Moonstone Rescue — Episode 1 (pilot)

Moon Stone Rescue Tabary, Moon Stone Rescue Moon Stone Rescue, Highlet, written by Dominique Mouton. Over black. I'll start where we left off. No, let's go back to the beginning. The beginning, but we're so close to the end. I know, but anything's making me sad. Fade in. Exterior Dirt Road Day. On the back of an uncovered horse-drawn wagon, a dozen indigenous children sit silently, broken. Super, California, 1896. Interior-exterior uncovered wagon day, moving. Henrietta, four, stares straight ahead with dried tears on her face and two long braids down her back. Your great-great-grandmother was only four years old when she was taken from her tribe, and given the name Henrietta. The government called it assimilation. As the wagon moves along, Henrietta notices an orange cat hiding behind some brush, and the cat notices her too. Exterior St. Rosalia Indian School Day. An imposing red brick building at the foothills of a valley surrounded by lush olive and oak trees. In front, uniformed indigenous kids march in formations. Emotionless, focused, obedient, they've been assimilated. A staff of nuns and teachers stand beside a sign that proudly reads, St. Rosalia Indian School. The wagon carrying the children approaches. A steely-faced nun, sister Bernadette, 30s, steps forward. Remember, be compassionate, but firm. God knows they'll need both. Once the wagon comes to a stop, the nuns spring into action to promptly usher out the new arrivals. Henrietta is lifted off the wagon bed. She frowns at the fleshy adult hand that grabs and pulls her. Without warning, Henrietta sinks her tiny teeth into the stranger's thumb hard. The owner of the thumb cries out. Interior classroom day. Young girls practice their sewing in silence. The sewing teacher writes at her desk, pre-teen Henrietta, now 12, fusses with sloppy needlework in the back corner. Her short-cropped hair is hopelessly untamed, unladylike and unassimilated. They did everything to make her forget who she was. She learned their language, manners, customs. Henrietta fumbles with her needle, accidentally pokes herself. A tiny pool of blood forms on the pricked finger. She closes her eyes. Inexplicably, she smears the blood across her forehead. But she never did fit in. Not that she really tried. A little girl sitting close by stares at Henrietta, clings to her rosary. Others take notice, frightened. Exterior St. Rosalia Indian School moments later. The sister Bernadette holds Henrietta by the neck over a bucket of water, vigorously scrubs her forehead with a cloth. No more witchery. Understand? Interior girls dormitory night. In bed, silent tears roll down Henrietta's red, raw face. Henrietta cried not for the pain she suffered, but for her parents whose faces she couldn't recall. The language she'd forgotten. She didn't even remember her name, her real name. Amid the darkness, a light appears. Henrietta sits up, startled. Hello? The light gets brighter, beckons her to follow. She gets out of bed, chases it. She didn't know what compelled her to follow that light. It seemed familiar, like an old friend. Exterior St. Rosalia Indian School night. Outside, Henrietta follows the light under a large oak tree. The light dims. For a moment, she stands in darkness. The light returns, an orange cat in its center. Henrietta and the cat make steady, unblinking eye contact. Though the cat's mouth did not move, she told Henrietta secrets. Secrets of her ancestors, of the old ways, and the future too. The cat agreed to be her guide, always. In the distance, the angry matron holds a lantern. She spots Henrietta under the oak tree. Henrietta! Henrietta whips around, eyes wide. More cat furry tails. Interior bedroom day, present day. Robert Rhodes, 30s, stands at the doorway with a tea tray. He's got a snarky, irreverent smirk on his face. But his bright, poppy-print veterinary scrubs betray his inner dork. I said, furry tails. You get it? In bed, a frail and tired Nora Rhodes, 30s. A hand-knitted cap covers her head. She manages to smile at her husband through her obvious fatigue. Yeah, yeah, I got it. Nora holds a leather sketchbook filled with handwritten notes and drawings. Snuggled close beside her and Robert's exuberant daughter, Maya Rhodes, 12, her wild, tightly coiled red hair flies all over the place. It's not a fairy tale, Dad. Nasty nuns, psychic cats. It's basically a Cinderella rip-off. As Robert walks over with the tray, he nearly trips. The culprit, Henri the cat. Black with big, yellow eyes, she stares up at Robert, innocent. Robert doesn't buy it. This cat is always in my way. Robert, my love, have you considered that Henri has been there for an hour and it is you who put yourself in her way? Excellent logic, Professor Rhodes. Robert sets the tray down, kisses her sweetly. How you feeling? Great. Yeah, Doctor said you might be... See with us, we're at the part where Grandma Henrietta escapes. Everyone claims Pocahontas is an ancestor. Why is that? Grandma Henri is way cooler than Pocahontas. But at least there's evidence she actually existed. Shut up, Grandpa. Get in here. My scrubs are dirty. Nora and Maya grab both his arms. He's no match. Fine, fine. He gets into the bed, Henri the cat jumps on his lap. I swear, I swear this cat hasn't in for me. Dad, she's not just a cat. She knows things. Things we can't even see. Like I said, free tails. Dad doesn't get it, does he? Nora winks at Maya. Henri's powers are their secret. Go what? She ignores the question, turns the page of her sketchbook. The angry nun grabbed Henrietta by the shoulders and shook her. Interior, Maya's room, day. Maya snoozes in bed. She's a bit older, but her room looks like it belongs to a younger kid. Stuffed animals, childish posters, old drawings. Nora's sketchbook on the nightstand. Super, two years later. Light from a nearby window wakes Maya. She stretches and rolls over. When she opens her eyes, two huge yellow eyes stare back at her. Oh my gosh! Startled, Maya falls to the floor. Henri the cat looks down at her from the edge of the bed. Henri, I love you, but you gotta stop doing that. Maya stands and picks up the cat, holds her close. Did you tell mom that I had graduated eighth grade tomorrow? Henri blinks, her face adorable but ambiguous. Interior, Rhodes home, staircase, day. Maya runs downstairs, fully dressed and Henri at her heels. Soul music blares from the kitchen. Kitchen, Maya's quirky grandma Jean Rhodes, 60s, carves a clay figurine of a voluptuous nude woman. Jean's hips move to the music. Her long locks swing down her back. The Eat In Kitchen doubles as her art studio. Intricate erotic sculptures sit on every flat surface. Maya enters, opens the fridge for a snack. Morning, Granny. Hey, baby, you're up early. Gotta tell mom about the graduation. Jean smiles, represses concern. Maya heads to the door. Making any stops? Like where? I don't know. Maybe wherever it is you've been going after school. I've been helping Jackie with her val- Sorry, I'm so sorry. Valid Victorian speech. Valid Victorian, okay. I've been helping Jackie with her val- That word. It is a hard word for me. I don't know why. I've been helping Jackie with her valedictorian speech. I told you. But maybe you got a boo-fang or something. A boo-fang? Ew. Maya picks up Henry, cringing and eager to leave and avoid further inquiries. Hey, can you remind dad about tomorrow so he doesn't forget? Why would he forget? He forgot my birthday. And Henry's. And yours. Oh, it's that clinic. I told him to hire help, but you know how he gets. The whole town knows how he gets. Jean stops sculpting to look Maya in the eye. You know he loves you, right? Sure he does. Love is a language. Everyone has their own funky way of speaking it. Then dad speaks love and pig Latin. Jean can't help but to grin in agreement with Maya. That's my son, but sometimes it's like that boy. He talks pure gibberish. Interior deli day. Robert stands in the line of a busy deli shop. He's in his own world rocking out to industrial hip-hop that blasts loudly from his headphones. He's less polished, less affable than we remember him. Certainly scruffier too. Robert ignores the glaring eyes of others around him as he lip-syncs the song's unintelligible lyrics. It's getting to the good part when the music stops. Pissed, he looks at his phone. Incoming call from hell. He rejects the call, restarts the music. Hell calls again. He rejects it again. The music resumes. Behind Robert, an irked customer taps his shoulder. You mind turning the music down? Robert fains confusion. What? The customer motions to their ears. Now Robert fains comprehension produces a phony smile. No, but thanks for the offer. Robert turns around where he's finally next in line. He takes off his headphones. What can I get ya? Hold on, let me look. Robert reads the menu, carefully considers his options. Annoyed customers in line roll their eyes, grumble and groan. Oh, shit. Interior Roads Vet Clinic Lobby Day. Clients and pets sit in the waiting area. They're growing impatient. Mrs. Silva, 70s, quintessential cat lady, approaches the front desk. Her crated feline Gemma in tow. At the desk sits overworked vet tech slash secretary slash crisis manager Zara, 25. She smiles, anticipates Mrs. Silva's complaints. I am so sorry Mrs. Silva, Dr. Roads should be here any minute. You said that 30 minutes ago. If you want, I can reschedule your appointment. Gemma can't afford to be rescheduled. What the hell? Oh my god. I'm sure Gemma will be fine. Does this look fine to you? She holds up the crate. The scrawny cat struggles to breathe. The front door opens. Robert enters mouth full and breakfast sandwich in hand. Clients glare as he walks past them. Zara stands up, follows Robert into his office. Robert's office. Robert quickly puts on a white coat over his scrubs. Zara represses frustration. I tried calling you. We had some clients leave. He hands her the remainder of his food. Can you put this in the fridge? Robert. Yeah. Zara wants to say something. She thinks better of it. Never mind. Interior Roads Vet Clinic exam room day. Robert stands across from Mrs. Silva with test results. Acute kidney failure. I wish I had better news, but she's beyond help at this point. But why? How? How could be a number of things. Pesticides, meds, certain plants, and how? He shrugs, oddly cold and impenetrable. He's definitely not the same Robert who once wore puppy print scrubs. It's not possible. Check again. You're welcome to get a second pinion elsewhere. The next vet is miles away. I don't have a car. Robert nods, looks at his watch. So what's next? Uh, Gemma's 16 years old with failing organs. There is no next. Mrs. Silva's eyes go wide as she comprehends. Euthanasia. That's your choice. But if it were me, I wouldn't let her suffer like this for another minute. Interior Rhodes Vet Clinic lobby day. Mrs. Silva returns to the lobby empty-handed and teary-eyed. Daryl Ingalls? Mr. Rhodes will see Misty now. Daryl Ingalls, 50s, stands up. A stiff old German shepherd Misty at his side. Daryl approaches Mrs. Silva. Gemma, she? It wasn't even nice about it. She walks out of the clinic. Robert enters the lobby. Daryl, you coming? Daryl looks down at his beloved Misty for a moment. Hell no. Excuse me? For the last two years, we've all been understanding and patient with you and your antics. But this is the last straw for me. You're not touching a hair on Misty's head. Um, lost. What's the issue? I sure wish someone would come along and put you out of business. Daryl and Misty storm out. Robert looks at Zara puzzled. Exterior McGregor Farm Day. Dengie, poorly maintained structures scattered across several acres of land. The property is redeemed by its old growth trees and pretty landscape. Exterior McGregor Farm Stable Day. Neglected, frustrated horses, nay in their stalls. Lupe McGregor, 30s, an Afro-Indigenous woman with long dark hair, struggles to remove a shoe from a sassy horse. She pulls and pries the shoe clenches with rusty clinch cutters, takes a rubber mallet to hit the clinch, bam, the cutters break. Dammit. Lupe tosses them to the side, pets the horse gently. We'll get these off of you soon. Exterior McGregor Farm Main House Day. Lupe approaches the front door of an old but charming country home, an absurdly cute fox runs up to her excited. This is Pumpkin. She picks him up. Pumpkin Whimpers. Oh, I know, I know. I'm hungry too. Interior McGregor Farm Main House Day. Inside, a dozen half-packed boxes sit around. It's hard to tell if someone's moving in or moving out. Kitchen. Pumpkin looks up at Lupe as she opens a cabinet, takes out a can of dog food. The last one. Lupe opens the fridge. It's bare. She looks at Pumpkin distressed. You think Postmates delivers out here? Yeah, I don't think so either. Exterior Cemetery Day. Maya leans against a gravestone. She wears binoculars around her neck as she reads her mother's sketchbook. Henry watches squirrels nearby. As the days went by, Henry had to grew more and more lonely. Until one day, the cat showed her how to escape the vile school. The cat stares up at a pretty bird in a tree. Maya scrambles to her feet, puts the binoculars to her eyes. It's a rose-bristed ghostbeak! Behind her, the gravestone reveals Nora Robes, beloved mother, wife, and watcher of birds. She's listening. Leaves crunch under clumsy footsteps. The bird flies away. Maya turns to see Maverick Grayson, 14, blond and large for his age. He's a gentle giant disguised as a baby frat boy. You shouldn't creep up on people like that, Maverick. What were you looking at? Just an extremely rare rose-bristed ghostbeak that I'll probably never see again. I don't see it. Maya can barely conceal irritation. Yeah, because it flew away. Oh. That is so funny. Listen, I came to apologize for the other day. It wasn't cool how Kyle and Doug locked you in the bathroom. They're insecure bullies. You know what they say. Birds of feather flock together. Maverick thinks about this for a moment. That's actually really deep. Why are you apologizing for your friends anyway? Because you deserve an apology. Maverick is earnest, bashful. He clearly has a thing for Maya. Unfortunately, she knows it. It's awkward. I have to go meet my friends now. In town? I'm meeting my dad there. We can walk together. It's perfect. Great! Don't go far, okay? You're a rowdy, summer-ready kid. Jackie Andrews, 14, waves to Maya. Jackie's witty with micro-braids and thick glasses. Standing on a chair across from her is the hyperactive animated Hugo Fuentes, 14. Maya beelines to their table. Maverick trails close behind. Your ice cream melted. Don't worry. It didn't go to waste. You're hyperactive and animated. A little more. Yeah, give me a burp I can hear all the way from here. I don't think I can burp on camera. Okay, I'll add that to the video. Your ice cream melted. Don't worry. It didn't go to waste. Jackie's eyes narrow at Maverick. What's he doing here? Um... This is Maverick. Maverick extends a friendly hand. Jackie and Hugo ignore it. Duh. Why is he here? You're Jackie and Hugo, right? He knows our names! I'm sure his buddies told him all about us. I'm not like those guys. Our parents are friends, but I'm realizing we don't have anything in common. And the older I get, the more I see that they aren't the kind of people I want to be around. Birds of a feather, right? He turns to wink at Maya. Can't tell if this vulnerability and self-awareness is an act, but I know he kind of like it. Maverick takes this as permission to sit down at the table. And, uh, who's fat? They all turn to look out the window. Exterior Street Day Across the street, Lupe nervously enters the butcher's shop, intercut between Foley's ice cream and across the street. You don't know about Tom McGregor's widow? I didn't even know he had a wife. Yeah. Her name is Lupe, and apparently she's the one who killed him. What? What? Not with her bare hands. With magic. She's a witch. You're lying. My mom went to school with her. She lived on the Wampa-No-Wog Reservation before trench-suring to Oak Bluffs High. Apparently, she used to carry potions in her backpack. Sell it. If someone got on her bad side, they, they, they throw a blood or something the next day. Cool. Interior McGregor home night, flashback. Lupe and Tom McGregor argue. Right after high school? Lupe married Tom. He treated her really bad. Everyone knew it. Tom grabs Lupe's wrist, hard and menacing. She used to come into town with bruises and stuff. Exterior Oak Bluffs Town Center Day, flashback. Lupe walks down the street, townspeople stare at her, whispering amongst themselves. Pretty soon, she stopped showing up in public at all. She pulls down her sleeve to conceal bruising on her arm. Exterior McGregor Farm Day, flashback. Tearful and furious, Lupe loads a pickup truck with her belongings. Tom runs out of the house, grabs her by the shoulders. She shoves him off. Tom suddenly grasps at his chest in pain, keels over. Lupe stares at him coldly and gets in the vehicle, drives off. She finally left him for good. Ann went back to the reservation. Interior Foley's Ice Cream Parlor Day, back to present. The kids hang on Jackie's words. For years, no one heard anything about Lupe McGregor. Tom was never the same, and now that he's dead, she's back to take over the farm. He left her everything. But why? Maybe he felt guilty. Sometimes people change after losing someone. Yeah, what could happen to your dad after your mom... Oops, he stops, realizes he's stepped into taboo territory. Your cat obviously likes her. They look out the window again to see Lupe petting Henry. Axl Grayson, late 30s, a bulky ex-UFC fighter stuffed into an expensive suit approaches Lupe in a familiar way. Maverick, how does your dad know Lupe? Dad's been trying to buy the McGregor Farm since forever. Why? Here he owns half the town. Lupe and Axl's conversation heats up. It's an argument. He gestures wildly. She gestures back before storming off. Must be Roydrage. I should go. See you guys at graduation, okay? Maverick stands up and scurries out the shop. I like him. It's his dad I'm worried about. Maya stares out the window, concern on her face. Interior Sports Bar Day. Robert chugs a beer at a mostly empty bar. Next to him is Josh Rollins, 30s, professor, mensch, Robert's only friend. Her name's Debbie. Do you hate her? She's in the math department, but no, I think she's quite nice. You must hate her. You're trying to set her up with me. You were quite the catch once. Just channel that guy. I'm undatable, Josh. By design. The guy's making old ladies' cries, taking up all your time? Yes, I heard about Mrs. Silva's cat. What about Mrs. Silva's cat? Everyone's talking about it on the My Neighbor app. Josh hands Robert his phone. He scrolls the message board. Rhodes Clinic used to be amazing. Now it seems Dr. Rhodes gets off on killing pets. Oak Bluffs citizens must boycott? Is a small town, Rob? Something like this could end your business. Sometimes animals have to be put down. I'm sorry, it happens every day. Maybe you could be nice about it? I'm efficient and I'm honest. I think that's pretty nice. Robert takes a deep swig of his beer as Josh face palms. What happened to that grief support group you joined? Sad sacks with sob stories. Thought that was the point. Look, I got problems, but these people have problems. That's depressing. Do you want me to... He puts fingers to his head like a gun, pulls the trigger. Dude, that's so wrong. Another beer? I gotta go. It's finals week. You're tenured now. Listen up. Josh puts a bill down on the bar counter, picks up his bag. It's 2pm and I'm an adult. Nora wouldn't like this guy you're pretending to be. Yeah, well, she's dead, so... As Josh leaves, Lupe enters. She's flustered from her encounter with Axel. She sits at the far end of the bar. Robert watches her, intrigued. The bartender walks over to take Lupe's order. Just water, please. Water. At a bar. Why not? It's a bar. Water is the fountain of life. Foundation. Water? A... Water is the foundation of life. But a stiff drink makes life tolerable. Because it dulls the senses, kills brain cells, numbs pain. All of the above. Lupe looks into his eyes, breeding him. You remind me of someone? Honey, I was thinking the same thing about you. Who do I remind you of? I can't put my finger on it. Too bad. Must be the alcohol. Eh, must be. So who am I? Paliachi. Paliachi, the sad clown? A smile that hides a broken heart. Robert is taken aback by Lupe's casual intensity. Uh, well, it took a depressing, yet oddly accurate turn. I'm Robert, by the way. I know. Lupe finishes her water and stands to go. What's your name? But Lupe is already out the door. People say I'm rude. Exterior country road day. The sun is just beginning to set. Maya walks along a tree- shrouded road, carries a bag of groceries. Henry the cat follows along. They arrive at a shabby, splinter driveway gate. A lopsided sign reads, McGregor Farm. Maya pushes the gate open, enters. Exterior McGregor Farm enclosures day. Lupe feeds various small animals as she holds a phone between her ear and shoulder. Mom, please stop worrying about me. Exterior Aquina Wampanoag Powwow Grounds day. Debra Winslow, 60s. Warm, humble, holds a phone to her ear as she oversees volunteers fumbling with picnic tables. Hey, most tables belong on the other side. The other side? They shrug, confused. Debra returns to the call. You sound stressed. How am I supposed to not worry? Intercut Lupe Debra. Lupe opens the crate door of an opossum family. The mama opossum has a bandage on her back leg, hisses at Lupe. No, you're stressed, and that's stressing me out. Of course I'm stressed. This year's been a pain. I could use your help now that I'm on the council. I think you can handle it. Lupe's eyes widen at the sight of a lethargic baby opossum. And I'm worried about you and that house, all those memories. Sorry, I have to go. Interior Lupe's exam room, day. Lupe brings the opossum into a makeshift exam room, places it on the bed. It's a humble space compared to Robert's sterile clinic, but she has everything she needs here. She examines the animal's eyes, mouth, it doesn't look good. Exterior McGregor farm, main house, day. Maya knocks on the front door, no answer. She knocks again, harder. The half-closed door creaks open, Henry runs in. Henry, get back here. Interior McGregor farm, main house, continuous. Maya walks into the house, Henry is nowhere to be found. Hello? She takes a step inside. Interior Lupe's exam room, day. Lupe searches through her cabinets, looks through various jars, canisters, and herbal remedies. The baby possum's breathing grows shallow. Interior Lupe's house living room, same. Maya is fascinated by Lupe's house, looks closely at the various Wampanoag tribal artifacts, ceremonial objects, garb, books, photographs. She picks up a brochure for the grief relief support group. What are you doing here? Maya whips around. Lupe stands behind her with the baby possum. The door was open. I got carrots and apples for the horses. Interior Lupe's kitchen, day. Lupe uses a mortar and pestle to grind herbs to a powder. The baby possum lies on the counter. Maya watches close by. Hold him. Maya hesitates, but Lupe smiles, reassuring. Maya picks up the possum with care. What's wrong with it? I don't know yet. It could be a flu, or he might be playing possum. That's the real thing. Sometimes possums get so afraid and overwhelmed, they just freeze. A trauma response. Exactly. Lupe looks at Maya, admires her knowledge. Everyone's saying they're a witch. Typical. Predictable. They call Grandma Henrietta a witch too. They tend to do that. It's easier to use scary labels than to try and understand things you don't understand. I met your dad today. Suddenly nervous, Maya sets the possum down on a towel. You haven't told him, have you? He's never around for me to tell. I've loved having your help around the farm these last few weeks. But it's important that he knows that you come here. That was part of our deal. This place is so magical. I don't want to ruin it. Dad, that hates magic. Oh, he's eyes. Lupe mixes the herbs with water, stirring gently. Tell him, or I'll have to. Maya nods but seems doubtful of her own resolve. Interior middle school auditorium night. Families pack the seats as the eighth grade sits on stage. Jackie stands at the podium halfway through her speech. As we turn the page on this next chapter, I'm reminded of what slick, totellutinous Starbucks in season four of Battlestar Galactica. Maya and Hugo sit together in their graduation gowns. They beam with pride at Jackie. Behind them, stifled gaffaws from bone-headed classmates Doug and Kyle 14. Why is she talking about Starbucks? Maya turns around, glares. You may feel like hell, but sometimes, loss is where you need to be. Just because you don't know your direction doesn't mean you don't have one. Thank you. Cheers from the crowd of parents as she returns to her seat. The school principal steps up to the podium. Please, let's give it up for our class valedictorium, Jackie Andrews. Maya and Hugo enthusiastically clap. Doug leans over to Hugo. How is your friend valedictorian, but you're in special ed? Maya elbows Doug in the chin, causing his teeth to chatter. Whoa, dude, she got you good. Your ass is grass weirdo. In the audience seats, Robert sits next to Jean. He is dozed off. His face twitches. His breath irregular. Interior hospital room day, dream. Nora is in bed, thin and sickly, tubes going out of her nose and mouth. The heart monitor beeps unusually loud. Robert approaches Nora slow. He touches her hand. Please, it hurts. Make it stop. Frightened, Robert pulls back, turns away and runs. Interior middle school auditorium day, back to reality. Jean shakes Robert's arm until he opens his eyes. Wake up. Maya's walking. On stage, the principal hands Maya her diploma. Dazed and still shaken from his dream, Robert joins in the applause. Interior reception room night. Parents and students mingle, pose for pictures, share laughs. Jean tries to take a photo of Maya and Robert. Smile, Robert, please. Robert's miserable expression morphs until he manages to pull his lips from his teeth, producing a grotesque, painful, fake smile. Forget it. I'm so proud of you. Me too. So is Mom. Henry told her all about it. And guess what? We saw Rose press the girl's beak at her grave. So what? It's a sign she's listening. Maya, your mom's dad. Yes, but not really. Honey, she's dead. But Dad, Mom always says she'll talk to us through the birds. No, Maya, grow up, Robert. A few bystanders turn to look. I'm going to the bathroom. He walks away, embarrassed and hurt. Maya represses the tears that fill her eyes. Jean embraces her. Interior school bathroom night. Robert splashes his face under a running faucet, washes away the shame. Axl exits one of the stalls, joins him at the row of sinks. Don't you just hate these things? That's for the kids, I guess. I keep meaning to bring my son's parrot to the clinic. Oh, yeah? Yeah, it pulls out its own feathers and squawks all day. I can't stand it. Sure, bring him by. I like the way you do business. Straight forward, no nonsense. Not everyone's cup of tea happens to be mine, though. Robert puts his hand under the dryer as hot air blows out. Axl doesn't wash his hands, stands close to Robert. It's going to be tough with that new competition, though. What do you mean? Tom McGregor's widow's opening a new clinic. All natural, holistic, yada yada. Hippie crump. The dryer finally stops. You know, before he died, Tom was going to sell that farm to me. Yeah, I heard about that. Also heard you were trying to rip him off. Rip him off? He'd have been lucky to get five figures for that dump. Yeah, can't beat the location, though, right? Isn't that why you want it? Axl smirks, ambiguous. Robert opens the door to leave. For the sake of your family, you might want to consider how deeply unpopular you are in this town. Axl pats Robert on the shoulder. Our interests might deline more than you think. I'll see you next week about that bird. He walks out of the bathroom ahead of Robert. Interior reception room night. Robert looks around for Maya and Jean. They're nowhere to be found. He stands in the middle of the room of people alone. Interior McGregor farm, main house, night. Lupe drinks tea on the sofa. Pumpkin is curled up in his bed close by. The baby possum sleeps next to her. The possum's muscles twitch. Lupe holds her breath. It twitches again. Its feet move furiously until finally it sits up, happy and alert. You're alive, baby. You're alive. Relieved, she pets the possum's little head. Interior McGregor farm enclosures night. Lupe gently places the baby possum in the crate with its mother and siblings, looks on as they're happily reunited. Exterior McGregor farm night. The gates of the farm squeak as they're pushed open and closed by the wind. Lupe approaches the gate with a bright lantern in one hand and a can of red paint in the other. Smiling, Lupe dips an old paintbrush into the paint, draws a thick line across the letters of the McGregor farm sign. Below it, she begins to paint new letters. Moonstone Rescue. Across the street, Axel sits in his black BMW, stares longingly at the farm, glares with disgust at Lupe who doesn't notice him. He takes a moment but seems to make up his mind about something, an expression of determination crossing his face before he drives off into the night. Interior Maya's room night. Maya sits up in bed, flips through the pages of Nora's sketchbook, but she's too distracted to pay attention. Footsteps in the hallway, followed by a knock at her door. Maya? Maya almost responds, but instead, she reaches over to her lamp and turns off the light. Interior Robert's office moments later. Exhausted, Robert collapses onto a futon with dingy, yellowed sheets and a thin blanket. His eyes are only closed for a moment before he hears soft, broken-hearted sobs from the next room. Maya. Robert sits up as if prepared to go to her, but he reaches for his headphones and puts them over his ears. Loud music drowns out the sounds of his daughters crying. Interior Maya's room, same. The moonlight illuminates the tears that streak down Maya's face as she lies in bed. A bright light fills the room. Maya stops crying and sits up. We can't see what she sees, but whatever it is, its brightness causes her to squint and put a hand up to her eyes. She continues to squint into the light until her eyes widen in amazement. Maya? Exterior Street night. Henry the cat prowls the moonlit streets, her movements quick and alert. The soft sound of... echoes in the quiet night. Mrs. Silva appears in her doorway, a silver dish in hand beckoning. Henry meows softly and approaches. Her curiosity peaked. Mrs. Silva places the dish on the ground. Henry eagerly laps up the cream inside. Good kitty. Good Gemma. She scoops Henry into her arms. Come on Gemma, let's get you warm inside. With a final glance around the silent street, Mrs. Silva retreats indoors, closing the door behind her. End of pilot. Excellent people. APPLAUSE 500 orders a month was manageable. 5,000 is madness. 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