Matthew Hartsdale.............Peter Davidson
Drew Killian.................Ilin Mitchell-Smith
Erik Sorensen...........................Karl Urban
Moira Donovan....................Angeline Ball
Samantha Kessler...................Katie Smith
Alex McClintosh......................................?
Tori Clark............................Katie Holmes
Graham Diehl..........................................?

INTERIOR

The Marshall's Carriage House

Britta vanishes into the darkness outside. Sam puts her shotgun carefully on the ground and checks Drew's injury first, since he's the one who was nearly strangled.

Sam: "Are you all right?"

Drew: "Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing a tracheotomy and a week in traction won't fix."

Sam takes this very seriously, though if Drew is talking and breathing normally, a tracheotomy probably isn't necessary.

Sam (Muttering): "Going to have some bruising. Might need an x-ray."

Drew (Ignoring her muttering): "Um, there is one thing, though. Two actually... Granted, I was all hostagy and choky at the time, but I caught some of what Sword Chick said... Uh... Is there something you want to tell us about your family tree?"

Sam (Bewildered, shakes her head): "I have no idea. Kessler isn't exactly a common name. I can ask my Dad. What's the other thing?"

Drew (Trying to make a joke): "Well, everybody has different traditions. Personally, in my family, we don't invite relatives over for Thanksgiving dinner unless they, you know, have a pulse."

Sam doesn't laugh. She flushes, and her eyes narrow.

Sam: "Just what are you getting at? You think I knew about her?" (Waves in the direction that Britta disappeared.) "You think my Dad and I relate to vampires?" (Steps forward, towering over Drew, but there's a slight hitch in her voice.) "If so, you've got another think coming."

Drew (Taken a bit aback, but not so much defensive as almost pleading with her.): "Look, I'm sorry. It's just been a really strange day. There are a lot of things going on that I don't understand. And maybe you don't understand them, either. But they seem to understand you. And... I think it's going to get worse. And you're not hurt and you're the one with the gun and the car and... I just... I really need to be able to trust you right now. And... You understand why that might not be the easiest thing in the world right at this moment? You get that, right?

Sam (Backs off, quiet, intense.): "They don't know me, as well as they might think they do... You're right. I don't know everything that's going on, either. But I intend to find out, one way or another."

Sam reaches out a hand to help Drew to his feet. He takes it and lets her pull him up, shaking his head a bit to get the kinks out of his neck.

Sam: (Trying to lighten up.) "I'm not going to hurt you. Intentionally, that is." (She's trying to meet Drew's earlier mood halfway. If you can't beat them, at least you can laugh at them.)

He smiles back, slightly. He's going to be parsing meanings out of that statement for days and for a moment it looks like he might start on that right now, but there's too much else going on and he lets it go for later obsessing over.

Sam: "This has been a really weird evening for me, too." (Looks around the Carriage house.) "I never thought I'd ever have anything in common with Tori Clark, for one thing."

Drew: (Laughs a little.) "Yeah, me neither." (He pauses for a moment, reluctant to break the mood. But when he speaks again, the smile is gone and the quiver is back in his voice.) "Anyway. Um... I think we have a problem."

Sam (Thoughtful): "You're damn right we do."

Drew (Looks around the barn and laughs, only a little hysterically): "OK, lots. But... more than just this."

Sam raises one eyebrow.

Drew: "It's Vivian. The girl you found. I... I'm not sure... I wasn't looking... I didn't know to... but... I think..." (Drew stops and takes a deep breath. When he continues, his voice seems a bit steadier, but you can see the fear in his eyes.) "Sam, I think there was blood on her lips."

Sam: "Oh, Shit!" (Like, Oh-no-just-what-we-need-now. Sam thinks, trying to remember if she saw blood on Vivian's mouth too.) "I have no idea... it was dark. And I was a little too freaked about the teeth-marks on her neck to check her face."

Drew: "Right. Well, let's see how the others are doing."

Graham and Tori seem to be fine, if a bit wigged about what just happened. Alex, however, is not so fortunate. His face is ashen and his breathing wheezes.

Drew: "Where does it hurt?"

Alex (Gasps): "My ribs, you skinny shite."

Sam: "We need to get him to the hospital. Graham, you and Erik support Alex. I'll drive. Tori - You're up front with me and Drew. Nobody gets left alone tonight."

Sam checks outside to make sure the coast is clear. There's nobody around. Britta is gone, and there aren't any lights on in the Marshall's house.

Sam: "We're outta here."

She opens up the back of the Cherokee and rolls out a sleeping bag. Graham and Erik help Alex lie down on it while Sam secures her gun in its rack. She double-checks the trigger-lock and glares at Graham, who was looking at the gun.

Sam: "Don't even think about touching this."

Drew had opened his mouth to say something, but closes it quickly. Graham just holds up his hands like 'no problem. I surrender.' Everyone climbs into the truck. Drew manages to get in next to Sam, but isn't quite brave enough to press up against her. Every now and then, their knees touch, though. Drew looks electrified. Sam concentrates on her driving. She takes it fast on the straight roads, but careful on the turns.

Drew: "So, if Vivian is turned... if she comes back..."

Tori: "What are you talking about?"

Drew: "I think I saw blood on Vivian's lips, in the graveyard. If so... from what Britta said, Vivian might be one, too. And they took her to the morgue... and if she is, and she wakes up, and eats someone... then it'll be our fault."

Sam: "I don't think so... Vivian's eating habits are not our fault."

Drew: "But if we suspect she's a vampire and we don't do anything about it, then we're responsible for anyone she munches on. Because we could have done something about it, and, you know, prevented all kinds of death." (Tori makes an impatient sound and tosses her hair. She stares out the window, trying her best to ignore the conversation going on beside her. Erik and Graham are in the back with Alex, who is in no condition to speak up. Drew ignores Tori as well, his whole attention on trying to convince Sam.)

Sam (Thoughtfully): "You have a point. Fault and responsibility are two different things." (She glances aside at Drew, and there's something new in her eyes - respect. She didn't expect someone like Drew to be willing to take on something like this.) "So, the question is, what do we do about it? If they are vampires, like Dracula, we pound wooden tent-pegs into their hearts and cut their heads off? Sprinkle them with Holy water? Throw consecrated wafers at them?"

Drew: "Well, the legends say different things about how to kill them... All of those methods are supposed to be somewhat effective... along with filling their mouths with garlic and dousing them in running water."

Tori snorts through her nose at that, but then goes back to "I'm ignoring you" mode.

Sam: "Hmm. Don't think the running water bit works. At least, that one I threw in the river seemed to just get... wet."

Drew (Excited): "And remember The Lost Boys, when they tried to use garlic to reveal the head vampire, and almost got killed because that was a myth?"

Sam: "But you guys saw what Britta did to the others on Main Street, right? Cut their heads off with a sword, and they went all... poof-y."

Drew: "Yeah, but what did we see?"

Sam (smiling): "What 'we' white boy? I got there just in time to hear Tori whining about her dress being ruined." (Tori glares out the window [camera catches the reflection] and mutters 'five hundred dollars.' Sam and Drew are not sympathetic. They've probably never seen five hundred dollars, let alone worn it.)

Drew: "I mean, some of the legends say that vampires can turn into mist at will. What if the ones that Britta 'killed' weren't really dead? What if that was all staged for our benefit?"

Sam (Dubiously): "For what purpose? 'Hey, humans! We're here, we fight, and we turn to dust and drink your blood. Watch out!'" (She shakes her head) "I think Britta had more on her mind than who might have witnessed their little fight... She tracked us down afterwards to find out who we are, why we got involved... maybe, whether we'd make good... offspring? What's the word for that?

Drew: "Sired. That's what Britta called it, anyway. I've read 'Turned' or 'Brought over.' Depends on the book."

Sam: "You'd think, if they were hunters, they'd be more sneaky-like about it... But are they solitary hunters, like tigers, or pack-creatures like wolves, or do they just take whatever prey happens along, while they sit back and drink beer like my Uncle Joey?"

Drew: "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But the stories don't say anything about vampires going all Highlander on each other in the middle of Main Street."

Sam: "Right... We're here." (She pulls into a parking spot just outside the ER.) "You still with us, Alex?"

Alex: "Bloody hell, woman. Just get me to some morphine."

INTERIOR

Solomon General Hospital

Graham and Erik help Alex, while Drew and Tori follow into the ER. They flag down an orderly and Alex is wheeled into one of the examination rooms.

Drew (Plucks gingerly at Sam's sleeve, pulling her aside from the others): "So, do you agree? Should we go to the morgue tonight? I mean, Vivian probably won't rise from the dead until tomorrow night... probably."

Sam: "And we don't know... this kind of thing might happen all the time, we just found out about it..." (She's waffling, and she knows it, but there is the possibility.)

Drew: "Right. The cops could have a Vampire Officer on staff for all we know. Maybe the guys at the morgue have wooden stakes and holy wafers in their file cabinets for just such cases. Question is: are we willing to bet their lives on it?"

Sam: "I'm not." (To Drew) "You're the one who brought up responsibility. It's midnight now. I've got two hours until the bar closes. So, in my mind, number one responsibility is getting Alex to medical help, which we've done. Number two is getting my Dad home before he drinks away the mortgage. Number three is figuring out what the heck is going on with the vampires."

Drew: "One and two I'm with you on. Plus 1.5, don't get busted by the cops for underage drinking, which makes Alex's bedside not the ideal place to be hanging out. And 1.6, figure out how we keep something from sneaking in and eating Alex in the ER. Three, I'm thinking is limit the vampire population to the ones we've already got. Which means not letting Vivian wake up and eat the morgue staff. Preferably, not letting Vivian wake up at all."

Sam: (More certain now) "We should go. Better to be safe than sorry." (She gestures to Erik, who comes over to them.) "We're going to go check out the morgue, just to be sure about Vivian."

Erik: "Maybe you should wait, until sunlight tomorrow. Vampires can't go out in sunlight, and I don't think they rise until the next night... At least, that's what it says in the movies."

Sam: "Tomorrow might be too late. Will you stay here with Alex until we get back?"

Behind Sam's back, only the camera can see that Drew looks oddly pleased at the idea of breaking into the morgue in the middle of the night to get slaughtered by vampires. Her continued use of the pronoun "we" is making him light-headed.

Erik: "And miss all the fun of felony breaking and entering?"

Drew: (The prospect of criminal charges, on the other hand, seems almost enough to break Drew's mood) "Don't forget desecration of bodies. I was thinking later we could go kneecap some nuns."

Sam: (deadpan) "Or paddle a priest..." (Drew laughs, probably more than the joke really warrants. He's stunned that she even made the attempt.) "There should be one in the chapel here... I don't think they'd have any holy water on hand, though. Ecumenical."

Erik: "Fine, I'll stay with Alex until his host family arrives. You kids be careful. Though I still say we wait until daylight. Aren't vampires supposed to sleep during the day?"

Drew: "Yeah. But, if we can get to her before she rises, then it doesn't matter. And, if we can't, she might not still be there tomorrow."

Erik (Looks worried for a moment): "Do you know where the morgue is? Isn't it attached to the police station?"

Drew: "Isn't it in the basement of the hospital?" (Off the others' looks) "I don't know, that's where it is on St. Elsewhere."

Sam: (Shakes her head and looks stricken, like a bad memory just surfaced.) "I know where it is. Two years ago, hunting accident... I just don't want to stand around arguing about it. Let's go."

Across the hall and out of earshot of this conversation, Tori approaches Graham. She's walking a little carefully, as if unsure this is the way she should be going.

Tori: "This is all just... crazy." (Shudders) "You're not crazy like them, are you?"

Graham: "Nope. I'm just crazy about you." (His glib tongue never fails, and he's starting to come out of the Scotch-induced fog.)

Tori (Laughs, shrilly, but is back on a familiar footing.): "Oh, you silly!" (Sits down next to Graham, and doesn't object this time when he puts his arm around her.)

EXTERIOR

Street outside the hospital, to Xavier's Funeral Home.

Sam and Drew leave the hospital and head off on foot.

Sam: "The morgue is where the coroner is, and that's Mr. Xavier at Xavier's Funeral Home. It's across the block from the hospital, this way, so the patients can't see it from their rooms, but it's accessible if the doctors need to get there."

Drew: "And you've been there?"

Sam (Sighs): "Two years ago, one of my dad's friends mixed a little too much bourbon into his hunting trip. Saw a deer, got all exited, and fell out of his tree-blind. Dad and I were in the tree across the way, so we saw everything. The barrel of his gun caught him right here." (Points to her chin.) "Took most of his face clean off." (Grins darkly) "Aren't you glad you asked?"

Drew: "I'm sorry."

Sam (Shrugs): "Don't worry about it. Shit happens."

EXTERIOR

Xavier's Funeral Home.

Establishing shot of a large building with red bricks and meticulous landscaping. A pair of floodlights illuminates the "Xavier's Funeral Home" sign out front, as well as the main entrance. There are white Christmas lights in the bushes and a covered drive-up entrance on the side. There's also a patrol car parked out front, but no sign of the police officer.

Drew: "OK, this is where my plan kinda breaks down. I mean, it looks like there's a cop in there. We could just go knock and say I was supposed to come down and officially ID the body. Although, the cutting off the head thing might be hard to explain... Or we could go the sneak in route. I have gloves, so no fingerprints. (He stops for a moment, waiting for inspiration.) And that's pretty much as far as I've gotten with that plan."

Sam: "I have gloves, too." (Pulls a somewhat battered pair of leather driving gloves out of her pocket and puts them on. They have fingers, but no backs) "Let's check out the windows and drive-up entrance first."

Drew: "Maybe we should try the doors. If the cops are still working in there, one of them might be unlocked."

Sam: "Good idea. Hold this, but don't turn it on yet." (Takes a heavy-duty flashlight out of her pocket and hands it to Drew. She checks that her hunting knife is still in its sheath, at the small of her back, but doesn't draw it.)

The first floor has many large windows on the front, where the main reception room is, and a few on the sides and back. Inside, Sam and Drew can see the soft glow of security lights, but no sign of anyone moving around. When they try the door at the side entrance, the knob turns, and the door opens. They sneak inside and close it behind them, allowing their eyes to adjust to the gloom.

INTERIOR

Xavier's Funeral Home

Drew's eyes widen. He points to the floor, where muddy footprints track into the morgue.

Drew (Whispering): "Somebody's been here... If we run into someone, we can say I'm here to ID the body and the door was open and didn't they hear us calling? If we don't... even better."

Sam nods and points toward the door that leads to the stairs down. Drew lets Sam lead the way. She opens the door and peeks inside. The lights are on, and there is no sound from below. They tip-toe carefully down the stairs, trying simultaneously to not make noise, and not look too sneaky. Mostly, they just succeed in looking silly.

Sam rounds the corner at the bottom of the stairs and stops. There's a uniformed police officer lying, face-down on the linoleum. His head is twisted at an un-natural angle. A spilled cup of coffee and a half-eaten donut are scattered on the floor beside the body.

Drew (Freaked, but still whispering): "Ohmigod! It's a cop, and he's dead! They're gonna think we're cop-killers!"

Sam (Hissing): Shhh! They can't prove we did anything. Nobody knows we're here except Erik. Just don't touch anything, especially the body!

Sam edges by the scene, not disturbing anything, and now trying not to leave clear footprints, either. She's read enough Perry Mason to know that. And she checks her watch, just to be sure of the time they left the ER, and the time they arrived, just in case they need the alibi.

Sam: "There's no blood." (She looks carefully at the cop's neck, but doesn't touch the body) "I don't think whoever killed him, fed on him." (She looks at Drew) "So, he can't be turned. Let's check the other rooms."

The first door is closed. It's an office, and lying across the desk is the very bloody body of a janitor. His throat is slashed, and his mouth frozen in a silent scream.

Sam: "He wasn't so lucky."

Drew turns a little green at the sight, but Sam has her hunting experience to fall back on, so she's not fazed.

The next room is a storage closet. The next has several long tables, a sink and a large glass-front refrigerator filled with carnations, lilies, roses and other flowers. There's nobody here. Across from the floral room is the elevator. All the buttons and lights are dim. Next, the autopsy room is empty. Two ceramic trough-tables are spotless, the floor sparkling clean. However, the metal cabinet where the tools were kept is forced open, only a rusty pair of medical scissors and an empty case that had once contained scalpels remains. Finally, they come to the morgue itself.

Sam: "Vivian's body is most likely in here."

Drew (A little shaky): "Actually, I think it's more likely she's down the block looking for take-out at this point."

Sam: "Uh-oh."

One wall is entirely stainless-steel drawers, and eight of them are open. There are no labels on the doors, and no bodies inside, either. Across from them is a rank of filing cabinets, which are still locked.

Sam (Very quietly): "We're too late. Let's get out of here."

Drew: "There's nothing we could have done. We came as soon as we knew." (It's not clear whether he's trying to reassure Sam or himself. Either way, he doesn't sound very convincing. He follows Sam out, looking around as they leave to make sure they're not seen.)

COMMERCIAL BREAK

INTERIOR

Solomon General

A starched nurse is covering the station-desk. There is an ancient, tape-drive computer and she is laboriously flipping through screens, inputting data from patient's record sheets. When Drew and Sam come up to the counter, she clicks "Save" and looks up towards them.

Nurse: "Visiting hours are over."

Sam (Politely): "I'm sorry. We just wanted to check on our friend, Alex McClintosh. Is he all right?"

Nurse (Impatient): "Come back tomorrow afternoon. Your friend should be up and about by then."

Sam (Relieved): "So, he isn't going to die?"

Nurse: "Fractured ribs are hardly life-threatening." (Shakes her head) "What was he doing up on the roof, I'd like to know." (Eyes them suspiciously)

Sam (Feigns innocence): "I have no idea. Drunk, probably. People do strange things when they're drunk."

Nurse: "Wait! I know you. You're that Kessler girl, aren't you?" (Abrupt pity on in her eyes) "Your father's been in here a time or two, hasn't he?"

Sam (Mumbles and seems to shrink about six inches as she "retreats" into her collar like a turtle): "Yes, ma'am. That's me... Um, Thank you. We'll just be going now."

As Sam and Drew go back down the hall, they overhear two orderlies talking at the water fountain.

Orderly #1: "Did you see that broad in room sixteen? Bruises, like suckers all over her, massive blood-loss and hypothermia."

Orderly #2: "Yeah. Weird. Lucky to be alive at all."

Drew (To Sam): "Wasn't Alex in room sixteen?" (They slow down, to hear more.)

Orderly #1: "I'll say. She's in a coma, but they say she should come out of it tomorrow. Damn lucky."

The orderlies move off down the hall. Sam and Drew stop, indecisive.

Drew: "If Alex's roommate is a vamp..."

Sam: "But they said she's in a coma, and they won't let us into the room tonight." (Looks at her watch) "It's after one o'clock, Drew. I've got to get to... to pick up my dad. And take the others home. Meanwhile, Alex is in a hospital, under constant monitoring. He'll be okay. We'll come back tomorrow, and if something needs to be done, we'll take care of it. I promise."

Drew (Yawns): "I think I've had about enough excitement for one night, anyway."

They find Erik, Graham and Tori in the lobby. Tori is dozing on Graham's shoulder. Erik comes up to Drew and Sam.

Erik: "Well, what happened?"

Sam: "We were too late. She was gone, along with seven other bodies. The security guard was dead, broken neck, and the janitor was drained."

Erik looks disappointed.

Drew: "It's time to go home, guys."

EXTERIOR (montage)

Hospital parking lot, to each of the houses where Sam drops people off.

Sam (VO): "Keep your doors and windows locked. Don't invite any strangers in. And you might want to invest in some crucifixes... just in case."

Graham, unusually, is speechless.

Tori: "Yeah, right. You're all insane."

Drew: "We can only hope." (A sudden thought seizes him.) "Son of a bitch!"

Sam: "What's up, new ideas?"

Drew: "I knew there was something screwy. It was right..." (He snaps his fingers) "Right on the tip of my tongue... The vampire legends disagree on all sorts of things. God knows, they've steered us wrong more than once tonight. But everybody agrees, you wake up from your eternal slumber, the first thing you want is breakfast. Human blood's the source of their power. You wake up, you eat."

Sam: "Right... so?"

Drew: "So, two corpses, no bite marks. The cop's neck was broken..."

Sam: "But the janitor..."

Drew: "Had his throat cut, probably with one of those missing scalpels. And his blood was all over the place. If a new vampire had fed on him, there wouldn't be that much left." (He swallows) "Vivian didn't do this, Sam. Britta did."

There's not much Sam can say to dispute this.

Sam: "I think we need more information about this Britta Kessler. I'll ask my dad, (Bitterly) when he's sober enough to answer. (Normal voice again) And we'll ask the guy in tweed tomorrow. Britta seemed very interested in him, and if she is, maybe we should be, too."

Drew (Hopefully): "So... we'll see you tomorrow at Sacred Grounds?"

Sam: "If I don't see you first." (Off his stricken look) "I'm kidding. I have to work in the morning, but I'll come by in the afternoon, and then we'll go check on Alex and his roommate."

Drew: "You'll be okay, driving alone?"

Sam (Thumbs toward the backseat): "You forget, I'm the one with the gun?"

Drew: "Right." (Blushes pink) "Good night, Sam."

Sam: "Good night, guys." She waves and watches until they're both inside Erik's house, and then turns the Cherokee around and heads back into town.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

INTERIOR

O'Toole's bar.

Stan O'Toole: "Last call, gentlemen. Line up, drink up, get out."

Samantha walks in. Her father is sitting in the middle of the bar, flanked by Frank Harris and Joey DiMatto ("Uncle Joey" to Sam)

Samantha: "Hi, Dad. Ready to go home?"

Sam Sr.: "Sammy Jane! Come, join us for one!" (Waves at her to come over)

Samantha (Doesn't move, hands in pockets, shoulders already at half-hunch): "I can't Dad, I'm underage. And besides, I'm driving. Remember?"

Sam Sr.: "Oh, right." (Frowns into his glass, pours the last of the beer down his throat and wipes his mouth on his sleeve.) "Oh, well, gentlemen. My carriage awaits." (Clambers down off the bar-stool and bows deeply, almost loses his balance, but then catches it again.) "Until we meet again, parting is such sweet sorrow... et cetera, et cetera. Sammy, take me home before I blow a gasket."

Samantha is mortified, blushing scarlet, but used to the feeling. She takes her father's arm and steers him out into the street, looking around to make sure there are no Satanic Kittens lurking about. She gets him into the Cherokee's passenger seat and the seatbelt around him. He slumps against the window and starts humming "Moon River" to himself.

INTERIOR

Samantha's truck

Samantha is driving. Her father is beside her, looking out the window. Sam Sr. is a paunchy, balding fellow in his late 40's. He has a very weathered, tired face, and slightly bloodshot eyes. He's humming "Moon River" to himself.

Samantha (Glances over to her dad, and then back to the road): "How you feeling, Dad?"

Sam Sr. (Startled out of his reverie): "What? Oh, fine. I'm fine." (Pats her knee gently) "How's my girl?"

Samantha (Takes a deep breath): "Not so good."

Sam Sr.: "Oh? School okay? How's that new shop teacher?"

Samantha: "School's fine. Shop's fine. It's not about that."

Sam Sr.: "Well? We gonna play 20-questions or what?" (Sharply) "Is it a boy?"

Samantha (snorts): "No! Puh-lease." (She turns the wheel to the left, concentrating on her driving for a second. As soon as she straightens out, she speaks again.) "It's not a boy... It's just kinda hard to explain."

Sam Sr.: "Girl troubles, then? Should you be talking to Mrs. Majors instead?" (He seems amused, playing out the conversation, humming snatches of "Moon River." - evidently quite "happy" indeed.)

Samantha: "My Girl Scout leader?" (Thinks) "No. It's about... family." (She seems to like this direction of thought) "Our family... you never talk about them."

Sam Sr. (Shrugs): "What's to tell?"

Samantha: "Well like, where the Kesslers came from, originally? I think you said it was Switzerland? Or Maybe Germany? And your father's name was George, and your mother was Gertrude, right? Did Grampa George have any sisters, or brothers?"

Sam Sr.: "What's all this about? Why do you want to know about the Kesslers all of a sudden?" (He is puzzled, and a bit alarmed at the sudden turn of topic, and Samantha's intensity)

Samantha: "I met a woman in town tonight, while you were at O'Toole's... she said her name was Kessler, and I wondered if we were related. I mean, it's not that common a name, like Smith or Jones..."

Sam Sr.: "Oh, is that all?" (Rubs his chin.) "It's possible, I guess. Where did you meet this lady?"

Samantha (Speaking just a tad too quickly): "At the coffee shop. I dropped you off, and it was chilly, so I thought I'd warm up a little." (A pause while Sam mentally edits out great swaths of events and dialogue, deciding what to tell her father) "She introduced herself as Britta Kessler. Does that name mean anything to you?"

Sam Sr.: "News to me..." (Saddened) "My father came from a large family, honey. I lost track of them a long time ago. All I know is my father, George Kessler, was born in 1924, in Boston. He served in WW Two. I've got his medals, remember?" (Sam Sr.'s chest puffs with pride) "Wounded in the battle of Midway. Bailed out of his airplane, but not before taking down two Japanese Zeros with him... They fished him out of the water and sent him home to my mother." (He's temporarily lost in the past, but then comes back to the present) "So, this Britta could very well be a long-lost aunt, or cousin, perhaps? What did she look like?"

Samantha (Frowns): "A cousin, maybe... She looked a little older than me... Not so tall, but thinner. Um, very athletic... She had a long, thin face, green eyes, reddish brown hair... Very intense. She spoke with an accent too, but I couldn't place it. European, I think."

Samantha brings the Jeep to a stop in the driveway of a small, A-frame house, which is almost identical to the two houses on either side of it, only a bit tidier. All three could use a good coat of paint. The house to the left has a broken railing along the porch. In front of Sam's house, there is a bed of autumn flowers in need of weeding, which look shaggy and menacing in the dark. She turns off the ignition and faces her father.

Samantha: "If you see her hanging around, you'll let me know, right? I don't know what she's up to. She seemed kind of mysterious, and not really friendly."

Sam Sr. (Mystified): "But if she's family?"

Samantha: "All families have black sheep, right? This Britta Kessler was hanging out with some real weirdos, lots of eyeliner, black leather, Satanic kitten T-shirts..."

Sam Sr.: "Satanic kittens?"

Samantha: "Yes. You know that 'Hello, Kitty' cartoon thing that I loved when I was little? One of the girls with Britta had a T-shirt with a red one, with horns, and it said 'Hello Satan.'"

Sam Sr. (His mood darkening): "Satanism? Cults. Voodoo rituals. Nose-piercing and whatnot... Not good... Not good at all. I don't want you hanging out with them. Sammy?" (Sam Sr.'s lip wobbles) "Promise you won't leave me to join some cult? It would just break your father's heart." (He's teary-eyed)

Samantha: "Believe me, Dad. I don't want to hang out with them either."

Sam Sr.: "Well, good. That's my girl!" (He pats her knee again, trying to get back to a better mood.) "Shall we go inside?"

INTERIOR

The Kessler's House

The front door opens to a short entrance hall with a living room off to the left. There's a glimpse of shabby, comfortable furniture and an ancient 16" TV on a TV stand. A book-shelf on one wall has very few books in it, but several trophies and plaques with winged feet on them, photos of a much-younger Sam Sr. in an Air Force dress-uniform and an American flag in a triangular box.)

Sam Sr. (Stretches): "Well, I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Samantha (Hunches her shoulders and looks embarrassed): "That's not all that happened tonight, Dad... I didn't want to say, but it's better if you hear it from me..." (She knows what's coming) "I got in a fight."

Sam Sr.: "What!?" (Obviously not pleased) "What have I told you about fighting?!? Are you okay? What happened?"

Samantha: "I know! I'm sorry!" (She catches her father's hands, to keep him from waving them around, and looks him right in the eye.) "I'm sorry. I know what you always say, that fighting is the last resort of the weak-minded... But the other guy started it. He jumped me. I just finished it." (Smiles, grimly) "The judo lessons came in handy. And I'm fine. So, don't worry too much, please."

Sam Sr. (Apoplectic, tries to pull out of Sam's grip, but she doesn't let go.): "He jumped you? You got mugged, right here in Solomon? I can't believe it! What is the world coming to? Did he hurt you, or get your wallet?"

Samantha: "No, dad. I'm not hurt at all. And he didn't want my wallet. He just attacked me... I think he might have been on drugs."

Sam Sr.: "Drugs! What is the world coming to? In our own little town..."

Samantha (Puts one arm around his shoulders and walks him up the stairs.): "It's okay, dad. I'm okay. I went for a walk, to get some air. So, I was down by the river when this guy with long, shaggy hair, also a weirdo-type, jumped me. Just like in class, I did a perfect judo-throw." (Mimes the action, and grins) "If I do say so myself. And he went right into the drink. Plunk! Cooled him right off. He swam downstream and climbed out and ran away, so he's okay, too. I think."

Sam Sr. (Caught between pride and surprise and being appalled): "He'll think twice about attacking my girl! But you be careful, honey. That river is cold this time of year. You don't want to give anybody hypothermia, even if they might deserve it."

At the top of the stairs, Sam Sr. gives his daughter a peck on the cheek.

Sam Sr.: "Good-night honey. Please, be careful."

Sam: "I will. Good-night, Dad."

They head in opposite directions to their rooms, and close the doors.

INTERIOR

Sam's room

Sam's room is small, with a sloping ceiling where a dormer window pokes out of the roof-line of the house. The window-seat is covered in pillows and teddy bears. One of the pillows has a plush "Hello Kitty" on a pink background. Everything here is somewhat dusty. In pride of place in the center is a giant, floppy rabbit with worn ears and a matted tail. Along the edge of the window-seat and ceiling hang bunches of dried greenery - pine needles, leaves, shriveled flowers. Each bunch has a tag with the name, scientific name, and location it was collected.

The bed on the opposite side is plain, white-enameled iron, with what looks like a handmade quilt spread over several other blankets. There's a wooden desk and chair also painted white, with piles of schoolbooks to one side. Almost all of the available wall-space is covered with glass-fronted display boxes, filled with dead insects stuck on pins. There are butterflies and moths, blue-green beetles and mean-looking praying mantises. There must be a hundred specimens of all different kinds, each carefully labeled and mounted.

Sam closes the door behind her and sags against it. She is so tall she makes the room look even smaller. She sighs and opens the closet, taking off her flannel shirt and changing into flannel PJ's. When she's all buttoned up, with slippers on her feet, she gets a "thinking... decision" look and carefully opens the door to the hall again. She checks at her father's door, and hears water running. She tip-toes down the stairs and goes into the living room to the bookshelves.

Camera pans over the knick-knacks, pausing on the trophies that say things like "6th Grade Olympics - 50-yard dash - 1st place" and the pictures of Sam Sr. with some of his Air Force buddies. One of the pictures is older, much more faded, of four young men with their arms around each other's shoulders, smiling, standing in front of a B-52 Bomber. A small plastic case in one corner holds a Purple Heart and a Silver Star. Sam goes right to the shelf of cheap paperback books and runs her finger along the spines. Among a lot of Louis L'Amour and Tony Hillerman books, she finds Anne Rice's "Interview with the Vampire." On the bottom shelf are a hardbound set of Reader's Digest "Collected Classics." From among those, she chooses Bram Stoker's "Dracula" and takes them upstairs with her.