Wind howls. A small ambulance—BESSIE—crests a ridge, its headlights cutting through blowing snow.
Sara, the lab says two researchers are down. One with suspected brain bleed, other hypothermic. Nearest helo is grounded.
Then I guess I’m the helo.
SARA (39), in a fleece-lined jacket, wipes condensation from the inside of the windshield. A satellite phone crackles.
INT. BESSIE - CONTINUOUS
She slams a switch. Bessie’s engine roars. She mutters to herself.
(to Bessie) Don’t die on me now.
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