107702 Source Code by Ben RipleyDarkness. A SOUND slowly builds: the rhythmic rocking of a TRAIN’S WHEELS over RAILROAD TRACKS... INT. HIGH SPEED TRAIN - MORNING COLTER jolts awake. Sunlight hits his face. He blinks. A stunned beat. He's disoriented. Slowly he turna his head to one side... PASSENGERS. Filling most of the seats. Office workers on their morning commute into a city. Torning the other way, he’s confronted with a window. trees flash by, splitting the rising sunlight into a hypnotic strobe pattern. Celter looks to be thirty years old. A military buzz cut. A disciplined physique, lean and spare, almost gaunt. skin burnished by years of desert sandstorms and equatorial sun. His expression, prematurely aged by combat, is perpetually wary, Sometimes predatory, accustomed to trouble. Despite his military bearing, Colter wears a button down shirt and navy sports coat. On his wrist is a digital watch. Tt reads 7:40 a.m. He swallows. A strange, creeping panic. He_has no idea where he is. EXT. NEW JERSEY COUNTRYSIDE - MORNING The train hurls straight at us. NEW ANGLE -- Skimming alongside as the train twists and turns, sucking up track -- feet, yards, miles of it. Beneath it, the curving rails, which the rushing train barely seems to touch. They vibrate’with an eerie, dulcimer HUM.INT. TRAIN - MORNING Colter hasn’t moved. By his side he sees a canvas MESSENGER BAG. Is that his? Tentatively, he lifts the edge of the bag to look inside. A red APPLE rolls against two LIBRARY BOOKS. The bag’s leather NAME TAG reads: “SHAN FENTRESS." It's not coming back to him. This whole experience is starting to freak him out. He catches the scent of something. A passenger walks by with a STEAMING CUP OF COFFEE. CHK-TEOCK! Two rows back, an OVERWEIGHT MAN opens a can of soda. Sitting opposite Colter, facing him, is a WOMAN in her late twenties (CHRISTINA). In contrast to the corporate suits around her, her appearance is thrift store funky: black nail polish, dark lipstick, black hair with blue streaks, a button- down blouse edged in black funeral lace with silver skull-and- bones cufflinks. She's busy writing in a journal. COLTER Ma‘ am? Nothing. COLTER Excuse me... ma’am? She lcoks up. Blank stare. COLTER What is this? CHRISTINA What's what? COLTER Where am I? CHRISTINA (looks out the window) Almost at Newark. Goes back to her journal. COLTER What's Newark? A city?