ENTER: GEORGIA DOLITTLE, a plain woman of middling height whose reddish hair has been tied back in a tight bun, stands outside a small but sturdy cabin. Her hands are drenched in blood. As the door opens, the shrill cry of a newborn baby echoes from indoors as MR COLTON, a bearded man, joins her on the veranda. His jaw is clenched beneath his facial hair, but he remains steadfastly courteous.
MR COLTON: Thank you, Ms Dolittle. My family is in your debt.
GEORGIA: Think nothing of it, Mr Colton.
MR COLTON: Is there anything that my congregation can do for you?
GEORGIA turns to stare out at the town. Dozens of cabins have been arranged in a roughly gridlike pattern, and rough-looking men patrol the streets (which aren't really streets, but rather rudimentary pathways pretending to be streets). Pale, unfriendly faces peek from windows. She turns back to MR COLTON, clocking the crucifix above his door.
GEORGIA: Well, if you have any ammunition to spare, I would be very grateful.
MR COLTON: Why, that goes without saying. We'd be more than happy to put you up in one of our spare cabins for the night. Food, of course, will be provided. Water, for bathing.
He hesitates.
MR COLTON: And, ah... your beasts...
GEORGIA: Whatever spare meat you have will do, Mr Colton. Bones are fine, too. Oh, and if I may -
She raises her bloodstained hands. MR COLTON does not flinch, but he nevertheless stills almost imperceptibly at the grisly sight.
GEORGIA: Some hot water to clean my hands in would be greatly appreciated. Thank you very much.
CUT TO: GEORGIA DOLITTLE, standing alone inside a cabin. As she scrubs the blood off her hands inside an ivory washbasin filled with hot water, we see that her sleeves are rolled up. She is wearing a thick, blue jacket over a camo-coloured tank top. Its hem reaches her knees. After she finishes scrubbing her hands clean, she crosses to the windows and closes them, then draws the curtains. After this, she enters the bathroom to turn on the tap. The table is not yet set. GEORGIA moves to the front door and opens it; her jacket swishes as she moves, with an audible clanking sound, as though there is a great deal of metal concealed within. There is a MAN standing outside; he jerks as she pokes her head out. The sun is setting.
GEORGIA: Sorry for that. Uh, I'm going to be taking a shower, so...
MAN: Understood. You won't be disturbed.
GEORGIA: Thank you. My apologies for the fuss.
GEORGIA retreats indoors and closes the door, then backs away into the bathroom before shutting that door as well. She unties her hair, shaking it as it falls down past her shoulders. As before, she closes the windows and draws the curtains in the bathroom. Then, with a practiced flick of her hand, she removes a sub-machine gun from her jacket, placing it within arm's reach of her bathtub. There follows several magazines loaded to the brim with ammunition, which she arranges meticulously on a nearby table. Once she is completely naked, GEORGIA sinks into the bathtub and sighs, steam rising all around her. The tension falls off her shoulders.
GEORGIA: Ah, heaven.
CUT TO: An enclosure on the outskirts of town. There are three animals held inside the enclosure. The first, a squat, strong chimpanzee named OSWALD, cocks his head. His unusually perceptive eyes are flecked with green. HECTOR, a vulture with a wingspan roughly the height of a teenage boy, struts atop the fence comprising the enclosure. There are two men guarding the enclosure; one of them is dozing off. HECTOR turns to look at OSWALD before they both swing around to look at VICTOR, GEORGIA's mount and an enormous wolf roughly the size of a car. There is a specially-constructed saddle atop VICTOR's immense, furry back, atop which a machine-gun has been mounted. VICTOR is currently curled up in a ball, sleeping.
CUT TO: GEORGIA, drying her hair. She is fully dressed, and her dirty undergarments are now stored securely inside her laundry bag. Her crossbody satchel, which contains various medical implements, has been packed as well. Twisting the door handle, she steps out onto the veranda, only to be confronted with a small group of townsfolk milling around with pitchforks and unlit torches. They are in the midst of what appears to be a heated discussion - riling one another up into a right froth. As she appears, they turn to her, surprised.
GEORGIA: Gentlemen. Are we going to have a problem?
She sounds weary. The tension builds as the men on the street look at one another, then at her. GEORGIA tenses imperceptibly, one hand on her hip, where she knows her sub-machine gun is stored, and abruptly breaks into a run.
CUT TO: The enclosure on the outskirts of town. As shouts start to echo, the two men look at one another, hesitating. Behind them, OSWALD pulls himself up and over the fence. This settlement was not prepared to house creatures like themselves. As he lands in front of the two men, his fists lash out, swift and violent, and knock their heads together in such a way as to render them both thoroughly concussed. The chimpanzee riffles through their pockets before producing a keyring. Nimbly, he begins to unlock the gate before jumping out of the way as VICTOR barrels through the fence, his thick fur preventing any splinters from digging into his flesh.
CUT TO: GEORGIA, running. Her breath comes in short bursts, and she doesn't dare to turn around. She can feel the townsfolk gaining on her. As she tilts her head up, a wolf howls in the distance. The sound echoes into the night, louder than it has any right to be, and is picked up by a dozen more wolves, joining their voices to the chorus. GEORGIA's neck prickles, and she pulls her sub-machine gun out of her skirt. As she trips, a hand closes on her bicep, holding her in place.
MAN: Got you, witch -
GEORGIA wheels around and squeezes off a few bullets into the night. The shock allows her to slip out of his grasp. As she sprints through the streets, an immense silhouette appears at the end of the road, then rushes straight towards her. GEORGIA darts to the side as VICTOR rushes past, his massive head high enough to look an average-sized man in the eye. OSWALD is standing atop VICTOR's back, one hand handling the reins even as the other grasps the saddle-mounted machine-gun. As VICTOR growls at the townsfolk, OSWALD unspools a makeshift ladder from atop his back, allowing GEORGIA to clamber onto the wolf. She's almost done mounting when a bullet whizzes by her ear.
MR COLTON: Ms Dolittle!
GEORGIA turns. MR COLTON lowers his rifle, a dozen armed townsfolk at his back. Swallowing, she clears her throat.
GEORGIA: Mr Colton! I've just gotten word that I'm needed in the north. I'm terribly sorry, but I think I'm going to have to leave early. Thank you for your hospitality?
MR COLTON: Why leave? You haven't even picked up your bullets yet.
There is the distinctive sound of firearms being cocked.
MR COLTON: As a matter of fact, I got some bullets for you right here.
GEORGIA: Mr Colton, I'm not sure what I've done to -
MR COLTON: You clearly don't think I'm a fit host. That's enough of an insult. We pride ourselves on being good hosts, Ms Dolittle. We really do.
GEORGIA: Mr Colton, you gave me your word that I'd be able to depart unmolested.
MR COLTON: And you gave me your word that you'd deliver me a strong and healthy child. Not a three-eyed abomination. In my desperation, I chose to pin my hopes on a woman who consorts with wild beasts. Aye, I have sinned. And I shall purchase forgiveness from the LORD with your life.
OSWALD lets loose a spine-chilling howl and points the machine-gun at his posse. Bullets spray from atop VICTOR's back as men leap to the side to avoid getting hit. GEORGIA seizes the opportunity to secure herself atop the wolf's back. Without staying to take in their reactions, VICTOR wheels around and begins to lope back where he came from. The settlement is so small that they are out in less than a minute.
GEORGIA: Where's Hector?
OSWALD: I killed a horse for him. I don't think they'll be able to pick him out from amongst the crowd of vultures that've descended upon the corpse.
His mental voice is smooth and, incongruously, carries a vague Cockney accent.
GEORGIA: Well, he'd better come along quickly. It would be a terrible waste to lose him after all this while.
They clear the outskirts of the settlement, the sound of shouting rapidly decreasing in volume, and disappear into the night.