Alpha Male – Story Outline & Script Excerpt

Posted by Spanner on Sunday, February 27, 2011 in Fiction, Portfolio | 0 comments

Alpha Male’s a result of a lifetime’s obsession with the zombie horror sub-genre. When I was 10-years old, I saw Day of the Dead on the first day it came out (Tony at the videoshop used to let us take out any films, regardless of rating) and I was addicted.

Alpha Male was a finalist in the 2008 ScriptPIMP worldwide screenwriting competition, and a finalist in the inaugural Red Planet Prize worldwide screenwriting competition.

I know a lot of people prefer to say Dawn of the Dead was the pinnacle of the genre, and as a social commentary I guess that’s true, but in terms of characters and actual zombie elements I just don’t think Day of the Dead can be beaten. Except by Alpha Male, perhaps.

Below is the outline, character biographies and a script excerpt. Once again, the website won’t retain the script formatting, but it’s basically readable.

Working Title: ALPHA MALE

Genre: Horror

Length/Format: 100-min Feature Film

Target Audience: 15 – 25 year old

Tag Line: The dead don’t follow orders.

Log Line: A Special Ops squadron, which uses trained zombies as an attack force, uncovers a horrifying truth about the war when the creatures fight back.

Synopsis:
MAJOR GRAHAM DRAKE leads a Special Ops team which uses trained zombies as a frontline offensive. The zombies must be regularly injected with NECROPHAGIC SUPPRESSANT to prevent their victims from turning into zombies.

Drake sends the zombies into an insurgent stronghold, but when his unit moves in, they find the zombies inert; they haven’t attacked anyone. The outpost is actually a decimated farming town. When a soldier gets violent with a local, the huge, powerful ALPHA ZOMBIE (which the other undead are conditioned to follow) kills him. The other zombies follow suit and turn on their handlers.

Taking the villagers prisoner, the unit holes up in a school. Drake’s unit begins to turn on him, and he must rely on the help of SAVEEDA – a young, militant Iraqi girl – and the villagers to make their escape. Uncovering a traitor within his unit, the truth is exposed: The zombies were originally from this village – kidnapped by the army and turned into horrific bio-weapons. They turned on Drake’s unit when instinctively protecting their friends and family from the village. Drake’s unit was sent there to remove any evidence of the Special Ops team – including Drake and his men.

In trying to rescue Saveeda, Drake comes face to face with the Alpha – it used to be Saveeda’s father. Seeing Drake helping her, it cuts a savage path for them through the village to safety. It’s mutilated beyond functioning, and in gratitude for its help, Drake puts his very last bullet in the Alpha’s head.

The chopper Drake and Saveeda are escaping in is shot down, and Drake is captured by MELTON (his CO and creator of the zombie regiment). Melton gloats about how Drake will make an excellent Alpha Zombie, before shooting him in the chest – dead. Too late, he sees a syringe hanging from Drake’s arm. Drake’s deliberately injected himself with Necrophagic Suppressant, turning himself into a zombie. Before Melton can scream, Drake tears him to pieces.

The following is the excerpt that got Alpha Male through to the final round in the Red Planet Pictures’ Prize. I’m afraid the proper script formatting gets lost when it’s pasted into the blog, but I’m sure you’ll still get the gist.

Script Excerpt :

EXT. IRAQI DESERT – NIGHT
An animal skull lies partially buried in the dust. A scorpion slithers out of an exposed eye socket.
RUMBLING. Growing LOUDER. Nearer.
A huge tyre passes over, CRUSHING the skull into the dirt.
Two large, customised army trucks trundle across the wide open desert in convoy, headlights off. It’s pitch black, the only light from the night sky.
In the distance ahead, a few small fires burn.
INT. FIRST TRUCK – NIGHT
POV THROUGH THE WINDSCREEN
The desert ahead has an alien, green hue. Flames flicker in the distance. It appears to be some kind of local settlement that’s burning.
BACK TO SCENE
The DRIVER and his passenger, MAJOR GRAHAM DRAKE (38), both wear army fatigues, helmets and night vision goggles. Both stare straight ahead, stolid. Neither speaks.
Drake holds a small electronic monitor in his lap. He doesn’t look at it. The screen is black, empty.
INT. BACK OF FIRST TRUCK – NIGHT
SOLDIERS, about a dozen, sit lining either side of the tarpaulin back. They silently suit up — lacing up boots, tucking knives into sheaves, CLICKING ammo cartridges into rifles and pistols.
EXT. IRAQI DESERT – NIGHT
Both trucks stop a few hundred yards from the burning settlement. There is no sound.
SUPER:
“NORTHERN IRAQ, 10 MILES NORTH EAST OF AL HADR”.
Drake jumps down from his cab. The back tarpaulin cover flies back and the rest of his unit climb quietly out. None have any rank or insignia on their uniforms.
Drake flicks back his goggles. Steely eyes, a face of hardened professionalism. He surveys the scene — a collection of low, concrete buildings fortified with improvised defences. It’s a makeshift military stronghold. And it’s aflame.
Drake consults his handheld display.
INSERT – DISPLAY SCREEN
Black, slight flickers of movement. Too dark for clarity.
There’s the SOUND of GUNFIRE within the compound.
BACK TO SCENE
Drake silently signals his unit to move into the stronghold.
SERGEANT MAJOR JACOBSON (32), bulky, surly, eyes Drake with disdain and spits his disgust into the sand. He clicks his night vision goggles over his eyes.
JACOBSON’S NIGHT VISION POV
Burning buildings. Green and unearthly. Soldiers either side jogging in formation, guns ready. The sound of BOOTS RUNNING ON SAND.
BACK TO SCENE
Drake heads into the compound, flanked by the others.
EXT. STRONGHOLD – NIGHT
The soldiers move silently and cautiously forward. Clearly experienced, they move in pairs, covering each other at corners and doorways.
NIGHT VISION POV
Dead Iraqis, some in civilian clothing, others in uniform, litter the ethereal landscape. Most have been badly mutilated, faces frozen in fear.
BACK TO SCENE
The soldiers step over the corpses without surprise or revulsion, guns trained on the shadows around them.
DRAKE
scrutinises his display unit. It’s still too dark for him to get a decent picture.
JACOBSON
creeps past a burning, overturned jeep. He’s slightly apart from the rest. There’s MOVEMENT in one of the buildings. He swings his rifle round, aims.
In the doorway, the silhouette of a huge, menacing FIGURE looms from the shadows. Jacobson instinctively RIDDLES it with bullets.
The figure staggers, but doesn’t go down. It slopes slowly forward. Still in shadow, it appears to be in army apparel and wearing a helmet.
Jacobson jumps back, fear on his face. He FIRES again.
DRAKE
looks up from his handheld display in the direction of the GUNFIRE. Looks down again at the display.
INSERT – DISPLAY SCREEN
Static. Then a visual — a scared Jacobson, rifle pointed directly into the ‘camera’.
EXT. STRONGHOLD – NIGHT
The Figure comes out of the shadows towards Jacobson. It’s a huge, hulking creature, human in shape, yet ungainly in its movements. Cold, dead eyes regard Jacobson impassively. This is the ALPHA ZOMBIE, and it towers above the Sergeant.
After a tense moment staring each other down, Jacobson lowers his weapon. The Alpha lets out an ungodly moan. Jacobson jumps, despite himself.
Other similar creatures, all dressed in army gear and helmets shuffle forwards. There’s at least two dozen of them. All scarred, maimed, hideous to look at. They congregate around the Alpha.
The rest of Drake’s unit stop behind Jacobson. Lower their guns, unmoved by the legion of walking dead before them.
The driver of the first truck, TROOPER SHAUN REECE (28 – a boyish, amused appearance), sidles up to Jacobson.
REECE
Since when was hide and seek in their bag of tricks?
Jacobson hawks a gob of mucus at the Alpha’s feet. It doesn’t respond.
DRAKE (O/S)
That’s enough Sergeant.
Drake waves his monitor in the air.
DRAKE (CONT’D)
You’re supposed to have fixed this.
(to the others)
Clear the buildings and gather up the bodies. Now, gentlemen.
Jacobson, still fuming, watches his colleagues disperse. Drake walks away, eyes on the handheld display.
INSERT – DISPLAY SCREEN
Black. Short sparks of static.
BACK TO SCENE
Drake punches a few buttons on the monitor. Still nothing.
JACOBSON
squares up to Alpha. Alpha eyes him coolly. Behind him, two dozen dead eyes watch the Sergeant intently. Jacobson yanks a small camera attached to the side of Alpha’s head. Peers into it. Looks back at Drake, his back to them.
Jacobson grins. Turns away from Alpha. Then whacks the zombie in the side of the head with his rifle butt.
Alpha ROARS.
INSERT – DISPLAY SCREEN
The screen flickers back into life. Shows Jacobson jumping backwards.
BACK TO SCENE
Drake turns — sees Jacobson sauntering off to join the others. Drake approaches Alpha. Alpha continues to stare in Jacobson’s direction, clearly agitated.
DRAKE
Alpha. Stand down.
The Alpha slowly turns to face him.
DRAKE (CONT’D)
Good, Alpha. Feed. Feed.
After a tense moment, the Alpha takes a few steps back. It GRUNTS loudly, then shuffles purposely away. The zombie pack follows. They head out of the stronghold, passing soldiers piling up corpses into one large funeral pyre.
SERGEANT RITTER KAHNE
nonchalantly chews gum as he places firelighters around the base of the bodies.
SOMEONE’S POV
Kahne, his back to us. The SOUND of HEAVY BREATHING – staggering towards Kahne.
BACK TO SCENE
Kahne stands up. Blows a huge bubble with his gum. Stops. Senses something’s amiss. The bubble POPS around his mouth. He turns. Sees
A RIFLE MUZZLE
aimed at him, a wild eyed Iraqi militant on the other end. The petrified militant staggers out of one the buildings.
Kahne slowly surrenders his rifle in the air. Moves back. The Iraqi approaches, nostrils flaring. And FIRES.
The bullet SWISHES past Kahne’s ear.
KAHNE
(grabs his ear)
Jesus Christ!
The militant instantly FIRES again.
ALPHA
steps in front of Kahne, the zombie’s chest taking the impact of the bullet. The militant has no time to react — Alpha grabs the Iraqi’s throat, crushes it and slowly pulls the flesh away.
The rest of the unit rush over, guns poised.
The Iraqi’s body falls. Alpha licks the blood off its hand, then, without acknowledging Kahne, shuffles away.

DRAKE
(lowers his weapon; angry)
Sweep it again! I want full comms until we leave!
KAHNE
(still clutching ear)
He fuckin’ shot me!
Drake pushes past him.
SERGEANT MAJOR GEOFF MCALLISTER (45, a medic, with a passive gait and expression) grabs Kahne’s ear and pulls it back. Kahne cries out. There’s a tiny trickle of blood.
MCALLISTER
(sprays something on Kahne’s wounded ear)
It barely grazed you.
(shouts into ear)
ANYONE HOME?
KAHNE
(pulls away)
What the fuck?!
MCALLISTER
I think you’ll live.
(tosses Kahne a cloth)
Hold it up tight. Don’t want your brain leaking out.
EXT. IRAQI DESERT – OUTSIDE THE STRONGHOLD – NIGHT
The zombies gather around the back of the second truck, pushing and shoving. Alpha appears at the back and BARKS at them authoritatively. The pack stops bustling, standing still and quiet.
LANCE CORPORAL PETE BROOKS (32, lithe and attentive) and CORPORAL JONATHAN NOBLE (33, tall, well built, angry) push through the pack. Noble, a gorilla of a man, is clearly scared of the zombies. Both soldiers wear surgical gloves and face masks.
Brooks, stern eyes, climbs into the back of the truck. Unlocks a large, steel meat locker.

NOBLE
opens a metal flight case labelled “NECROPHAGIC SUPPRESSANT”. Takes out a syringe gun. Loads it with a phial of clear liquid. He shoots the gun into the neck of a zombie. The creature GRUNTS. Noble aggressively pushes the zombie aside.
Noble grabs another zombie. Shoots it in the neck. Again tosses the creature aside.
NOBLE
Next! Come on meatsacks! Get yer shots! We don’t want these fuckin’ dead towel heads getting a taste for flesh.
Noble grabs another – the SAVAGE ZOMBIE. Pulls its head back, hard, exposing the neck. The creature GROWLS. Shakes its head, causing Noble to stick the needle through his surgical glove.
NOBLE (CONT’D)
Keep still… Bastard!
Brooks immediately aims his rifle at Noble. Noble panics and holds his hands up (as if surrendering).
NOBLE (CONT’D)
Whoa! Relax! It just went through the glove! Look!
Noble steps toward Brooks with his hand outstretched. Brooks jams his rifle into his shoulder. Steps backward, aiming directly at Noble’s head.
BROOKS
Stay there! Don’t move!
NOBLE
Okay! Okay. Jesus Christ, take it easy! I’m not spiked! It just got the glove!
Brooks radios Drake. Keeps his gun on Noble.
BROOKS
Major! Brooks. I think Noble just stuck himself with the suppressant.
(MORE)
(takes finger off the PTT button)God damn it! You’ve seen what that stuff does to live meat, Noble. If you’re stuck, you’re one of them! You’re fuckin’ dead!
Drake’s voice comes over the radio.
DRAKE
Keep him covered until Jacobson gets there. If there’s no sign of infection, go and check him.
BROOKS
Yes sir.
Jacobson approaches. Half-heartedly trains his gun on Noble, holding it at waist level instead of looking down the sights. He kicks a zombie out of the way.
JACOBSON
Well? Go check him.
BROOKS
Cover me, then!
JACOBSON
Don’t be fuckin’ queer. He’s covered. There’s nothing wrong with him, anyway. Look. He’d be groaning by now.
Alpha begins moving slowly toward Noble. Watches him with a murderous look.
NOBLE
That’s right! I’m not infected! Get your fuckin’ guns off me! Keep that fuckin’ thing back!
BROOKS
Alpha! Stand down!
The Alpha keeps moving.
BROOKS (CONT’D)
Stand down God damn it! Just take off your glove and hold out your hand.NOBLE
Look!
Brooks looks over to make sure Jacobson’s still covering him (which he isn’t, properly). Looks nervously at the approaching Alpha. Moves closer to Noble, quickly moves his scope off Noble’s head and uses it to inspect his hand.
BROOKS’ POV THROUGH RIFLE SCOPE
There’s no sign of a puncture wound on Noble’s hand.
BACK TO SCENE
Brooks relaxes. Jacobson spits on a zombie’s foot and sidles off. The Alpha sees the soldiers relax, and stops. Noble exhales loudly in relief.
BROOKS
(on radio)
All clear Major. Noble’s fine.
DRAKE
Feed the pack and get them loaded. We’re moving in ten minutes.
BROOKS
Yes sir.
(takes finger off PTT button)
Get some more gloves, dickhead.
NOBLE
Fuck me.
EXT. FRONT OF THE TRANSPORT TRUCK – DAY
DRAKE’S POV THROUGH RIFLE SCOPE.
His sites are trained on Noble’s head, following him as he gets back to injecting the zombies. The sight marker never wavers from Noble’s forehead.
A long beat.
BACK TO SCENE
Drake lowers his gun. Calmly goes back to looking at a terrain map. It’s well worn, clearly been all around Iraq with the unit. There are navigation marks drawn on it in red pen, lots of notes have been made on it.
Drake measures the map, marks a position on it. The mark puts them within distance of the Syrian border.
EXT. BACK OF THE CARGO TRUCK – DAY
Brooks goes to the meat locker in the cargo truck and throws lumps of wet, bloody meat (of indeterminate origin, but was that a hand?) to the zombies who’ve been injected. They ravenously tear into it.
NOBLE
God damn. That’s nasty.
Noble is twice as aggressive with the zombies. In his anger, he doesn’t realise he never injected the Savage Zombie when he spiked his glove, kicking it out of the way toward the inoculated pack to be fed.
NOBLE (CONT’D)
Move, you fuckin’ animal! Go and get your grub on. Just don’t let me see it.
EXT. FRONT OF THE TRANSPORT TRUCK – DAY
Drake looks at the early morning Iraqi sun coming round the edge of the mountains to the north. He almost looks content, until his gaze lands on the raging fire in the stronghold — his men laughing and joking as they walk away from it.
His hard visage returns. He folds away his map and bangs twice on the bonnet of the transporter, hard.
DRAKE
Load up! We’re moving!

Exciting stuff, eh!

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