Int. Diggers Cave — Dusk

Blake wakes.

Sees Juba.

Juba offers food and water.

Danny arrives, dumps his backpack on the floor.

Blake stands, still weak, leans against the wall for support.

Part of the wall CRUMBLES, revealing the hidden chamber beyond.

They peer through.

Ancient paintings cover the walls.

Reverently, Danny turns to something on the wall. He traces his hand over a scrawled, jagged “V”.

Ext. Outside Cactus Loop — Evening

Fleabag cruises across the scrub in his pickup.

He’s half hanging out of the window peering at the ground as he goes.

Close to a rise in the land, he spots a motorbike wheel mark.

He stops, gets out, follows the track on foot.

Looks down towards the tidal flats.

There, he sees a group of figures hauling something across the shallow waters.

Dashes back to his pickup, accelerates closer to the beach.

Hides his vehicle behind a rise.

Grabs his scoped .22 sporting rifle and climbs onto the pickup’s tray.

Looks through the scope and using the cross-member steadies his aim.

Just as he’s about to pull the trigger, Drummer leaps into the back and affectionately leans into Fleabag’s braced legs.

The gun goes off.

Ext. Tidal Flats — Evening

Using the inflated tires of his trail bike, Blake floats a makeshift raft into the shallow waters.

Danny and Juba help float it towards the coral reef.

Blake strips his shirt and shorts, stands in his boxers.

He pauses as Juba concentrates on the upcoming tide.

The three of them stand on the coral rim and stare at Juba’s find.

Grips a nylon rope. Slips into the water.

He takes a deep breath, ducks down, loops the rope under the cylinder, then surfaces.

The boys pull as Blake guides the buoyant load.

They roll the cylinder onto the tires and secure it.

As the quickly rising tide moves in, the raft moves with it.

Danny pulls his hand away quickly.

They all laugh when he slips on a sea slug.

Danny’s laugh freezes.

A small ragged hole soundlessly appears on the top of his arm.

A distant CRACKING sound reaches their ears, followed by a bullet WHIPPING past, BUZZING before it ricochets off the cylinder.

Danny falls back clutching his arm.

Blake reacts instantly, lunging to push the boy behind the cylinder.

Danny whimpers, feels his own warm blood, then his eyes roll as he passes out.

Blake examines the wound.

A flesh-wound from a small calibre rifle.

Another round ZINGS past his head and PLOPS into the sea.

Blake rips his shirt into strips and ties the material around Danny’s arm.

The tide continues rising—fast.

Juba nods.

Minutes later, it’s dark enough to provide cover from the shooter.

The wind is increasing.

A full blood moon rises but scudding clouds begin to obscure it.

They trudge ashore, Danny groans.

They rest against rocks up from the beach.

As Juba vanishes into the waning light, Blake looks at the mysterious cylinder, then at Danny.