Buried

By Dain Edward

In this off-beat horror/comedy, two thugs drive out to a moonlit cornfield to bury the body of a beautiful woman. She may have other plans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dain Edward
• Release date: Nov 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310569289

Book preview

BURIED

an original screenplay by

DAIN EDWARD

FADE IN:

cornfield -- NIGHT

Two cornfields, bathed in silver moonlight, divided by a weedy barbed-wire fence. One field is an early summer crop, the other is fallow. A giant cottonwood tree towers over the fence, sending wispy cotton-ball seeds floating this way and that on a slight breeze. Running along the fence is a two rut road with tractor tire tracks leading to a distant gravel road.

Far away, a muscle car engine growls, louder and louder, a tinny hair-metal song on the radio, louder and louder, until a jacked-up 80's Monte Carlo sails past on the gravel road. It leaves a rooster tail of dust, just visible in the moonlight.

Off-screen it hits the brakes, sliding to a stop on the loose rocks and sand. The engine thrums and the stereo sings Sheee's My Cherry Pie!

The car creeps backward into view then stops, voices arguing over the music. The car finally turns onto the rutted road, the sound of gravel replaced by dirt and weeds under the tires. It follows the ruts to the tree and stops mostly off screen.

The engine shuts off, silencing the music, and the country night is suddenly its normal quiet chorus of crickets. The headlights are left on, lighting a broad area of corn, tree and fence. A door clicks and creaks open, two people slide along on the bench seat as they exit the car. The doors slam.

LARRY (Off screen)

Are you totally, completely sure? Totally?

Larry's voice is deep and slow, booming over-loud in the quiet country. 

HONORE (Off screen)

Yes. This is it. This is good.

Honore answers with a clipped, urban accent.

LARRY (Off screen)

I don't want to do this twice, man.

HONORE (Off screen)

No, it's good. This is fine.

The trunk creaks open. Metal clinks as both men pull things out then they finally walk around into the light of the headlights.

Larry is large and dopey and in his late twenties. The muscle car is probably a result of his being in shop class while everyone else learned a little algebra, and his style of hair and clothes are trapped in his senior year of high school. He's a little edgy.

Honore is slicker, darker and more shifty, his age hard to peg. He's actually smaller than average, but that doesn't stop him from being a little scary. He looks like he might have a foreign accent, but doesn't. He's also more sure of himself, as though he's done whatever they're doing many times before.

They hold shovels and survey the area around the tree and the fence and the car. Honore is looking toward the gravel road, Larry at the tree.

HONORE

Here.

He's found a spot closer to the tree that's harder to see from the gravel road.

LARRY

Hmm. I don't think so, man. 

Honore ignores him. He braces himself and hoists the shovel a foot in the air, then shoves it into the earth. It penetrates about an inch then stops hard. Larry shakes his head.

LARRY

Dude, you can't do that. There's roots all the way out to here.

He sets his shovel in the earth much further away from the tree.

LARRY

Unless you have a chainsaw for the roots and want to take responsibility for the death of this tree.

He glances up affectionately at the tree.

Honore moves closer to Larry, but specifically does not go exactly where Larry is suggesting. He buries the head of the spade deep in the black earth.

Larry shrugs and moves over to where Honore is digging. He's about to sink his shovel in, but hesitates, stepping back a couple of feet.

LARRY

Is this good? Is this the right size?

He gestures to indicate an oblong shape.

HONORE

Just dig. Quit fuckin' around. 

Larry shrugs again and starts in. After a few shovels full it's clear that with a little weight behind it, Larry is digging much faster than Honore. Every few shovels he stops and lets Honore catch up. After a few rounds a rough rectangle about a foot wide and 5 to 6 ft long takes shape. Larry stops again.

LARRY

Hey, uh, shouldn't we go a little wider?

HONORE

What?

LARRY

Wider. You know...

He gestures to