tom sails down into the basement and lands nimbly on the floor. doesn't even use the ladder anymore. the rock is gone, broken apart by the jackhammer, and the hole is now eight feet long and as many wide, and about four feet deep. tom leaps down into it and goes back to work.
in the basement, tom abruptly stops digging, staring at the dirt. the corner of something shiny is sticking out from the pile. he bends down and pulls it out.
tom's fingers twitch open and his hand pulls free of samantha's. he opens his eyes and gulps air. the color returns to his face as he pulls his hand away from hers. but as he does so, he stops, staring intently at something in her fingers. we don't see what it is. tom draws himself to his feet and climbs the ladder that leads upstairs. as he goes, we pause, looking between two rungs near the top of the ladder. in the darkened crawl space under the rest of the house -- -- a pair of eyes stare at us. it's kurt damon. he twists around quickly and scoots back out under the house, the way he came in.
frank is still sobbing, his back to tom. tom takes a step toward him, to comfort him.
frank still has the gun hanging at his side, tears streaming down his cheeks.