’s body for a moment, then takes a few more whacks at it just incase.

The Corpse searches through Sean’s pockets and finds the car keys.

He jumps in the front seat of the car and turns the ignition. VROOM! It starts.

BING! The low fuel gage chimes on. He looks around for a beat and see’s the red GAS CAN out by the grave.

Exhausted, he sits for a moment. Whistling in and out of his broken nose.

The Corpse sighs and limps his way over. Picks it up and shakes it. Just enough.

He turns, strides past Chad’s corpse... He stops, goes back for the JOINT resting on the floor.

Corpse grabs the joint, admires the craftsmanship. He runs the joint under his nose, tries to breathe... A loud wheeze. This dude can’t smell shit.

Corpse shakes his head; fuck it. He reaches into his chest pocket, pulls out the MATCHES.

Corpse strikes the match, lights up the joint.

He takes a deep drag from the joint, the RED CHERRY GLOWS ON THE FRONT.

CORPSE

Fuckin’ amateurs.

Corpse ashes the joint. The ember falls, lands right on his pant leg--

WHOMPF

--His pants go up in flames!

Corpse screams, tries to put out the flames, but they quickly reach his shirt.

Corpse runs, stumbles into the barely dug grave. He tries to roll it out, but the fire gets to him.

The fire burns inside the barely dug grave as the sun starts to set on the two bodies that stain the sands a little darker.

FADE OUT.