EXT. MOUNTAIN RIDGE - DAWN
“Because you made me the lone survivor once. I couldn’t let you be it twice.”
Marcus sets him down, looks at the sunrise. For the first time in ten years, his hand is steady. lone survivor 2
He answers. Silence. Then a voice—gravel, age, but unmistakably Pashto.
Marcus carries Ahmad across the Pakistani border, both bleeding. Ahmad whispers in Pashto: “You came back. Why?” For the first time in ten years, his hand is steady
Black screen. The sound of breathing through a regulator. A muffled explosion. Then nothing.
Marcus stares at the moon. His hand trembles. Not from fear—from the ghost of trigger pull. The names echo in every creak of the swing: Then a voice—gravel, age, but unmistakably Pashto
EXT. TEXAS RANCH - NIGHT
They walk toward a waiting CIA helicopter. Marcus doesn’t look back.
