Imminent
EXT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - DAWN
The rising sun shines onto the roof and walls of a modest white colonial house, peppered with morning dew. Chipped and dingy paint marks a few areas of the siding, and the edges of the tiled roof shine orange from rust. Despite this, there are well-kept flowers adorning the patio, and a cheesy welcome mat at the front of the door.
INT. BEDROOM - DAWN
MARY, 59, with mousy brown hair and deep frown lines, stirs as the sun shines onto her face. She sits up, looking briefly over to her side where PETER, 63, with sparse white hair, lies sound asleep on his stomach.
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INT. KITCHEN - DAWN
Mary, now wearing a light bathrobe, saunters into the kitchen with a yawn. She walks over to a counter against the wall of the room, and begins preparing a coffee pot. She turns around, facing the rest of the kitchen, and notices a plate of uneaten food on the center island. The portion of steamed carrots and mashed potatoes appears now dry and plastic-like, and a fly lingers on a piece of chicken breast. Mary sighs, pinching her nose bridge.
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INT. MESSY BEDROOM - DAWN
BILLIE, 23, with short matted hair and wearing a wrinkly shirt, sits at a desk and types on a laptop with a fervent energy. The room is an absolute mess, with bedsheets and clothes strewn about, and the floor almost entirely covered with notebook pages and a variety of other trash. The curtains are shut, making the glow of the computer screen the only light source. From behind Billie, Mary slowly opens the door, cautiously sticking her head in.
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MARY
Billie, honey, what are you doing
awake?
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BILLIE
What do you mean?
(trying to find the clock
on her computer screen)
It’s only...
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MARY
It’s 6 in the morning. You were up
all night again.
​
Billie makes a small grunt in acknowledgment, then continues typing and scrolling. Mary fully makes her way into the room, or as much as she can given the mess on the floor.
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MARY (CONT’D)
You didn’t come get your dinner
last night.
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BILLIE
I wasn’t hungry.
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MARY
I’ll make your favorite tonight,
spaghetti. Maybe you can come eat
with us this time?
​
Billie doesn’t acknowledge this, just keeps typing. Mary picks up one of the sheets of paper on the floor and reads it. She rushes over to Billie.
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MARY (CONT’D)
No. No, you said you wouldn’t do
this anymore!
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BILLIE
(still typing)
I know, mom! But I think I found
something. I found some records
saying that in 1954, there was some
unidentified rocket in the area and
​
Mary draws open a curtain, letting in a bright ray of sun directly onto Billie’s face. She jumps and recoils downward with her hands covering her head, seemingly genuinely terrified. Mary opens the rest of the curtains, all the while stepping over the strewn papers.
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MARY
Billie, I know this is hard for
you. Your father and I have been
trying our best to help you through
this, but we have been struggling
too. Ok? It’s been almost 5 years
now, and the rest of us have moved
on because we had to. But this is
not a good way to cope!
​
Billie has no reply to this, and Mary doesn’t wait for one. She picks up as many papers as she can.
​
MARY (CONT’D)
I’m taking that laptop again. I’m
sorry, but until you’re better we
can’t keep entertaining this.
Mary leaves, shutting the door behind her. After she’s gone, Billie finally raises her head from below. She closes her laptop, sitting idly for a moment afterwards. Then, she sits up, closes all of the open curtains again, and locks the room door. She then cautiously approaches a nightstand--with several full and empty orange pill bottles strewn on top-- and opens the bottom drawer, holding a few CDs, a pencil, and a stack of polaroid photos. She removes all of these items, lingering for a moment on one photograph--a slightly younger, smiling Billie being hugged by a teenager girl with blonde hair. Billie almost smiles at the memory, but instead throws the photo onto the bed and pulls up the bottom of the now empty drawer, revealing a secret compartment. She pulls out the only item: a journal with a worn red leather cover. She opens to the first page, the paper now yellow with age, revealing a single line of calligrapher text: “Susie’s Diary, no peeking!”. Suddenly, a knock starts at the door.
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MARY (CONT’D)
Billie, can I come in?
Billie jerks her attention towards the door.
​
BILLIE
One second!
Panicking, she quickly slams the journal into its compartment, haphazardly jamming the fake drawer bottom back into place. She walks over and unlocks the door, opening it a crack.
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MARY
(holding out her hand)
Laptop.
​
Billie nods and opens the door for her to come in. She awkwardly sits on the bed while Mary takes the laptop from her desk. Before she leaves, she comes next to Billie and rubs her shoulder.
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MARY (CONT’D)
I’m sorry honey, really. I just
think this is what’s best for you
now. We’re in a new town, new
state; you should be going out,
meeting some new friends.
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BILLIE
I don’t want new friends. I’m
working.
​
MARY
I know, baby, I know. But you know
what your doctor said.
You can’t, we can’t keep indulging
the delusion. If there really is
going to be a “nuclear attack”,
they’d make sure you wouldn’t know
about it. And there wouldn’t be
anything you could do to stop it,
either. No one could. Ok? You just
need to stop obsessing over it.
​
They both sit in silence for a moment. Mary, almost helplessly, looks around the room.
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MARY (CONT’D)
You know what? Why don’t you take
your bike out today? Go into town,
look at the shops, talk to some of
the locals? Maybe you’ll make some
friends here.
​
Billie doesn’t say anything, only nodding in reply. Mary
perks up at this simple sign of success, and looks over on the bed.
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MARY (CONT’D)
Oh, I love this picture.
​
She grabs the previous photo of Billie and the teen girl, staring it while sitting down on the bed. She smiles.
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MARY (CONT’D)
Hannah would want you to move on.
She always adored you.
​
Handing off the photo to Billie, Mary gently embraces her and kisses her on the head. Billie remains motionless, staring at the photo as Mary walks out of the room. Once the door closes, she turns to look at the nightstand. Dropping the photo onto the bed, she walks up to the stand again, opening the bottom drawer and retrieving the diary. She flips through the pages, filled with black ink writing up until about halfway through the book, where the rest is blank. She flips back a few pages, coming to one of the last entries: June, 12, 1954
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FEMALE VOICE (V.O.)
June 12th, 1954.
​
[BEGIN FLASHBACK]
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - DAY, 1954
SUSIE, 16, with blonde hair and a white tunic dress, bikes along a sunny neighborhood street. She waves to friendly passers-by.
​
FEMALE VOICE/SUSIE (V.O.)
Today was average, nothing too
sensational. Mom made bacon today
for breakfast, said it was a treat.
I didn’t like it too much, but
Jimmy got a real kick out of it.
​
Throughout this, Susie eventually reaches a house at the end of the road--the house Billie and Mary live in. The white paint is fresh and bright, and an American flag waves from the front porch. Susie hops off her bike and walks it up to the front of the house.
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SUSIE (V.O.)
I forgot to mention it in
yesterday’s entry, but I got a new
bike. Mom and daddy said it was a
“moving away present”, but I don’t
know how much use I’m gonna get out
of it in the city. Shame I couldn’t
use it more here. It’s a lot nicer
than my old one, and it’s red!