He starts the engine. Turns on the radio. Drives away.
He's already forgotten her.
Frame 1:
Wide shot. A grey Yorkshire village under drizzle. Pebbledashed bungalows stretching into nothing. An empty street. A mobility scooter parked outside a post office with a CLOSED sign. A single car passes. Doesn't stop.
No music. Just rain on concrete.
Frame 2:
A white van rounds the corner. "BOB THE BUILDER - NO JOB TOO BIG" on the side. The paint is faded. One hubcap missing. It pulls up outside a bungalow.
Frame 3:
Bob steps out. Hard hat. High-vis. Toolbox. Big smile. He looks at the bungalow like a man surveying his kingdom.
He whistles as he walks to the door.
Frame 4:
Interior. Doris's kitchen. Floral wallpaper. Photos of grandchildren on the fridge held up with magnets from seaside towns. A cat on the windowsill. A clock ticking. A world frozen in 1997.
Doris opens the door. Small. Frail. Cardigan. Slippers. She lights up when she sees Bob.
DORIS
Oh Bob! Thank goodness. Come in come in. I've put the kettle on.
BOB
Morning Doris. Right then, let's have a look at this tap.
Frame 5:
Bob under the sink. Doris hovering nearby with a cup of tea she's made for him. She's already poured it. She always has one ready.
BOB
from under the sink
Yeah... yeah see this is what I thought. You've got your valve corrosion here Doris. Quite advanced.
DORIS
worried
Oh dear. Is it bad?
BOB
Could've been a lot worse. Lucky you called me when you did.
Frame 6:
Extreme close-up of the actual problem. A loose washer. Completely mundane. Bob's hand reaching in with a wrench. A two-second fix.
The audience sees what Doris can't.
Frame 7:
Bob sliding out from under the sink. Wiping his hands on a rag. Grave expression. Professional. Practiced. He's done this performance a thousand times.
BOB
Right. I've stabilised it for now but you'll want to keep an eye on that. Any more trouble you call me straight away yeah?
DORIS
What do I owe you Bob?
Bob sucks air through his teeth. Shakes his head slowly. The theatre of a man about to deliver a number.
BOB
Well... parts alone were about two hundred... labour... call it three eighty.
Frame 8:
Close-up of Doris's hands. Frail. Arthritic. Reaching into a kitchen drawer. She pulls out an envelope. Pre-prepared. She always has one ready for Bob too.
She counts out the notes. Carefully. Slowly.
£20. £20. £20. £20...
These are her savings.
Frame 9:
Bob taking the envelope. Not counting it. He never counts it. He trusts Doris. Doris trusts him. The transaction is built on mutual faith. Except one of them is lying.
BOB
Champion. Same time next month for the boiler service?
DORIS
Oh yes please. You know me, I worry.
BOB
That's what I'm here for Doris.
Frame 10:
Doris at her front door. Waving. Smiling. Small against the frame of the house. Bob walking to his van. Not looking back.
DORIS
You're a good lad Bob.
Bob raises a hand without turning around. A wave. Automatic. Routine.
Frame 11:
Interior of the van. Bob opens the glovebox. Inside: a shoebox. Stuffed with cash envelopes. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. He adds Doris's. Closes it.
Frame 12:
Interior. The only pub in Askern. Half-empty. Tuesday afternoon. Sticky carpet. Fruit machine flickering in the corner.
Bob and Pickles at a table. Two pints.
Frame 13:
At the bar: a man, mid-forties, alone. Astra keys on the bar next to a half-drunk pint of mild. He's nursing it. He's been nursing it for two hours. He is not from here, but he is from somewhere very like here.
BOB
Mrs Braithwaite's tap. Mrs Crawley's guttering. Doris again.
PICKLES
knowingly
Doris. How much this time?
PICKLES
impressed
For what?
They drink. The man at the bar drinks too.
* * *
Frame 14:
Pickles leaning back. Contemplative. The kind of conversation that only happens on the third pint.
PICKLES
You ever think about getting things... tidied up Bob? Down below like?
BOB
frowning
What the foundations?
PICKLES
...Yeah. The foundations.
BOB
Nah. Original features Pickles. That's where the value is.
Pickles nods slowly. They drink.
The conversation moves on.
The audience does not move on.
The audience will never move on.
* * *
Frame 15:
Bob standing. Finishing his pint. Putting on his jacket.
BOB
Right. Best get back to it.
PICKLES
genuine, almost tender
...Look after yourself mate.
It's a throwaway line. Men say it to each other in pubs every day. It means nothing.
Except this time it means everything.
Because Pickles will never see Bob again.
BOB
already walking away
Always do Pickles. Always do.
* * *
Frame 16:
Bob has left. Pickles is finishing his pint. The pub is quieter now.
The phone behind the bar rings. The landlord answers it.
LANDLORD
into phone
Yeah he's here. Hold on.
LANDLORD
calling
PICKLES. It's your missus.
Pickles gets up. Goes to the bar. Takes the phone.
The man with the Astra keys is now sitting at the bar two stools from Pickles. Not looking at him. Pretending to read a beermat.
PICKLES
into phone
What?... When?... Bloody hell. The Russian one?... He said yes?... Course he said yes, it's Bob... When's he off?... Tonight?... TONIGHT?... Right. Right. I'll be home in a bit.
He hangs up. Stares at the phone. Shakes his head. Goes back to his table to finish his pint, muttering "stupid bastard, stupid bastard" under his breath.
The man at the bar drains his pint in one. Stands up. Puts a fiver on the bar. Pats his pocket to check his keys are there. Walks out of the pub.
The landlord watches him go.
LANDLORD
to no one
That bloke's going to do something stupid.
Scene 4: The Workshop
Frame 18:
Bob's workshop. A converted garage. Messy but proud. The walls covered in framed certificates. "BEST BUILDER — ASKERN GAZETTE 2003." "HIGHLY COMMENDED — DONCASTER TRADES FAIR." A photo of Bob shaking hands with someone from the Rotary Club.
All self-nominated. Most fabricated entirely.
Frame 19:
The machines. Scoop, Muck, Dizzy, Lofty and Roley. Parked in a neat row behind the workshop. Bright primary colours. Cartoon eyes. Smiling faces.
They look wrong here. Too bright. Too clean. Too happy for this grey village. Like clip art pasted onto a photograph.
Frame 20:
Interior. Wendy at a desk in the corner of the workshop. Calculator. Paperwork. She's staring at an invoice. £380. For a washer. Her face says nothing. Her eyes say everything.
The phone rings. She doesn't move. It rings again. And again.
Bob walks in and picks it up.
Scene 5: The Call
Frame 21:
Bob on the phone. Leaning against the workbench. Casual. Confident. One hand in his pocket.
BOB
Bob the Builder, no job too big. Bob speaking.
VOICE
crackly, distant, foreign
Hello? Is this Bob? The builder?
BOB
The one and only mate.
Frame 22:
On the other end. A grey Soviet office. A man in a sweat-stained shirt. Maps of the reactor pinned to every wall. Red telephones. Overflowing ashtrays. Chaos in the background. People running. Shouting. Sirens.
The man grips the phone like a lifeline.
OFFICIAL
We have heard of your reputation. We have problem. Big problem.
BOB
Right well you've called the right bloke. What's the job?
OFFICIAL
Is reactor. Nuclear reactor. There has been... incident. We need someone who can fix.
Frame 23:
Close-up of Bob's face. Processing the word "nuclear."
A beat. This is the moment. The fulcrum. Everything before this is a man who overcharges for tap repairs. Everything after this is a man who walks into a reactor.
Any normal person would hesitate.
He glances at his certificates on the wall. Best Builder. Highly Commended. Expert.
Frame 24:
Wendy. Standing in the doorway. She's heard everything. Her hand is on the door frame. White-knuckled.
BOB
hand over receiver, grinning
Wendy pack me thermos. I'm going international.
Wendy stares at him. This is the moment she could stop it. Could say no. Could scream. Could unplug the phone.
She doesn't.
She never does.
Scene 6: Packing
Frame 25:
Bob's toolbox. Open. He's packing it with absolute confidence.
A trowel. A hammer. A spirit level. A tub of Polyfilla. A roll of duct tape. A can of WD-40. A copy of the Daily Express from 1984.
He surveys it. Nods. Satisfied.
Frame 26:
Bob loading the van. The machines watching from behind the workshop. Excited. Eager.
MUCK
Are we going on a trip Bob?
BOB
We are Muck! Big job. Abroad.
MUCK
excited
Ooh! Is it France?
BOB
laughing
Bit further than France love.
SCOOP
What kind of job Bob?
BOB
Reactor repair. Technical stuff. Right up our street.
LOFTY
nervous
What's a reactor Bob?
BOB
dismissive
Big boiler basically. Industrial. Nothing we haven't seen before.
Lofty's crane arm droops slightly. He doesn't believe Bob. He never believes Bob. But he always follows anyway.
Frame 27:
Wendy standing at the workshop door. Arms crossed. Watching Bob load up. The machines chattering excitedly around her.
Bob approaches. Keys in hand.
BOB
Right. We'll be back in a week. Two tops.
BOB
Doris needs her boiler looked at on Tuesday. Tell her I'll do it when I'm back. Charge her the callout fee for the delay.
BOB
And Mrs Crawley's guttering. Tell her—
WENDY
firm
Bob. Do you even know what a nuclear reactor is?
Beat.
BOB
grinning
Wendy. Have I ever let you down?
Wendy looks at him. Really looks at him. This is a man she's lived with for years. Made excuses for. Cooked the books for. Watched him lie and overcharge and charm his way through a village of people who trusted him.
She opens her mouth.
Closes it.
WENDY
barely audible
...No Bob.
It's the biggest lie she's ever told. And she's told a lot of them.
Frame 28:
Bob climbing into the van. The machines loaded onto a flatbed trailer behind. Muck bouncing. Scoop steady. Dizzy spinning. Lofty trembling. Roley silent.
Bob starts the engine. Gives Wendy a thumbs up through the window.
The machines, in unison:
Bob drives away. Down the grey street. Past the post office. Past the pub. Past Doris's bungalow.
Wendy watches from the doorway until the van turns the corner.
She stands there for a long time after it's gone.
Frame 29:
The van disappearing down a long straight road. Flat Yorkshire countryside. Grey sky. Getting smaller. Smaller.
Gone.
Scene 7: Chernobyl — Arrival
CHERNOBYL NUCLEAR POWER PLANT
APRIL 29, 1986
THREE DAYS AFTER THE EXPLOSION
Frame 31:
Wide shot. The power plant. Reactor Four. Smoke still rising. The scale is enormous. Brutal. Soviet concrete against a bruised sky.
In the foreground. Tiny. Almost comically small against the devastation.
A white van.
"BOB THE BUILDER - NO JOB TOO BIG"
Frame 32:
Bob stepping out of the van. Same hard hat. Same high-vis. Same toolbox. Same smile.
Around him: chaos. Military vehicles. Soldiers in gas masks. Scientists in hazmat suits. Helicopters overhead. The ground is wet with decontamination fluid.
Bob looks up at the smoking reactor.
He sucks air through his teeth.
BOB
nodding slowly
Yeah. Yeah I see the problem.
Frame 33:
The Soviet official approaching Bob. He looks like he hasn't slept in three days. Because he hasn't. His shirt is stained. His hands are shaking.
He stares at Bob. At the hard hat. The high-vis. The toolbox.
Something dies behind his eyes.
BOB
extending hand
Bob the Builder. No job too big.
OFFICIAL
not shaking the hand
Where is your... equipment? Your team?
BOB
gesturing behind him
Team's on the trailer. Equipment's in the toolbox. I travel light.
The official looks at the trailer. At the machines. Bright yellow. Cartoon eyes. Smiling.
Muck waves.
The official turns back to Bob.
OFFICIAL
very quiet
...We are going to die.
Every alarm in the facility is functional. Every sensor screaming. The reactor is doing everything in its power to warn him.
Bob is not listening.
BOB
not listening, surveying the reactor
Now that crack up there. That structural or cosmetic?
Scene 8: Narrator Begins to Fade
Up until now the NARRATOR has been present. Warm. Measured. In control. Bridging scenes. Providing context.
From this point the narrator starts to thin. Lines shorter. Gaps longer. Less certain.
NARRATOR: Bob entered the exclusion zone at approximately 2pm.
That's it. No elaboration. No warmth. Just the fact.
Frame 35:
Bob walking toward the reactor building. Soldiers trying to stop him. He waves them off.
SOLDIER
in Russian, subtitled
You cannot go in there. You will die.
BOB
not understanding, smiling, giving thumbs up
Cheers mate. Won't be long.
Frame 36:
Bob at the entrance to the reactor building. The doors are buckled. The walls are blackened. Steam pours from cracks in the concrete.
He puts down his toolbox. Opens it. Surveys his tools.
He picks up the Polyfilla.
Hefts it.
Nods.
He walks in.
Frame 37:
The machines. Still on the trailer. Still in the car park. Watching Bob walk into the building.
Scoop is still. Muck is quiet for once. Dizzy has stopped spinning.
Lofty speaks.
LOFTY
small
...I don't think he should go in there.
Nobody responds.
Scene 9: Inside the Reactor
Frame 39:
Interior. The reactor building. A corridor. Red emergency lighting. Steam. The walls are warped. Paint bubbling. Metal twisted into shapes that shouldn't exist.
Bob walks through it. Toolbox in one hand. Polyfilla in the other.
His footsteps echo.
NARRATOR: Bob proceeded to level—
Pause.
NARRATOR: He...
Long pause.
Nothing.
The narrator is gone.
From this point: no narration. Just sound. Bob's breathing. His footsteps. The distant rumble of the reactor. A Geiger counter somewhere, clicking. Slow at first.
Frame 40:
Bob rounding a corner. The corridor opens up. Wider. The damage is worse here. Ceiling panels hanging. Pipes burst. Water on the floor. But not water. Something else. It glows faintly.
Bob steps over it.
BOB
muttering to himself
Bit of damp. Needs ventilation.
Frame 41:
Bob passing a wall. On the wall: a radiation warning sign. The universal trefoil. Yellow and black.
Bob glances at it.
BOB
muttering
Health and safety gone mad.
He keeps walking.
Frame 42:
The geiger counter sound is louder now. Faster. More insistent.
Bob doesn't hear it. Or doesn't know what it means.
The camera shows his exposed skin. His arms. Pink. Normal. For now.
Frame 43:
Bob enters a larger space. A control room maybe. Destroyed. Panels smashed. Screens shattered. Papers everywhere. A chair overturned.
On the desk: a coffee mug. Still half-full. Whoever was here left in a hurry.
Bob picks it up. Looks at it.
BOB
to himself
Didn't even finish his brew. Some people.
He puts it down. Keeps moving.
Frame 44:
A stairwell. Going down. Into darkness. The rumble is louder here. The air shimmers with heat.
Bob looks down into it.
He starts descending.
Scene 10: The Elephant's Foot
Frame 45:
The basement. Dark except for an unearthly blue-white glow emanating from the end of a corridor.
Bob walks toward it. Slowly now. Even Bob is slowing down.
The Geiger counter is screaming. A relentless, furious clicking that fills the space.
Bob's skin is red now. He hasn't noticed. He's sweating. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
BOB
breathing harder
Warm down here innit.
Frame 46:
Bob rounds the final corner.
He sees it.
The Elephant's Foot. A mass of molten corium. Black and grey. Frozen mid-flow like lava caught in time. It bulges from the floor and wall like something organic. Something alive.
It glows. Faintly. Pulsing.
It is one of the most lethal objects on Earth.
Bob stares at it.
Beat.
BOB
That's not up to code.
Frame 47:
Bob setting down his toolbox. Opening it. The mundane ritual of a tradesman preparing to work. Hammer. Wrench. Spirit level.
He picks up the spirit level. Holds it against the wall near the Elephant's Foot.
He checks the bubble.
BOB
muttering
Well there's your problem. None of this is level.
Frame 48:
Bob reaching for the Polyfilla. Prising the lid off. The tub looks absurd here. Tiny. Domestic. A bathroom product in a nuclear hellscape.
He dips his trowel in.
He leans toward a crack in the wall near the corium mass. Blue light spilling through it.
He applies the Polyfilla.
It evaporates instantly. A tiny hiss. A wisp of steam. Gone.
Bob frowns.
Frame 49:
Bob applying more. It evaporates again. And again.
BOB
frustrated
Come on...
More. Hiss. Gone.
More. Hiss. Gone.
He checks the tub. Shakes it. Looks at the expiry date.
BOB
squinting
Best before... 1984... should still be...
He trails off. He's struggling to focus. His eyes aren't working properly. Everything is slightly blurred.
He doesn't know why.
We do.
Frame 50:
Close-up of Bob's hands. Holding the trowel. The skin is blistered now. Red and raw. He hasn't noticed. Or if he has he's filed it under "occupational hazard."
The trowel itself is discoloured. The metal is warping slightly.
Frame 51:
Bob stepping back. Looking at the Elephant's Foot. Really looking at it for the first time.
Something flickers across his face. Not fear. Not yet. Just... the first crack in the foundation of his confidence.
A micro-expression. Gone almost instantly.
BOB
quieter now
Right. Polyfilla's not going to cut it.
He looks at his toolbox.
BOB
Might need the WD-40.
Frame 52:
Bob spraying WD-40 at the base of the Elephant's Foot. The spray evaporates before it makes contact. A faint sizzle.
He sprays more. Same result.
He shakes the can. Sprays again. Nothing.
He stands there. WD-40 in one hand. Trowel in the other. Staring at something his entire worldview has no framework to process.
Frame 53:
Bob sits down on an overturned pipe. Slowly. Heavily. Like his body is making the decision for him.
He puts the WD-40 down.
He puts the trowel down.
For the first time in twenty years Bob the Builder has no tool in his hands.
He just sits.
The Elephant's Foot glows in front of him. Patient. Eternal. Indifferent.
Scene 11: The Unravelling
Frame 54:
Time has passed. How much is unclear. Bob is still sitting. But he's different now.
His skin is darker. Mottled. His high-vis jacket is stained with something. Sweat. Or something else. His hard hat is slightly askew.
His eyes are unfocused.
BOB
to himself, barely audible
The thing about... the thing about foundations is...
He trails off. Loses the thought. Starts again.
BOB
The thing about... yeah...
He can't finish the sentence.
Frame 55:
Bob looking at his hands. Turning them over slowly. The blisters have burst. The skin is peeling. He stares at them with a kind of detached curiosity. Like they belong to someone else.
BOB
quiet
...That's not right.
First time he's acknowledged something is wrong.
Frame 56:
Bob standing. Unsteady. Using the wall for support. He leaves a handprint on the concrete. Red. Wet.
He looks at the handprint.
He looks at his hand.
He looks at the Elephant's Foot.
Something is connecting. Slowly. Like a man trying to read a book in a language he almost knows.
Frame 57:
Bob reaches for his toolbox. Fumbles with it. His fingers aren't working properly. He knocks it over. Tools spill across the floor.
The hammer. The wrench. The spirit level. Rolling away from him.
He reaches for the spirit level. Can't grip it. It rolls further.
He's on his knees now.
Frame 58:
Close-up. Bob's face. The confidence is gone. Completely. What's left is something raw. Something human. A man very far from home realising something he doesn't have the words for.
His mouth opens. Closes.
BOB
hoarse whisper
...I can't fix this.
The first true thing Bob has said in twenty years.
Frame 59:
Bob on the floor now. On his side. Curled slightly. The Elephant's Foot looms above him. Massive. Alien.
His toolbox is scattered around him. The hammer near his head. The trowel by his feet. The spirit level just out of reach. The empty tub of Polyfilla on its side.
His hard hat has rolled off. His hair is thin. Falling out in patches.
He's looking at nothing.
Frame 60:
Close-up of Bob's face. On the ground. Cheek against the warm concrete. Eyes half-open.
His lips move.
BOB
barely audible, almost dreaming
...Can we fix it?
Silence.
No response.
No cheerful voices answering YES WE CAN.
Just the hum of the reactor. The clicking of the Geiger counter. The sound of a building that will be here long after Bob is gone.
Frame 61:
Wide shot. The basement. The Elephant's Foot centre frame. Massive. Glowing.
And next to it. Small. Broken. Still.
Bob.
His high-vis jacket the only colour in the frame. Bright yellow against the grey and black. Like a cartoon character pasted into a photograph.
He doesn't move.
The camera holds.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Frame 62:
Extreme close-up. Bob's hand. Open. Palm up. Lying on the concrete.
In it: a single washer. 35p.
It was in his pocket. It must have fallen out. Or he was holding it. We'll never know.
The camera holds on it.
A washer.
35p.
That's what it all comes down to.
Scene 12: Outside
Frame 63:
Exterior. The Chernobyl car park. Hours later. Or days. The sky is different. Darker.
The machines are still on the trailer. Exactly where Bob left them.
They haven't moved.
Scoop is facing the reactor building. Waiting.
Frame 64:
Muck. Close-up. Her big cartoon eyes fixed on the reactor entrance. Still smiling. That permanent painted smile. But the eyes aren't smiling. Can cartoon eyes look worried? These ones do.
No one responds.
MUCK
He's probably just... busy. Big job innit.
Frame 65:
Scoop. Still. His bucket resting on the ground. Not moving. He's always been the leader when Bob's away. The responsible one. The one who holds it together.
He's not holding it together.
SCOOP
quiet
Yeah. Big job.
Frame 66:
Lofty. His crane arm fully retracted. Pulled in tight. Like he's trying to make himself small. His eyes are darting.
LOFTY
I don't like it here Scoop. I want to go home. Can we go home?
SCOOP
When Bob comes back Lofty.
SCOOP
sharp
When Bob comes back.
Silence.
Frame 67:
Dizzy. She's stopped spinning. For the first time ever. She's completely still. Her mixer drum hangs motionless.
She doesn't speak.
Dizzy always speaks.
She doesn't speak.
Frame 68:
Roley. At the back of the trailer. Facing away from the reactor. The only one not looking at the building.
He's the oldest machine. The quietest. He's seen things. He knows things the others don't.
He already knows.
ROLEY
low, gravel, almost to himself
...Aye.
That's all he says.
It's enough.
Frame 69:
Wide shot. The trailer. Five machines. Primary colours against the grey Soviet landscape. Cartoon faces in a real nightmare.
A soldier approaches. Young. Exhausted. He looks at the machines. At their smiling faces. Something about them unnerves him.
He speaks in Russian. They don't understand.
He tries English. Broken.
SOLDIER
Your builder. The man. Bob.
The soldier looks at the reactor. At the smoke. At the sky.
He looks back at Scoop.
He doesn't know how to tell a machine its owner is dead.
He doesn't have to.
Frame 70:
Close-up. Scoop's face. The smile is still there. Painted on. Permanent. But something behind the eyes shifts. A light dimming. Not going out. Just... dimming.
He understands.
SCOOP
very quiet
...Right.
Beat.
Beat.
He doesn't say anything else.
Frame 71:
Muck. She hasn't understood. She's looking at Scoop. At Lofty. At the soldier. Back at the reactor.
MUCK
What? What's happening? Scoop? Is Bob coming? Scoop? Why won't anyone... Scoop?
No one answers her.
Scene 13: Muck
Frame 72:
Time jump. Days? Weeks? The car park is different now. Military vehicles gone. The area is cordoned off. Hazmat tape everywhere.
The trailer is still there. But the machines have been moved. Scoop, Dizzy, Lofty and Roley are on a flatbed truck. Being taken away. Decontamination. Disposal. Something.
Muck isn't with them.
Frame 73:
Muck. Alone. On the ground near the reactor building. She's been taken off the trailer but not loaded onto the truck.
Why?
Her treads. They're stuck. Fused to the ground. The heat and radiation have welded her to the earth. She can't move.
She doesn't know why she can't move.
Frame 74:
Lofty on the flatbed truck. Being driven away. His crane arm extended back toward Muck. Reaching. He can't reach.
LOFTY
calling out
MUCK! MUCK WE HAVE TO GO! MUCK!
Muck watches them leave.
MUCK
confused
I'm... I can't... my treads are...
The truck gets further away.
MUCK
louder
Wait! WAIT! I'm stuck! I just need a minute I'm just a bit...
Further.
MUCK
shouting
LOFTY! SCOOP! I'M STUCK! COME BACK! I JUST NEED—
The truck turns a corner.
Gone.
Frame 75:
Muck. Alone. The empty car park. The reactor behind her. Smoke still rising.
Silence.
Wind.
Frame 76:
Close-up. Muck's face. The painted smile. But the eyes. God the eyes. Confused. Lost. A child abandoned at a supermarket. Looking around for someone who isn't coming.
Wind.
MUCK
I've gone a bit wonky I think.
She tries to move. Her treads grind. Metal on concrete. She moves half an inch. Stops.
Frame 77:
Wider shot. Muck from behind. Small against the reactor. She's sinking. Slightly. The ground beneath her isn't solid anymore. Something is pulling her down. Slowly. Imperceptibly.
MUCK
to no one
I think I'd like to go home now.
Frame 78:
Time passing. The sky changes. Clouds move. The light shifts.
Muck is lower. An inch. Two. Her chassis is touching the ground now. The yellow paint is bubbling slightly. Discolouring.
Frame 79:
More time. The light is different again. Golden hour. Beautiful. The sky is stunning. Pinks and oranges. It would be gorgeous if it weren't for the smoking nuclear reactor and the dying cartoon digger.
Muck is half-submerged now. Her treads are gone. Sunk into the earth. Her body is warped. The paint is brown and black in patches.
Her eyes are still open.
Still looking.
Frame 80:
Close-up. Muck's face. Level with the ground now. One eye partially obscured by the earth rising around her. The paint on her smile is cracked. Peeling.
But she's still there. Still conscious. Still waiting.
MUCK
barely a whisper
...Bob?
Frame 81:
Night. Stars. The reactor is a black shape against the sky. Red warning lights blink slowly on the remaining structures.
Where Muck was: a shape in the ground. A mound. Yellow paint visible in patches. One eye. Half-open. The light behind it flickering.
Flickering.
Flickering.
Frame 82:
The eye stops flickering.
Still.
Frame 83:
Dawn. Soft light. Birds singing. The first birds to return to Pripyat.
A wide shot of the ground near the reactor. Concrete and debris and earth.
A patch of yellow. Almost buried. You'd miss it if you weren't looking.
A single cartoon eye. Closed now. Peaceful almost.
Grass is beginning to grow around it.
Scene 14: Silence
No sound.
No music.
Nothing.
Frame 85:
Askern. The same wide shot from the opening. Grey. Drizzle. Pebbledashed bungalows.
But something is different.
Bob's van isn't there.
It's just a village. Grey and quiet. Missing something it didn't know it needed.
Frame 86:
Doris's kitchen. The same angle as before. The floral wallpaper. The photos. The cat.
Doris is sitting at the table. Alone. A cup of tea in front of her. Untouched. Gone cold.
She's looking at the phone.
It doesn't ring.