Darkness. We hear the sound of LEAVES CRUNCHING underfoot.

A CELL PHONE is ringing. It rings about five times, then stops.

EXT. FOREST - NIGHTTIME

As we FADE IN, we can dimly see a man walking zombielike through the forest. This is PETER.

In the brief flashes of moonlight that illuminate his face, we see that he's hurt. Blood drips from a wound in his scalp. There's a large welt on his cheekbone near his eye. His clothes are torn.

As he lurches through the brush, we hear Peter's voice.

PETER (V/O):
Suddenly I'm aware that I'm walking. I don't know where I am.

Still walking, Peter groggily takes in his surroundings.

PETER (V/O):
My feet are numb. My chest is pounding. For all I know I've been walking for hours. Or...have I been running?

FLASHBACKS:

PETER'S POV. Running crazily across a field, sun setting behind the trees.

PETER'S POV. Stumbling into the forest, legs pumping like mad.

PETER (V/O):
What happened? Where am I? WHO am I? My name is...my name is...

FLASHBACKS:

PETER'S POV. Violently struggling with a mob of people. Five, ten, maybe more. We can't see their faces.

PETER'S POV. Hands clawing, tearing. Blood.

PETER'S POV: Stumbling away from the mob, running across the field, the sun setting.

PETER (V/O):
It doesn't matter now. I can smell the blood on myself. Something terrible has happened to me. I need help.

Peter stops abruptly. He looks behind him.

PETER (V/O):
Are they still after me? Is it safe to call out?

He listens. The forest is silent. He opens his mouth to shout.

PETER:
Urgh. Urgh.

The best he can manage is a hoarse grunt. He doubles over coughing.

PETER (V/O):
My tongue feels like a dry sock. Throat like sandpaper. Lips swollen.

He straightens up and looks around.

PETER (V/O):
Well, buddy, whoever you are, you're not gonna get anybody's attention with a croak like that. Nothing to do but keep walking.

He resumes lurching.

EXT. EDGE OF FOREST / DRIVEWAY - NIGHTTIME - A LITTLE LATER

The edge of the forest. Peter peers out into a small clearing. There's a driveway leading up to a cabin. The driveway is empty. Lights in the cabin.

PETER (V/O):
I know this place. This place has a name. Leslie.

CUT TO:

INSIDE THE CABIN. The door. Someone is pounding on it.

LESLIE runs into frame.

LESLIE:
Peter?

She throws the door open. Peter is standing in the doorway, croaking unintelligibly.

LESLIE:
Peter!

PETER (V/O):
Peter! That's right, my name is Peter. And this...this must be Leslie.

She throws her arms around him.

LESLIE:
Oh my god, where were you? What happened to you?

PETER:
Urgh.

LESLIE:
You're bleeding! You're...can't you talk?

She takes him by the arm and leads him inside. He stumbles against the furniture, knocking things over. She half drags him to a chair and he slumps down, still croaking.

PETER (V/O):
Bring me water, Leslie. I need water.

PETER:
Gwarhh...gwarhh...

LESLIE:
What...water? You need water? Hold on.

She runs into the kitchen. Peter looks around.

PETER (V/O):
Chairs. Table. Pictures. I know this place. I've been here many times.

Leslie returns with the water and brings it to his lips.

PETER (V/O):
And I know Leslie. I know Leslie...very well...

Peter tries to swallow, but he just winds up coughing the water all over himself and Leslie. He tries again, throwing his head back and making gurgling noises. But the water just dribbles down his chin.

PETER:
Grrah!

Frustrated and scared, he swats away the water glass, which smashes on the floor. He crumples forward into Leslie's arms. She cradles his head as he moans into her chest.

LESLIE:
Oh my god, Peter, Peter, what's wrong?

PETER (V/O):
I know these arms. I know these breasts. I know the smell of her sweat as well as I do my own.

Leslie is gingerly touching the bloody wound in his hair.

LESLIE:
I have to call Don. He's out looking for you right now.

She extricates herself from Peter's grasp and runs to the kitchen again.

PETER (V/O):
Don...?

LESLIE (OFF): (speaking as she dials the phone)
When you didn't come back, we tried calling your cell a hundred times, but there was no answer, so Don was going to just drive around randomly...that's all we could think of...

Meanwhile Peter is fishing a CELL PHONE out of the pocket of his coat. He flips it open. The display reads, 1 NEW CALLER. He clicks a button and the display reads, D BRICKMAN. He looks at the phone, puzzled.

PETER (V/O):
D Brickman...why does that name make my stomach ache like an ulcer? ...Or is that just hunger...? I can't even identify all the sensations I'm experiencing...the sights, the sounds...the pain...a symphony of pain...

LESLIE (OFF):
Don? Oh god, Don, you have to come back right now. He's here, he just came back, and he's all...I dunno, ripped up, like he's been attacked by animals...

PETER (V/O):
No, Leslie, not animals...

FLASHBACKS:

PETER'S POV. Hands clawing, tearing. Blood.

PETER (V/O):
Not animals, but who? And why can't I remember...?

PETER'S POV. Teeth tearing at flesh.

LESLIE (OFF):
...And he can't talk and he can't explain what happened... [a pause] I'm calm, I am calm. You have to get back here, where are you? [a pause] Hurry up, hurry up. I think we have to get him to a hospital... [a pause] Just hurry up, Don, just hurry up. Okay. Okay. [she hangs up]

PETER (V/O):
I am Peter. This is Leslie. We are in Leslie's cabin. Leslie's cabin. Leslie...and Don's...

LESLIE (OFF):
I took a first-aid course back in eighth grade...but I'm not promising anything spectacular here...

Leslie comes back with a damp cloth and little first aid kit. She crouches at Peter's knees and claws open the first-aid kit, looking for bandages and iodine.

LESLIE:
I've forgotten everything except mouth-to-mouth...which would be inappropriate... [a slight pause] ...under the circumstances...

PETER'S POV. Leslie is fumbling to tear the wrapper off a little Band-Aid.

FLASHBACK:

PETER'S POV. It's dark in the cabin, but we can sort of tell that Leslie is down to her bra and panties. She's crouched between Peter's knees...she's fumbling to tear off a little wrapper...it's a condom.

Peter reaches out and softly touches Leslie's cheek. She glances up at him and gives him an awkward, nervous smile.

PETER: (tenderly)
Urregh...

LESLIE:
Shh, Peter.

She gently removes his hand from her cheek and goes back to digging in the first-aid kit.

Peter is looking at the wedding band on her left hand. He glances at his own left hand. No wedding band.

LESLIE:
Don's gonna be back in fifteen minutes, he says...he went all the way down to the townsite looking for you.

PETER (V/O):
Leslie and Don. Don and Leslie.

FLASHBACK:

Peter and Leslie making love.

PETER (V/O):
I loved this woman. Loved her...and lost her.

PETER (V/O):
Maybe that explains the...ulcer...

Peter suddenly doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach and letting loose a terrible growl.

PETER:
AAARGH!

LESLIE:
Peter!

PETER (V/O):
So many varieties of pain! Is it possible this is simply hunger? Not that it makes much difference, I couldn't swallow anything anyway...

Leslie wraps her arms around him, which seems to soothe him. He inhales the scent of her hair.

LESLIE:
I wish I knew what happened to you...I wish I'd been with you...oh, Peter, I was so worried...

PETER (V/O):
That smell...

She pulls away and goes behind him to wash his head wounds with the damp cloth. He leans back into her chest and closes his eyes.

LESLIE:
Was it animals? Wild animals?

He shakes his head.

PETER (V/O):
Don't talk, just let me breathe you in...

LESLIE:
Men? Did men do this to you?

No response. He breathes deeply.

PETER (V/O):
Just let me smell you...so overpowering...

She leans over him and explores the welt on the left side of his face.

LESLIE:
How could a person have done this? Look at this wound...

PETER (V/O):
So...delicious.

CLOSEUP. Peter opens his eyes.

PETER'S POV. Leslie's left hand is hanging down right in front of his eyes. But the fingers are blurry...

LESLIE:
God, Peter, it looks like...like someone bit you...

CLOSEUP. Peter blinks.

PETER'S POV. They're not fingers after all. They're CHICKEN FINGERS.

The chicken fingers are dancing tantalisingly in front of his face, practically brushing his lips. He sniffs them. Then, with a growl, Peter chomps down on the chicken finger dangling nearest his mouth.

Leslie screams and staggers away, her ring finger missing.

CLOSEUP. The bloody wedding band bounces off the hardwood floor.

Leslie backs up against the nearest wall, staring at the stump of her finger.

Peter stands and turns to look at her, blood dripping down his chin, noisily chewing. He swallows.

PETER (V/O):
So I can swallow after all...and suddenly this pain in my stomach isn't quite so intense. Things are starting to get a little clearer.

LESLIE: (quietly)
Peter...?

PETER (V/O):
There's so much I want to explain to you right now, Leslie...how much it hurts to have you near me...how beautiful you look...how beautiful you smell...and how your taste brings back memories...memories a hundred thousand years old...

He takes a step forward, arms extended beseechingly.

PETER (V/O):
But somehow when I open my mouth, the only thing I can get out is...

PETER:
Rrr, brains!

He lurches toward her. She screams.

EXT. DRIVEWAY - NIGHTTIME - A LITTLE LATER

A pickup truck screeches to a halt and DON hops out. He runs to the front door.

CUT TO:

INSIDE THE CABIN. Don bursts in and finds Peter crouched over Leslie's body, feasting on her brains.

DON:
Oh my god...Leslie...Peter, what have you...?

Peter stands and lunges at him, arms extended, growling.

Don bolts for the door.

Out on the porch he stops. There are a dozen ZOMBIES slowly trudging up the driveway. They're almost at his truck.

Don decides to head for the woods behind the house. He hops off the porch and takes a few steps in that direction. But three more zombies pop out from behind the house and drag him screaming to the ground.

CUT TO:

THE PORCH. Peter comes outside and looks down at Don being torn apart by zombies.

PETER (V/O):
Now, now the memories are flooding back. Darkness. Silence. Eyeless centuries spent incubating in a mote of dust. And always the hunger whispering, whispering...go forth and multiply. Go forth and feed.

CLOSEUP. Don's left hand is clawing the air.

Peter steps down off the porch and goes to join the feast.

PETER (V/O):
Hey...save a finger for me, guys.

CLOSEUP. Don's hand stops twitching. His WEDDING BAND is gleaming in the moonlight.

FADE TO BLACK.