THE URBAN
CREEPERS
DREAMA C. ELMORE
DIZZY EMU PUBLISHING
1714 N McCadden Place, Hollywood, Los Angeles 90028
www.dizzyemupublishing.com
THE URBAN CREEPERS
DREAMA C. ELMORE
First published in the United States
in 2017 by Dizzy Emu Publishing
ISBN: 9781973572558
Copyright © Dreama C. Elmore 2017
Dreama C. Elmore has asserted her right under the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be
identified as the author of this work.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it
shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent,
resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the
publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or
cover other than that in which it is published and
without a similar condition, including this condition,
being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
www.dizzyemupublishing.com
THE URBAN CREEPERS
By
Dreama C. Elmore
FADE IN:
EXT. LOS ANGELES STREET – NIGHT
Deserted construction equipment, stacked lumber, extensive,
leveled dirt lot. Department of Public Works vehicle and
two work trucks parked alongside curb. An A-frame barricade
with amber light flashes next to open manhole.
LARRY TRENT (40’s), average, face twisted in panic, claws
his way out of manhole. His orange vest in tatters, clothes
sopping wet. Defensive wounds cover his hands and arms. He
STAGGERS to work TRUCK a few meters away.
JACK ROBERTS (40’s), rugged and strong build, sticks head
out of manhole, doesn’t climb out. Left hand severed,a
tourniquet impedes blood loss. He reaches out with stump.
JACK
(snivels)
Don’t leave me here to die, Larry.
Come back. I need you.
LARRY
Stop it. You know I can’t. . . I
won’t do that, Jack.
Larry scrambles into TRUCK, locks doors. No keys are in the
ignition. He flips down the visor, frantically searches
beneath floor mat, and rummages inside glove compartment.
LARRY
They have to be here.
Larry squeezes eyes shut, bites bottom lip, and peers out
reluctantly through driver’s side WINDOW.
A smug grin spreads across Jack’s face, maniacal eyes
glower. He dangles KEYS tauntingly in right hand.
JACK
Looking for these?
Larry stares disbelievingly. Jack turns over his hand, KEYS
fall into manhole, a SPLASH resonates.
2
JACK
If you want them, come get them.
LARRY
You’ve lost your fucking mind.
JACK
You should have thought about that
before fucking my wife. You made
her feel like a whore. No wonder
she left me.
LARRY
(firmly)
I never touched your wife.
JACK
Bullshit.
LARRY
Call her. If she says I did those
things, I’ll save you the trouble
and kill myself.
JACK
You know, I… they won’t let me
make deals with dead men. Sons of
bitches won’t even let me out of
this hellhole without dire
consequences. Ask the others, they
were warned, too. Oh wait, you
can’t. They’re dead.
Jack cackles. Larry presses forehead against WINDOW, sweat
DRIPS off brow. Suddenly a large Brick SMASHES into WINDOW,
shatters it. Shards of glass RAIN down.
Larry dives into passenger seat.
JACK
They’ll never let you leave, old
friend. You need to pay for your
sins and they have something
special in mind. It’ll guarantee
your family’s safety.
3
LARRY
I don’t understand. What does my
family have to do with this?
JACK
Just think of it as an eye for eye
for your betrayal.
LARRY
I never betrayed you.
(sobs)
It’s them. Those fucking things
are messing with your mind. You
have to be stronger than they are.
A thin voice CRIES OUT in agony within manhole.
THIN VOICE (O.S.)
Help me. Please. Can anyone hear
me? I need help. I’ve been
stabbed.
Larry’s eyes WIDEN with recognition. He FLINGS himself back
across seat to WINDOW, slices hands on shattered glass.
LARRY
I’m truly sorry for what happened
between the foreman and your wife,
but it had nothing to do with me
or the others, especially Pete.
He’s only been with the company
two days.
Grotesque SPIRIT suddenly APPEARS at WINDOW, brings finger
to lips. Its eyes are sewn shut.
SPIRIT
Shh.
Larry reels back. Spirit disappears, rematerializes behind
Jack, whispers in his ear. Jack nods, looks into manhole.
JACK
I thought for sure he was dead,
too. I’ll be right back, Larry.
Spirit VANISHES. Larry stares out WINDOW.
4
LARRY
(begs)
You don’t have to do this.
JACK
But I do.
Jack disappears into manhole, POPS back up.
JACK
Don’t try to run off, old friend.
You don’t want me visiting your
house tonight, right?
LARRY
No, Jack, no.
JACK
It would be a shame for those two
beautiful daughters of yours to
experience firsthand what you did
to good ole Uncle Jackie’s wife.
Larry’s face drains of color, grits his teeth.
LARRY
You have my word . . . I’ll do
anything. Just don’t hurt them,
okay?
JACK
Sure.
Jack disappears into MANHOLE again.
Larry drops below WINDOW, curls into a fetal position, and
CLASPS his hands together in prayer.
LARRY
Though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death, I fear no
evil . . .
5
INT. JILLIAN’S APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Clean and tidy, every light on. All interior doors missing
from hinges. Blinds are closed. Walls are bare except for
faded outline of absent picture frames. Couch is improvised
bed; alarm clock sits on coffee table beside PICTURE.
JILLIAN REYNOLDS (20’s), her pretty face etched with grief,
wears extremely worn coveralls and waterproof boots that
have seen better days. Her arms well-defined, an engagement
RING sparkles from left hand. She paces nervously, thud of<
br />
her boots reverberate off floor.
JILLIAN
I can do this. I can do this.
Jillian SNATCHES PICTURE of her and CHARLIE FISHER (20’s),
handsome and athletic, in spelunking gear with arms wrapped
around each other. She hugs it against her chest, wipes
away tears STEALING down face.
JILLIAN
It won’t be long now, my love. I
need to try one last time to make
things right with Dan. Then, I’ll
be in your arms again.
Doorbell CHIMES. Jillian freezes, fidgets with RING.
JILLIAN
Just a minute.
She sets PICTURE down; eyes linger, mind drifts.
CUT TO:
INT. BARRA HONDA PARK – VERTICLE CAVE – DAY (FLASHBACK)
Desolate chamber, 30m wide, 100m deep, limestone walls, and
no natural light.
6
Jillian and four SPELUNKERS rappel into center of cavern.
Jillian lands first, unhooks from rope, moves to alcove.
Her headlamp illuminates ancient cave paintings.
JILLIAN
Hey guys, hurry up. There’s some
fucking cool shit down here.
Charlie rappels a few more feet, wraps legs around rope,
hangs upside down. SPELUNKERS cease descent, laugh.
CHARLIE
Those paintings have been here for
at least three hundred years.
JILLIAN
What’s your point?
CHARLIE
I don’t think they’re going to
disappear in the next thirty
seconds.
JILLIAN
Stop being a party-pooper and get
your cute ass down here.
Charlie grins, uprights self.
CHARLIE
Sure thing, sexy mama.
Rappelling ropes snaps free, zips through carabineers.
SPELUNKERS shriek. Jillian spotlights their PLUMMET, sees
them SMASH into ground.
INT. JILLIAN’S APARMTENT – LIVING ROOM – NIGHT (PRESENT DAY)
Jillian jolts violently, inhales ragged breath, and removes
prescription BOTTLE for anxiety from pants pocket. She
takes two pills, peers inside. Only four pills remain.
7
EXT. JILLIAN’S APARTMENT – PORCH - NIGHT
MIKE REYNOLDS (30’s), clean-shaven, military-style haircut,
impatiently waits. Doorbell is only light source. His truck
idles beside curb. He presses doorbell, POUNDS fist against
door.
MIKE
Come on, Jill. We’re going to be
late.
INT. JILLIAN’S APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Jillian struts to door, unlocks the two deadbolts, glimpses
CHARLIE’S GHOST in mirror. She whips around; Charlie’s
ghost disappears as she reaches to touch. She shudders,
wraps arms around self, slowly regains composure. With a
deep breath, she forces a smile and opens door.
JILLIAN
You’re early.
MIKE
By two minutes.
Mike steps inside, squints from INTENSE light, and closes
door behind him.
MIKE
Did you ever hear of conserving
energy?
JILLIAN
I conserve during the day when
most people waste it.
MIKE
Sure, whatever you say. Is that
why the porch light isn’t on?
Jillian looks out peephole, flips on and off light switch,
and puts distance immediately between her and the door.
8
JILLIAN
(nervously)
The bulb must have burnt out.
MIKE
Do you want me to change it before
we leave?
Jillian gazes at PICTURE, shakes her head.
JILLIAN
No, it’ll be okay.
MIKE
(elated)
Finally, progress.
JILLIAN
Don’t start.
(rolls eyes)
All I have left to do is get my
backpack and then we can go.
Jillian ambles to well-organized closet where two jackets
hang from wooden rod. One is a man’s JACKET protected in
plastic, the other is Jillian’s. Packed moving boxes are
stacked neatly in the back.
MIKE
What have you been doing all day?
JILLIAN
Watching television.
MIKE
Doesn’t that get boring after
awhile?
Jillian takes backpack from closet’s top shelf, BRUSHES off
dust.
JILLIAN
Why would it? I have like five
hundred channels.
Mike shrugs, looks around room.
9
MIKE
It steals all the time you could
spend painting the next Mona Lisa.
JILLIAN
I was never that good.
MIKE
Charlie thought you were.
Jillian grimaces, briefly strokes JACKET.
JILLIAN
(softly)
He was biased.
Mike sees tear escape down Jillian’s face. He resists
reaching out, shoves hands in pockets, and rocks from heel
to toe.
MIKE
Have you started anything new?
JILLIAN
No.
MIKE
Well, a friend of mine is looking
to display works from local
artists in her gallery later this
year. She’s really interested in
seeing your stuff.
Jillian turns away from closet, shrugs, and sets backpack
onto floor. Mike picks it up, glances inside. It’s empty.
He SLINGS it over his shoulder, walks toward front door.
MIKE
By the way, you owe me big time
for purchasing all that spelunking
crap today. The freaking rappel
kit alone was over five hundred
dollars.
10
JILLIAN
You know I’m good for it. How much
did you get yours for when you
started exploring?
MIKE
(laughs)
Mine? This is a low budget
operation. We bought our stuff on
EBay and it didn’t include a fancy
rappel kit. Besides, we’re in L.A.
JILLIAN
(sarcastically)
Oh, great God.
Mike opens front door, steps onto porch. Light spills out.
MIKE
Like you have room to talk . . .
you trashed all your gear.
JILLIAN
I didn’t think I would need it
again.
MIKE
Well, everything you wanted is in
the truck. You pack, I’ll drive.
INT. MIKE’S TRUCK – MOVING - NIGHT
Country song plays softly on radio. Jillian arranges RAPPEL
KIT, batteries, flashlights, FIRST AID KIT, KNIFE, and
additional equipment, which include book of MATCHES inside
a waterproof BAGGIE, into backpack.
Mike glances, drums fingertips on steering wheel.
MIKE
I didn’t say this before, but
thanks for coming along tonight.
It means a lot.
11
JILLIAN
Yeah, well, you’re my brother and
I wanted to spend some quality
t
ime with you.
MIKE
You still didn’t have to say yes.
JILLIAN
Consider it an early birthday
present. And besides, it’s my last
chance to talk to Dan before he
goes to Europe.
MIKE
He’s blown you off every time
you’ve tried to reach out. Why do
you think this time will be any
different?
Jillian avoids Mike’s gaze, looks out window.
JILLIAN
It has to be. The anniversary of
Charlie’s death is in two days. I
need to say my peace before then.
MIKE
You act like you’re never going to
see him again.
Jillian stays silent, looks at closed businesses and empty
cars parked alongside curb. They continue in awkward
silence.
EXT. LOS ANGELES - STORM SEWER – NIGHT
The Urban Creepers Page 1
