53. EXT. THE WRECK - ONE IN THE MORNING

A sky full of stars against a dark sky. Wind RUSTLES through the trees. Abigale’s BREATHING slowly gets heavier.

Abigale’s face is lit from beneath her. She squirms slightly, opens her eyes, and sits up. Her nightgown is on fire, lit by a collection of splintered wood that’s ablaze.

She attempts to pat down the flames; she isn’t successful. Abigale looks around and spots a glimmer - water - and stands. She stumbles and falls to her knees into the muddy riverside. The flames go out.

Her dress is slightly burned, along with patches of the skin on her legs.

Standing slowly, she squints into the darkness.

It’s near impossible to distinguish anything. A select number of trees are lit by the moon. There are scattered small fires, but they only light up nearby debris.

Silhouettes of people pass in front of embers that have fallen on the tracks, white steam rising slowly.

Fire licks around one of the Simplon’s carriages. A mass of wood in front of the embers is burning.

Beyond the embers burning is a massive wall of darkness, separating the sky and the earth.

She’s pushed suddenly, and stumbles back into the muddy river. Abigle slowly climbs out.

ABIGALE (Whispering): Michael? Jasper?

She steps closer to the wreck slowly. Another person passes her.

ABIGALE: F...Father?

Slowly, CRIES of help, the sound of FIRE, and quiet SOBBING begin to be heard.

ABIGALE: M-Mother...! Father!

She begins hyperventilating.

The sounds get louder.

A barrage of voices suddenly sounds out.

MAN #1 (Overlapping): Por favor, ayúdame. Por favor.

WOMAN #2 (Overlapping): Go to the water! Go to the water!

RUSSIAN WOMAN (Overlapping): О - Она была здесь!

MAN #2 (Overlapping): Help me! Please help me!

Others are merely screaming.

WIND blows. Abigale stops walking and recoils, closing her eyes tightly.

Someone pushes past her, and she falls into a small fire. She YELPS and stomps out the flames, her dress torn now above her knees.

Abigale stumbles forward.

ABIGALE: D-Dad! Michael!

Another person shoves her.

ABIGALE: Jasper!

She squints her eyes, but still can’t see anything.

Abigale leans down and pulls on a chair with broken legs. She presses her foot against the seat’s bottom and rips a leg off. She puts it into the fire.

Another person shoves her. She drops the torch.

A blinding light shines in Abigale’s face. It disappears after a moment. She picks up the makeshift torch and relights it. Suddenly Abigale has limited light, but only shows the backs of people.

A large number of passengers are storming a wooden baggage car, it’s doors sitting on the ground underneath the feet of the people. As Abigale steps closer, the light shows a black overturned locomotive.

A man bruised and covered in soot - an ITALIAN DRIVER - is attempting to pull them away.

ITALIAN DRIVER: Tutti, per favore, allontanati dal treno.

54. INT. THE LOUNGE CAR - SAME TIME

Ratchett sits on the floor of the car, unconscious. Glass is scattered around him, and broken furniture sits on top of him. A severe bruise spans the side of his head, turning purple slowly.

Outside fires light the broken carriage a small amount.

ITALIAN DRIVER (O.S.): Per favore! Tutti! Allontanati dal treno.

55. INT. THE WRECK - SAME TIME

Now people have stepped up to the floor of the baggage car, which is now crowded and clogged with passengers throwing clothes and baggage.

The locomotive is HISSING. The metal casing is tinted red.

ITALIAN DRIVER: Per favore! Allontanati dal treno.

People aren’t listening or don’t understand. Everyone is SCREAMING.

ITALIAN DRIVER: Per favore! Ascoltami!

A few understand, but others are still confused or do not listen. Frustrated, the Italian Driver begins pulling people away forcefully.

ITALIAN DRIVER: Dio, cazzo, dannazione!

Bellanger emerges from the darkness, and approaches him.

BELLANGER: What? What is it?

ITALIAN DRIVER: Per favore, per amore di Gesù, aiutami.

BELLANGER (In broken Italian): Wh-Che cosa?

ITALIAN DRIVER: Queste persone hanno bisogno di andare via. La locomotiva è nei guai.

Bellanger nods. He turns and moves around the people. He bumps into Gabriel.

GABRIEL: Ah! Motherf -

BELLANGER (Quickly): Allontanati dal treno.

GABRIEL: Bellanger, what’s going on?

BELLANGER: I don’t know; there’s something wrong. Step back, just to be safe.

Gabriel nods and steps back. His hand rests on his arm and looks out toward the muddy river. He suddenly disappears into the darkness towards the CRIES for help.

Bellanger bumps into Abigale.

BELLANGER (Quickly): Per favore. Fai un passo indietro. Qualcosa è sbagliato.

She doesn’t understand. He pushes her back some feet and then leaves to address the group of people.

BELLANGER (O.S.): C'è un problema qui! Fai un passo indietro! Vai via!

Abigale stumbles back. An overlap of different languages - Spanish, Portugese, French, Italian, even Russian - make an ununderstandable mess of noise. She turns away from the people.

ABIGALE (Whispering): Michael?

She heads towards the Simplon carriages, passing the crushed baggage car and the derailed sleeping car.

Abigale gets to the second sleeping car, which is split opened in the middle. A mess of wood, metal, wires, padding, and cloths open into darkness. She begins climbing into the carriage.

INSPECTOR CLAUDE (O.S.): Mademoiselle!

Abigale doesn’t hear him.

INSPECTOR CLAUDE (O.S.): Hé toi! Jeune fille!

Feet bloodied by the debris, she enters into the carriage’s corridor. It’s pitch black.

Claude GRUMBLES audibly.

ABIGALE (Calling): Jasper? Michael?

INSPECTOR CLAUDE (O.S.): Fille!

Claude appears, his silhouette appearing behind Abigale.

ABIGALE: Dad!

INSPECTOR CLAUDE: Ce n’est pas sûr, mademoiselle.

Claude wraps his arms around Abigale and lifts her.

ABIGALE: Let go of me! Let go!

INSPECTOR CLAUDE: Arrête ça! Ce n'est pas sécuritaire!

ABIGALE: I don’t care! Put me down!

She knocks the torch into his head. It SINGES his hair.

INSPECTOR CLAUDE: Arrête ça!

Claude turns her onto her stomach and flings her over his shoulder.

ABIGALE (Getting hysterical): Put me down! I need to find my family!

INSPECTOR CLAUDE: Vous pouvez les trouver quand le soleil se lève.

ABIGALE: No I can’t! They might be dead by then!

Claude missteps, and slides down the wreckage. Abigale SCREAMS, kicks him in the stomach, and stands to brush and pluck away the splinters on her arms.

INSPECTOR CLAUDE: Est ce que ça va?

Abigale shoves him and stumbles back up the pile again.

INSPECTOR CLAUDE: Bon Dieu!

He grabs her legs. Abigale slips, her hands trying to hold onto something in the open corridor.

ABIGALE: I need to find them!

Claude turns her around, and he glares at her. This glare is imposing, like the last shred of composure has snapped inside him. Abigale freezes, and Claude throws her over his shoulder again.

He steps down from the debris pile. Claude moves his way through the crowd towards the overturned locomotive, white steam slowly rising from the cab. He swings her, and she falls to the ground with a THUD.

Her feet are speckled with broken wood, dirt, and blood.

INSPECTOR CLAUDE: Tu restes là.

Abigale nods quickly. He turns and disappears into the darkness.