0:00 - 0:04

Blackness. Slow, laboured breathing extends into a death rattle.

V/O, female: ‘We lost the world.’

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0:05 - 0:09

Series of fixed-camera shots of cities destroyed and deserted. The images intersperse with close-ups of wounds and dead flesh.

V/O: 'To the dead.’

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0:10 - 0:13

An overgrown yard crowded with shambling, rotting corpses.

At the farthest corner of the lot, something hidden in the undergrowth snatches a zombie out of sight.

-

0:14 - 0:16

Young man (Y) runs through the charred remains of an art gallery. A mob of bloody dead run after him.

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0:17

Blackness. Sound of wet explosion.

- 

 0:18

Y has turned, is staring at a swamp of decaying blood, all that is left of his pursuers.

V/O: 'We’re all prey to something.’

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 0:19 - 0:21

Interior, a broken-down shack. Unkempt men and women surround Y. He says, 'They were taken!’

 A young woman says, 'By what?' 

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 0:23 - 0:28

Montage of zombies. Some shuffle, some run. They are all taken, yanked into shadows by something unseen.

 V/O: 'First they walked. Then they ran. Now it’s a new phase.’

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 0:29 - 0:33

Close-up, a dead man’s face. Camera pulls back. He is one of many zombies in a city square. They crawl towards the camera.

They do not crawl on their knees but on their toes, with their backs tilted, knuckles or fingertips or the palms of their hands on the ground. They move at odds with their own bodies, like humans raised by spiders.

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 0:34 - 0:35

Director card.

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 0:36

A dead hand slowly lowers a gavel.

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 0:37 - 0:39

A schoolroom. An elderly woman speaks to survivors. Hers is the voice of the V/O.

She says, 'Life adapts.’

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0:40 - 0:44

V/O: 'So does death.’

 Zombie alone on the flat roof of a tower. Looks down at humans on the street. Grabs its own solar plexus with both hands and tenses.

 Cut to humans below. Drop of blood hits one man’s shoulder. He looks up.

 The zombie flies overhead, descending, dripping, its arms outstretched. It is tugging its own ribcage and skin apart, taut, making them wings.

-

 0:45

A bat crawls across cement, wrongly quadruped on the points of its folded wings and its stubby feet.

 V/O: 'There are new ways to be.’

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 0:46 - 0:49

A man staggers in a book-lined library. A zombie clings to him with all its limbs, biting his chest. It stares at him. It is sutured to him, through both their flesh and clothes.

-

0:50 - 0:52

A cellar packed with fresh corpses is knee-deep in dark oil. A fat nozzle descends the stairs and gushes it, slowly filling the room and covering the motionless dead.

-

0:53 - 0:54

The hand continues to lower the hammer.

V/O: 'A different collective.’

-

0:55 - 1:00

A montage of crawling zombies. Some chase human survivors, some standing zombies. The crawlers tear their quarries apart.

 V/O: 'The walking dead and the walking living, we’re both problems.’

-

 1:01 - 1:04

A zombie crawls vertically up the wall of an elevator-shaft. Human survivors stand, oblivious, by the open door a floor above.

 V/O: ‘Problems to be taken care of.’

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 1:05 - 1:08

The dead hand touches the hammer to the wood at last. It makes a tiny click.

-

 1:09 - 1:14

Human survivors in an aircraft hangar, by a broken drone. There is growling. Dark smoke pours from the drone’s engine.

 Cut to a control room. A dead drone pilot watches on monitors, blasts the jet’s engines with one hand. Pull back: he has been stitched spreadeagled throughout the room, a flesh web.

-

 1:15 - 1:18

Y hefts heavy hydraulic spreaders. There are fragments of the dead around him. He whispers, ’They didn’t come back…’

- 

1:19 - 1:23

Night. A factory. Its windows are lit from within.

 V/O, Y’s voice: ’…it’s that we haven’t got there, yet.’

 -

1:24 - 1:27

Close-up of the face of the young woman. She is newly dead.

V/O, the old woman again: ‘Of course they’re angry. We’re eggs that don’t want to hatch.’

The corpse opens her eyes.

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1:28

Blackness.

V/O: 'We knew it was war…’

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1:29 - 1:33

A bridge over a river. Two zombies kiss so hard their faces distort as they shove into each other. Behind them rages a violent battle between crawling and standing dead.

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1:34 - 1:37

A ruined office. The clicking of a keyboard.

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1:38 - 1:41

A dark room. A group of long-dead corpses sit, quite still, around a table.

 At one seat is a living man, shivering with cold. He pushes a sheaf of papers forward, as if for consideration.

-

1:42 - 1:45

A rocky hillside. Hundreds of zombies crawl into the entrance of an old mine.

V/O, A: ’…We didn’t know it was civil war.’

-

1:46 - 1:49

Night. Zombies stand motionless by a wire fence. Beyond it are rough edgelands.

V/O, A: 'Between the second dead…’

-

1:50 - 1:55

Close-up of swaying flesh. Pan back to show a zombie sat on the back of another, that is on all fours. The shot pulls back to reveal hundreds of the crawling dead. A few are mounts for zombie riders.

The crawlers labour on hands and feet through scrub and trash, towards the town. We can see the wire, the standing zombies waiting.

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1:56 - 1:58

Blackness. Title card.

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1:59 - 2:04

Close-up, wooden floor. A decaying hand slaps down in the centre of shot. It lifts away and a foot replaces it, on collapsing toes, then hauls out of shot.

They leave a wet stain and crumbs of flesh behind.

V/O, new voice, guttural whisper: ’…And the Crawl.’

- - -