The people, the people!

(bombs
pass
and we
bark)

His name is Mazen Kerbaj. He remains defiant amid the rubble of Beirut.

To be goaded by a panda.

The Sky Was Grey, draft 3.1, another context-free sample:

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12. EXT. ELEVATED WATERTANK- DUSK 12.

The radio facade reflects a technicolour sunset. Wind whistles at such height, sends spinifex scudding along the ground.

RADIO BROADCASTER (CONT’D)
It hurts to say, but, but it’s a far cry
from being over. We have word
that Bernie has reached the
inner-belt, vicinity of Karijini
district, and it’s officially escalated
into category-5 intensity.

The broadcast fizzes, drones. Talk is unintelligible. Finally it ceases, bereft of power, gives way to the wind.

Strati huddles along the horizon; ribbons of sunset unfurl.

13. INT. SPACIOUS SHED- MORNING 13.

MONTAGE: Len darts from corner to corner, gathering miscellany from every nook and cranny; rope, candles, torches, tarpaulin, etc. He pops his head out the doorway in intermittent bursts to assess the skies. Finally, everything is accrued on the table.

Bernie walks in, frazzle-eyed.

BERNIE
You gotta see this! There’s clouds
everywh-

He sees the gear, freezes. Looks to Len-

LEN
It's over.

Bernie’s eyes augment, jaw falls agape.

LEN (CONT’D)
Lend me a hand, mate?

Bernie nods.

14. EXT. SPACIOUS SHED- MIDDAY 14.

Father and son board the windows. Len works the hammer--BANG BANG BANG--as Bernie stands beside him with a jar of nails. The latter is distant, gazing into the cloudy skies.

BERNIE
How far, Len? How far away’s Bernie?

Len BANGS one last time, turns to face Bernie, incredulous. Bernie realises, smirks.

BERNIE
Exactly how I imagined it.

Suddenly Bernie runs inside with the nails. They jingle.

BERNIE (O.S.)
Where’s the radio?

LEN
(to himself)
Shit.

Bernie comes back out.

LEN (CONT’D)
Stay here. Please just stay here.
Yeah?

Bernie nods. Len takes off toward the watertank.

15. EXT. VAST RURAL FLATLANDS- MIDDAY 15.

A tiny figure dashes across the landscape. Heavy clouds consume the sky; it is suddenly dark. Wind howls the atmosphere into a dustbowl. It is the set of a nightmare.

16. EXT. SPACIOUS SHED- AFTERNOON 16.

Len pulls up, radio in hand. He walks into the shed-

LEN (O.S.)
Batteries. You seen ‘em?
(beat)
Bernie! Batteries!
(beat)
Bernie?!

He comes running out. Heads to Bernie’s shed.

LEN (O.S.)
Bernard!

Comes straight back out and peers across the panorama.

LEN
Shit!

But his voice falls limp against the wind.

17.INT. 4-WHEEL DRIVE- AFTERNOON 17.

MONTAGE: Len drives across the flatlands. The sky is surreal through the windscreen. The radio bobs and jounces on the passenger seat. The vehicle idles as Len assesses which direction to go next. Len leans forward, peers upwards out the windscreen. He slams the steering wheel with three vicious fists: BLEAT BLEAT BLEAT.

A movement nearby; Bernie. He scurries to the car with an impish smile. Len winds the window down feverishly, the wind gushes in with a roar.

LEN
Get in!

BERNIE
No. This is our chance, you see?

LEN
Bernie. Pardoo’s been decimated.
This is real. It’s not a book. Please.
Please get in.

Bernie licks his lips. His hands twitch.

LEN (CONT’D)
Look, it’s a cyclone, okay? Just a
cyclone. Weather.
Lightning-

Immense lightning and thunder in the distance. Len looks to it; not Bernie.

BERNIE
Nature, you mean.

Their eyes lock for a beat. Len looks aghast.

BERNIE
Sorry, Len.

Bernie struts off in the direction he came from.

18. EXT. 4-WHEEL DRIVE- SAME 18.

Len frantically debarks the vehicle. He takes the radio.

LEN
Wait! Wait! Where are we going?

Bernie points to a tent in a small basin not far off, and makes moves.

19. INT. TENT- NIGHTFALL 19.

Len enters. He sits beside Bernie. Space is scarce. The walls squirm in the wind with the sound of a thousand cracked whips. Bernie cannot hide his mirth. He fishes a raft of candles out of a bag, lights them. Welcome to Bernie’s World.

BERNIE
Waiting for the epicentre.

Len nods cautiously.

BERNIE (CONT’D)
(impassioned)
The epicentre. Light winds, clear
skies, perfect, perfect peace. Surrounded
every side by towering vertical walls
of thunderstorm. Eyewalls.

Len brings his hand to his chin, afraid.

BERNIE
She went up. Flew. We both saw it.
(Beat)
The radio.

20. EXT. VAST RURAL FLATLANDS- NIGHT 20.

The tent is incandescent with candleglow; a small floating lantern buoyed by a sea of black. We hear different shades of static flittered through, but no talkback.

21. EXT. VAST RURAL FLATLANDS- ??? 21.

The sky is grey. Gales blow everything into a dervish. Three nondescript figures frolic amid it all. Their shapes are undefined, warped, like peering through an hourglass. Lightning sparks. Thunder cracks. In the blink of an eye, one figure loses their footing, hovers for a bit, falls, tumbles a short distance. The remaining figures embrace one another. At once, Audrey is swept upwards and upwards and upwards into the great heavenly expanse. She does not come down. Lightning cracks nearby and the ground shakes. Len and Bernie retreat.

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