EXT. RILKE FARMSTEAD – NIGHT

MAXIMILLIAN RILKE holds his breath. His brother GREGOR RILKE stands at his side, listening. They stare into the darkness beyond the doorwar and hear night sounds. MAXIMILLIAN is loosly gripping a shotgun by the base of its barrel, the stock resting on his hip.

MAXIMILLIAN

It’s nothing. We should...

GREGOR

Hush. Listen again.

MAXIMILLIAN shifts his feet in the snow, getting cold. Being a good brother, he closes his eyes and listens. His eyes pop open at a sharp sound from nearby, like paper being torn from a book. He licks his lips and slowly unhinges the shotgun barrell, exposing the chamber. Reaching into his coat pocket for shells, he feels his brother’s hand on his arm.

GREGOR

Too late for that.

GREGOR nods into the darkness. MAXIMILLIAN squints his eyes and sees a splash of light on the old Model-T next to the barn. It grows, and with it a look of dread darkens MAXIMILLIAN’s face.