On the evening of an off-season practice, a freak blizzard traps a youth hockey team inside their local, rundown Ice rink. Cut off from the outside world and left under the supervision of his tyrannical father (and coach), high school captain Lance Wilson is forced to navigate a testosterone-fueled pressure cooker, fighting for control as his team spirals into claustrophobic self-destruction.
BENDERS
90-minute feature film
horror/black comedy
INT. LOCKER ROOM BATHROOM / RINK - NIGHT
He leans in close, staring himself down, then shakes his head and backs away. He's jumping around like a boxer, attempting some half-assed Taxi Driver impression.
He still hasn't washed his hands.
MRS. WILSON
(over voicemail)
I'm sorry. How are you? God, what a place to be trapped. It must smell like shit in there.
(beat)
Making you boys practice is ridiculous. With the terrible sleep you're getting.
INT. BLEACHERS
A furious coughing fit echos through the rink. LANCE, AIDAN, HUNTER, and CALEB are hanging around the bleachers, passing around the wax pen.
It's around 4:00 am.
As the camera begins a mad dash, figures quickly emerge from behind doors, walls, and trash cans. They're all wearing painted hockey masks or socks with crudely cut eye holes and carrying their weapons.
There are so many of them. Armed for war.
INT. LOCKER ROOM - INTERCUT
Close on AIDAN, still watching LANCE sleep. COACH's voice rings like a tea whistle in his head.
INT. THE RINK
From the perspective of the RAT, traveling through the halls of the rink. For a while, we're dead alone, moving through dimly lit corners and sniffing around scraps of food.
A THUD. Then the scraping of feet. We whip around.
We continue further through the rink. Another bag of chips, another dark corner.
A CRUNCH. Silence. We freeze.
