Reading script (converted)


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            FADE IN:


            A country road through a Moor-ish, hazy prairie in the wee
            hours of the morning. In the mid-distance, a beaten '57
            Chevy convertible crests a slight rise and heads towards us,
            throwing dust in it's wake. Dead silence; Hold credits.

            INT. THE CAR

            A male driver is asleep at the wheel. This is EDGAR TUTTLE.
            We watch him doze for a few seconds, hearing music on the
            radio. Finally he sniffs, coughs, and comes fully awake. He
            realizes he is not where he fell asleep and proceeds to
            scream his fool head off. 

            In the distance, spanning the horizon, we see a thick and
            rolling wall of smoky cloud. It looks like an enormous

            TUTTLE yells hysterically, franticly slamming his shoulder
            into the door that will not open, eyes wide as dinner plates,
            staring out through the windshield. He surrenders to an all
            out banshee wail of panic.

            The first mists surround us. The road and the prairie are
            starting to fade away.

            TUTTLE in frozen, dubious fear. Eyes darting around. No sound
            but TUTTLE'S raspy breathing. Clouds encompass the Chevy
            completely. Vaguely, a song begins playing, a bit tinny, over
            the radio. Only gradually do the clouds begin to dissipate,
            as does TUTTLE'S anxiety level. 

            Daylight is back once again. But then...

            Music stops in mid-beat, as does everything else. At once,
            all air seems to go out of the scene. All motion has ground
            inexplicably to a halt.

            EXT. THE CAR

            TUTTLE's Chevy is parked over an open chasm, suspended by
            nothing but air. 

            TUTTLE stares down into it with the appropriate look on his

            The whole car begins to tilt, nosing head first into the
            ravine. TUTTLE begins to flail, trying to brace himself
            against anything available, screaming.

            The car hangs in dead air. TUTTLE is staring helplessly at
            what he is about to fall into. As, abruptly...

            Music returns, bombastic. The car falls away, dropped from
            invisible hands.


            A Film by Daniel Ray Nelson

            CREDITS ROLL

            EXT. THE GORGE

            We follow the descent of the car into the ravine, until it's
            path suddenly evens out and cruises, in the air, on a
            horizontal course. We follow it through a few twists and
            turns through a pass in the ravine.

                                                                CUT OUT:

                                HESSON V.O.
                          (after the music: on black)
                      Maybe we should lose the music. He's not
                      looking so hot...

                                                                BACK IN:

            EXT. THE GORGE

            The car is now sitting in a forest clearing, setting on firm
            ground once again. Again, music starts up, ominous and

            INT. THE CAR

            TUTTLE opens up one eye and then the other, slowly looks
            around, finally focusing on where he has found himself.

            EXT. CLEARING

            A mansion sits in the near-distance, covered in trestles
            and ivy.

            INT. THE CAR

            TUTTLE sits in awe, staring at it, mouth hanging open.

            EXT. CLEARING

            TUTTLE gets out of the car, looking around, closing the
            door softly.

                                MCGREGOR VO
                      Lose the music now. His pulse is too damn

            As TUTTLE starts toward the house, the music fades and is
            replaced by a soft buzzing sound. He approaches the steps
            leading up to the vast front porch.

            INT. HOUSE FOYER--DAY

            TUTTLE cautiously enters an elegant foyer. 

            An open parlor lies beyond, ending with a huge, wide glass
            window overlooking the expansive back lawn outside. In the
            mid-distance, there is a huge marble fountain. Just past the
            fountain is the treeline of an orchard. 

            TUTTLE goes to the window and stares out at all the beauty, a
            slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Convinced no
            danger could live out there, he eventually turns away and
            starts off, presumably to explore elsewhere.

            Staring at his back, we watch him go for a second. Abruptly
            then, out of nowhere, a sound begins to arise, like the
            howling of an Indian war party coming to attack. It stops him
            in mid-stride and he freezes, once again. Waiting a beat, he
            finally turns back to face us, and the window...

            EXT. BACK YARD

            From the POV of whatever is approaching, we are flying toward
            the back of the house and the window in a fast, zigzagging
            zoom. The wailing noise of this approaching mystery is now a

            INT. THE HOUSE

            We see fear dawning renewed in TUTTLE'S eyes...

            EXT. BACK YARD

            We remain the POV of the thing (or things) that approach the
            house, nearing the fountain, vaulting over it effortlessly,
            landing on the other side, continuing.

            INT. THE HOUSE

            TUTTLE'S eyes again, then the turning away of them as he
            makes a break for the door, screaming, screaming, screaming.
            He reaches the door and tugs on the knob, only to find it
            will not open. Terrified, he looks over his shoulder.

            Dead silence--not even the wailing now. Focus on the eyes.

            EXT. BACK YARD

            The stampeding sound. The wailing. Our POV. One last leap
            into the air, coming straight at the windows, about to
            connect with glass...


            TUTTLE'S POV: Before his very eyes an entire slew of
            unidentifiable shapes, weird demon beasts of some kind, are
            leaping through the massive glass windows in all of their
            destructive glory.

            Something beyond fear moves our boy TUTTLE to turn once more
            for the door, tugging away at the knob like crazy. Finally,
            it opens...

            EXT. CLEARING

            TUTTLE's OTS: We come up behind him to see the front yard,
            except that the front yard is gone, replaced by that terrible
            chasm once again. The car, the clearing, the porch--they're
            all gone.

            We watch TUTTLE teetering on the brink, flailing his arms. We
            hear the wail of the beasts again, and then...

            INT. LABORATORY

            TUTTLE, eyes open and rolling up in their sockets. Mouth wide
            open and belting out plaintive cries.

            DR. MCGREGOR and DR.HESSON come into view above him,
            concerned looks on their faces as they examine him.

                      HE's going into shock. GET HIM UP!

            TUTTLE is jostled as they haul him up, trying to get him off
            an examination table and onto his feet.

                      I'd say ten seconds to bring him out
                      before cardiac arrest.

            HESSON and MCGREGOR holding up TUTTLE between them, TUTTLE
            visibly shaking. MCGREGOR is slapping him on the cheek while
            HESSON struggles to hold up most of the weight.

                      COME ON, EDGAR! I'm here to take you back
                      now. Come on, dear boy!

            INT. HOUSE FOYER

            Now, MCGREGOR is kneeling beside TUTTLE in the doorway of the
            house, slapping TUTTLE on the cheek and saying:

                      You're safe with me, Edgar. No one can
                      touch you while I'm here.

            Lingering on TUTTLE'S eyes, clamped shut, paralyzed...

            INT. LABORATORY

            ...but now they open. Slow CU on the eyes.

            All three of them are standing in the lab. TUTTLE hangs
            limply between the two SCIENTISTS.

                      He's back, thank God! Get him back on the

            TUTTLE is slid back onto the examination table, his eyes open
            but dazed. First, he looks to HESSON, then to MCGREGOR.

                          (rasping breathlessly)
                      What the hell was that...?

            Heads and shoulders of HESSON and MCGREGOR, looking down at
            him, relieved but drained. MCGREGOR looks from TUTTLE to
            HESSON, then back to TUTTLE.

                      It's so good to have you back, Edgar.

            Gradually, MCGREGOR's expression relaxes into heartfelt
            congratulations. He looks again to HESSON, who is beaming,
            then back down.

                      You're going to be a free man now.


                                               ON BLACK:THREE YEARS LATER


            We follow HESSON moving swiftly down a sterile, drab-looking
            corridor lined with doors, stopping eventually outside of one
            of the doors on the left. He brings a key-ring out of his lab
            coat and inserts it to the keyhole.

            INT. LYNCH'S ROOM--DAY

            On the other side of the door, we see LYNCH stretched out on
            a sofa in a mock-living room setting. He is wearing an orange
            prison jumpsuit with his number stenciled on the back. Music
            is piped in, playing loudly. LYNCH is relaxing, head back,
            eyes closed, hands laced behind his neck. He doesn't know
            enough to be scared, yet. HESSON approaches him, obviously

            Zero in on LYNCH, eyes coming open and regarding Hesson with
            no anxiety of his own at first, but this soon turns to
            curiousity as he realizes Hesson is scared of something.


            We follow an AIDE as he makes his way down the same hallway,
            only a few minutes later. Eventually, he stops outside
            another door. Zeroing in, we can read GINA's name emblazoned
            on a placard as the door swings open under the jangle of a
            key in the lock.

            INT. GINA'S ROOM

            CU on the guy's frozen reaction. He is too stunned to
            actually hold any reaction at all.

            The room is similar to LYNCH's--intended to encourage comfort
            in hostile settings...Except that there is no one here. At a
            quick sweep, it is obvious that it's occupant has vacated.


            The AIDE runs out of the room into the hallway, going
            directly to a phone mounted on the wall. He opens the panel
            covering it and grabs it off the hook, almost feverishly,
            putting it to his ear.


            Cue music. An empty hallway intersection, alarm lights
            lying dormant along the wall close to the ceiling. Not one
            beat after they begin to go off, flashing and rotating blue,
            HESSON, GINA, JIMMY, ANGUS, and LYNCH come hauling ass around
            the corner almost in unison. So begins the escape.


            Fast focus on his instinctual reaction to the sound of the
            alarms; the noise is raucous, madly overbearing. That sound
            is not supposed to happen unless everything has failed.

            MCGREGOR stares at a bank of close-circuit monitors, watching
            as his subjects climb the fence.



            We are racing after them at a desperate speed, blue lights
            turning in the walls above us, sirens screaming. We turn
            corners, run through doors, into new hallways. The place is a


            HESSON reaches the fire exit door first, shoving it open onto
            a grassy, hilly expanse. Mountains are in the distance. One
            by one, three of the four file out and keep running away from
            us without looking back.

            Bringing up the rear is ANGUS, who HESSON grabs by the arm
            and stops, dead in his tracks. Quickly, he draws ANGUS'
            attention to him, looking into his panicked eyes.

                      Robert! Listen to me...Can you hear me,

            ANGUS' expression shows a hint of deepened focus, a more
            determined glare.

                      Just hide, Robert. You are in charge now!

            ANGUS breaks away and runs after the others, the four of them
            now swiftly moving orange-clad figures taking off up a low,
            rolling hill. Surrounding this open, grassy area are the
            majestic Rocky Mountains. We watch them go until HESSON,
            standing in the doorway, closes the door and cuts off our

            For another two seconds, we watch him, willing his agitation
            forcibly back under the surface.

            EXT. THE YARD--SUNDOWN

            The four continue, more or less in tandem, for their very
            lives. One by one, they each reach a fence marking the
            perimeter of Capricorn, and take to it like birds to the air,
            fast and desperate. One by one, they scale and drop to the
            other side, near the treeline, and are gone.

                                                            DISSOLVE TO:


            Humid, hazy shimmering countryside, secluded county road,
            unpaved. A jeep Cherokee comes hauling ass over a hill in the

            INT. JEEP--DAY

            GRAHAM FOSTER, a young urban professional in the making, is
            the mad driver. 
            A bulky nylon case on the seat beside him, a briefcase on the
            floor. FOSTER's hand, slightly fumbling, shaking, pulls at
            the briefcase, laying it on top of the other already on the
            seat. He opens it, revealing scattered cassette tapes inside,
            a small tape recorder, notebooks, books on Walter F.
            Pan up to the dashboard, where a cell phone is mounted.
            Foster takes this off it's cradle, punches numbers in with
            one hand. He is in a state of barely-contained frenzy. Almost
            giddy with a combination of elation and anxiety, like a child
            who can't wait to share a secret.
            Phone buzz-ringing in the background, his hand begins to sift
            through the tapes.He chooses two or three via sideways
            glance, pulls them out, and swipes the briefcase back to the

                      Washington Post. How may I direct your

                      Graham Foster, Gene. I need you to put me
                      through to Sydney. He's expecting me.

                      I can get you his receptionist, Graham.


            More ringing. Back to the seat, Foster unzips the nylon bag
            and lifts the flap. Inside is a bulky tape recorder. His hand
            opens the deck, slips in a tape after a brief glance, and
            hits 'rewind'.

                                V.O. (FEMALE)
                      Office of Sydney Rothstein.

                      This is Graham Foster. I have the story
                      regarding Walter McGregor. He's expecting

                      One minute, Graham.


            SYDNEY ROTHSTEIN, the Editor-in-Chief of the Washington Post,
            sits at the head of a conference table lined with executives
            in shirt-sleeves. The speaker phone in the center of the
            table rings and one of the exec's lean forward to push the

                                RECEPTIONIST (V.O.)
                      Sorry to bother you, Sid. Graham Foster
                      is calling in.

                          (coming back from his reclined
                      Put him through. (To the ceaseless
                      banter) Hold it down, guys! Please!

            INT. JEEP--DAY

                      Sid, I think you may want to clear the
                      room for this.


            Expression of thoughtful concern from SID. Raising his

            We see the table length-wise, and it's battalion of exec's,
            all eyes on SID.

            SID nods finally and they get up in unison, flooding out of
            the room with a shuffling of seats and papers. In a
            reasonable beat, the room is empty.

                      You got the floor, Graham. What's up with

            INT. JEEP--DAY

                          (taking a deep breath)
                      Alright, here goes. As we speak, he's
                      preparing to leave the country. In fact,
                      he should be officially on the lam by the
                      time I make it back to Washington.
                      Apparently, he was working on some kind
                      of research for the government and it's
                      just blown up in his face somehow. He
                      didn't go into it; I have no idea why or
                      how. Whatever it was, he's set to duck
                      out before the bullets fly.
                      Now, I do know the project had to do with
                      some kind of an experimental drug that
                      opens the memory to scrutiny. I know
                      that's vague but he went off on a million
                      jargon-filled tangents, so I'm going to
                      play some of the tapes for you and see if
                      you can follow it.

            Foster's hand messes with the buttons and pushes 'play', as
            he says: 

                      Here it is.

            (As he pushes 'play', go to:


            Slowly, we pan along the book-lined walls of MCGREGOR's
            study. As we go, the dialogue is spoken in V.O. As we reach
            the far end of the room, the voices getting louder as we near
            the interview-in-progress that Foster is currently leaving in
            the previous scene, we should notice that the books in the
            bookcases diminish. Somewhere in the shot, show them in boxes
            stacked for shipping. We should get the impression a move is
            in progress.

                                V.O. FOSTER
                      ...evidence currently in the possession
                      of the Federal Bureau of Investigation,
                      and that you anticipate a formal
                      accusation, made officially by the
                      Attorney General, pertaining to the
                      utilization of an untested drug on
                      unsuspecting recipients. Is that correct?

                                V.O. MCGREGOR

                                V.O. FOSTER
                      And what shall I say is your formal

                                V.O. MCGREGOR
                      Just as every lie their accusation will
                      be true in context, Mister Foster. First
                      they will have to say that the drug is
                      solely my creation. That is true.
                      However, what they may or may not mention
                      is that the recipients were supplied to
                      me directly by the Federal Bureau of
                      Prisons. Probably, if not definitely, by
                      the FBI. They will say I was working
                      under my own cognizance, yet not one
                      experiment was undertaken by me, or any
                      of my staff, without the previous
                      knowledge and approval of the appropriate
                      persons in full. At least, I was lead to
                      believe the appropriate persons were
                      being made aware.

                                VO FOSTER
                      And who were these people doctor?

                                V.O. MCGREGOR
                      Well, the only contact that I was allowed
                      access to was Senator Ribaldi, of
                      Virginia. If any major problems did arise
                      it was he who found out second. I would
                      say he visited our Capricorn facilities
                      in Colorado, oh, I'd say at least fifteen
                      times. That's fifteen times in the course
                      of five years. Obviously there were
                      others involved, but I assure you my
                      staff and I were confined strictly to a
                      position affording nothing more than the
                      necessary information absolutely required
                      to operate. This was an operation of
                      considerably high secrecy, Mister Foster.
                      Matters of clearance were handled always
                      with the utmost delicacy and I can
                      appreciate that. Which is why you must
                      stress that it is not my intention to
                      directly implicate any single participant
                      in this experiment even now. Including

            INT. JEEP--DAY

                      Blah, blah, blah.

            He presses the fast forward button.


                      I called you here to discuss the drug
                      itself; it's relevance, it's intended
                      purpose. As of this moment those in
                      control still maintain a chance to avoid
                      a mistake similar to the ones they always
                      make. What I am doing here is forcing
                      them to confront the facts of what has
                      taken place, to act in a truthful manner,
                      and henceforth avoid any deception of the
                      American public.

                      But how are they deceiving the American
                      public, Doctor?

                      By implicating me as the lone gunman.


                      But what are the effects of this drug
                      that's 'solely his own creation'?

            INT. JEEP--DAY

            FOSTER's finger jabbing 'rewind', then 'play'.


                      Consider any work of fiction you've ever
                      read, Mister Foster. At the center of
                      every great story are one or two
                      characters driving the plot, representing
                      the significance of the story to us.
                      Surrounding them will be others, who
                      operate in a supportive capacity-
                      necessary, though never as pronounced as
                      the one or two main characters. From them
                      flows a ripple effect, carrying along any
                      number of bit players. These are usually
                      common, unchanging properties. Static
                      characters, or stereotypes.
                      	In this case, Mister Foster, the Theatre
                      is the Human Psyche. The stage, on which
                      everything takes place, is the
                      Subconscious. But the Truth (leans
                      forward) is the Spotlight. At certain
                      moments during the process it has the
                      power and ability to cut through, to find
                      access to the subject's hopes, his
                      desires, his dreams, his fears, his
                      childhood traumas. The drug's properties
                      were designed to pass over the common
                      similarities in the human condition, to
                      illuminate only the most crucial player,
                      or players. Those facets of the human
                      character that make it individual. It is
                      these that are solidified in the
                      forefront for us to examine. 
                      	Consider fully before you bring this to
                      the rest of the world, the potential of
                      this experiment, and where it might have
                      taken us; at the very least, you might
                      say, it might have brought us to a better
                      understanding. The Truth was the possible
                      means to a journey that would have given
                      us our first visual examination of the
                      human soul...


                      I see, still crazy after all these years.
                          (general chuckling from the
                           other department heads sitting
                           at the table)

            INT. JEEP--DAY

                      I think he might have actually pulled it
                      off this time.

            FOSTER hits play.


                      Doctor, I don't mean to oversimplify, but
                      are you saying you bottled some kind of
                      gateway to the human soul?
            Fast forward. Play.

                      The true nature of what you are seeing
                      has more than likely been disguised. The
                      images your mind may provide you are more
                      than likely the symbols of something
                      else. A certain belief that happens to be
                      the basis of current psychoanalysis, Mr.
                      Foster. The reasons that instigate our
                      behavior often remain confined and
                      largely unknown to us, surfacing only
                      from time to time in a fashion that our
                      conscious minds can withstand, distinct
                      from whatever it was that made the truth
                      too disturbing for us to face in it's
                      actual form. It is the censor that
                      decides how you will see such things in
                      your dreams, Mr. Foster. It is this
                      guard, or checkpoint, that decides
                      whether the images entering your
                      conscious mind will do so in their true
                      forms or whether they require a disguise,
                      shall we say. My goal, and the function
                      of the Truth, was to over-ride the power
                      of this censor in a controlled

                      For how long?

                          (sitting back)
                      The restitution of inner
                      long as the subject required. To save
                      himself, if you will. 

                      What exactly do they want to put him on
                      the rack for?

                      Something went horribly wrong,
                      apparently. Now he's thinking the people
                      who were in charge are going to drop it
                      on him. The drug was his baby. Very few
                      others were involved as closely as he
                      was. Directly, he named Senator Ribaldi,
                      the one from Virginia. That's who I'm
                      hitting next. He would not name anyone on
                      his personal staff.


                      Where does it go from here, Graham?

            INT. JEEP--DAY

                      Wait, there's better.

            Rewind. Play.


                      --Foster, with the Federal government
                      behind me I had every sanction approved
                      with little more than a phone call.
                      Without them I would never have had
                      access to subjects. They agreed to supply
                      me with two individuals within the week,
                      chosen by myself, after interviews
                      conducted by myself--

            INT. JEEP--DAY

                      Right there! The FBP allowed him the use
                      of seven live federal prisoners.

                      He said two.

                      No, he's only admitting what happened to
                      the first two.

            FOSTER ejects the tape, fishes another one out of the
            briefcase, plugs it in, presses play.

                      Yes, the two who died because the levels
                      in their inoculations were too high...

            Stop. He ejects the tape, flips it, re-inserts, and presses


                      By the time I realized what somatic
                      results were about to occur the man was
                      in the process of extreme cardiac arrest.
                      There was nothing, at that point, that I
                      could do.

                      Are you telling me that only two separate
                      experiments were conducted?





                      Seven. Seven experiments altogether.

                      So what happened to the other five?

                      The other five I cannot, will not,
                      discuss under any circumstances.

            INT. JEEP--DAY


                      And he absolutely wouldn't either. No
                      matter how much I begged. I think it's
                      fairly safe to say that somewhere,
                      something got seriously fucked up in
                      this. McGregor seems to believe that
                      everyone's about to take for the hills
                      and he's letting the cat out of the bag
                      first to protect himself. What it sounds
                      like is that, whatever it is, it isn't
                      going to stay quiet very much longer

                      Graham. How old are you?

                      He asked specifically for me.

                      Yes, and you'll do his story. But it's
                      going to go a lot farther than McGregor
                      very quickly. This is Cronkite country,

                      I'm coming back home to get the wheels
                      turning on this. Leave me on it, Roth. I
                      can't screw this up.


                      How old did you say you were, Graham?

                                FOSTER (VO)

            ROTH's eyes close, as in 'oh, shit.'

            INT. JEEP--DAY

                      Did he tell you why he asked for you?

                      He said, and I quote, 'I want someone
                      trying to make a name for themselves who
                      doesn't already have one. Someone who can
                      make it their life's focus, at least
                      until the Truth comes out.


                      All that brain, and he's a comedian.

            INT. JEEP--DAY

                          (cont. in VO)
                      Alright. We're going to have to talk more
                      about this when you get back. 


                          (He has stood, and is walking
                           around the table toward the
                           phone in the center of it.)
                      All I can say is: tread lightly on this
                      one, then we'll see what happens.

            He stabs the hang-up button and kills the connection.

            INT. JEEP--DAY

            FOSTER lets out a gigantic sigh of relief.

            He pushes the end button on the phone, then dials another


            MELISSA HUTCHINS enters her kitchen from the back patio. It
            is a tasteful, conservative setting. She is carrying weed
            clippers, wearing rubber gloves, an MIT T-shirt, and looks
            like she's been gardening. Her phone is ringing.

            She answers it. 


            INT. JEEP--DAY

                      Mel! Listen carefully and write this down
                      because I'm in the world's greatest


            MEL is instantly, smoothly pulling a note-pad over to her and
            pulling a pen from the cup by the phone. It should almost be
            so smooth, it looks rehearsed.


            INT. JEEP--DAY

                      I need you to get in contact with the
                      office of Senator Anthony Ribaldi in
                      Washington, or Virginia, wherever he
                      happens to be at that moment. Tell him
                      Walt McGregor has just given Graham
                      Foster of the Washington Post the Truth
                      story, specifically at (looks at his
                      watch) ten am eastern, May twenty-sixth.
                      Ask him if he cares to comment before we
                      run the story but it has to be within the
                      next few hours because we're going to
                      press with it tonight. Set up an
                      appointment with him in regards to the
                      Truth, in my name. Say you're my
                      secretary. I'll bet every cent I ever
                      make that he's in touch within the hour.
                      Also, call the offices of the Assistant
                      Director of the FBI, Robert Hayward. Tell
                      him the same thing.


                          (writing quickly)
                      Got it. You balls-y son of a bitch.

            INT. JEEP--DAY

                      Last but not least, I have to find
                      somebody who was on the Doctor's research
                      team. Hayward and Ribaldi will both know
                      damn well what you're talking about and
                      to get that is worth it's weight in gold,
                      Mel. It's virtually everything. You won't
                      get it, but hope for a miracle anyway.

            He stabs the end button on the phone without waiting for any
            kind of acknowledgement from her. 

                          (Pounding his fist on the
                      YEAH! Fuck yeah! 

            EXT. ROAD--DAY

            FOSTER's jeep veers off the highway, near a sign that says

                                                               ON BLACK:


            EXT. CATWALK--NIGHT

            We follow JIMMY RHODES along a catwalk that skirts the roof
            of his tenement. He is smoking. He is fifteen years old. We
            see the lights of Detroit all around him, seemingly close
            enough to touch. He comes to a break in the make-shift wall,
            stops, and peers cautiously around the corner.

            An old man is sitting on a lawnchair, beer in one hand, a
            cigar clamped in his jaw. This is EDDIE. He's about a hundred
            feet away. Tinny sounds of a baseball game accompany the

            JIMMY begins to creep up on EDDIE from behind. His fingers
            twitch with anticipation.

            EDDIE, oblivious, raises his beer to take a swig.

            JIMMY's hand swoops down and snatches the can right out of
            EDDIE's grasp.

            EDDIE begins to turn in outrage.

                      What the fuck!

            JIMMY brings the can to his own lips, and takes a long,
            luxurious swig. After, he lowers it, swipes a hand across his
            lips, and burps, long and loud.

                      Get within reach, goddamnit!

                      Damn thoughtful of you to offer, Mister
                      Eddie. You're a true gentleman and a

            He chucks the empty beer can over his shoulder, listens for
            it to land, smiles when it doesn't. Remember, they're on the
            roof of a building.

                      You know what? I quit on you. That's it.
                      You're a little shit and that's just the
                      way it is, baby. I gotta accept the fact
                      that I failed. All I got to say to you
                      is: Paybacks are a bitch and you ain't
                      gonna be fifteen forever. Then somebody's
                      gonna be pickin' on yore 'rinkled ol'
                      ass. And you know what else?

            JIMMY is near the edge of the building, city lights twinkling


                      I'm gonna be layin' there in my friggin'
                      grave and laughin' up at yore unlucky ass
                      like a friggin' loon.

                      Eddie, I need to explain something here.
                      Now, there's pickin' on you and there's
                      pickin' from you. What I'm doin' is
                      called pickin' from you.

            JIMMY does a nimble spin in the air and comes down on the
            raised lip of the building, almost landing correctly.

            Shot of JIMMY's foot scraping off the edge by a hair.

            JIMMY's arms pinwheel violently, he teeters, he seems ready
            but unable to scream, sort of gasping instead.

            EDDIE comes forward in his seat, reaching out to grab at

            Back to JIMMY: Instantly, he rights himself and we realize he
            was never off-balance for a second. 


            Interject shot of EDDIE.

                      Perhaps something in a size-nine duhhhh
                      would be more to your liking.

            EDDIE stares at him a bit slack jawed for a beat, then his
            eyes revert downward, as if he's realized something else that
            has nothing to do with this situation. His arm is still
            slightly outstretched, as if JIMMY is still in danger. Then,
            his eyes register intense, debilitating pain, and we realize
            he's having a heart attack.

            Shot of JIMMY's reaction.

            EDDIE falls out of his seat and hits the blacktop, stretching
            out in a futile effort to comfort himself.

            JIMMY is off the ledge in one leap and kneeling by his
            friend's side. He doesn't pick EDDIE up in his arms, afraid
            to touch him in any way.

            EDDIE convulses, beginning to turn red as if he can't breath.

                      Eddie, Jesus Christ, what do I do?

            EDDIE, looking as though he's about to cease breathing
            altogether, suddenly opens his eyes, exhales comfortably, and
            regards JIMMY for a beat before breaking into a shark-like

            JIMMY just stares in shock.

                      That, you little shit, is for you.

            EDDIE nimbly stands, and shuffles back to his overturned lawn
            chair, chuckling quietly but audibly. Only when he takes his
            seat again does a bray of laughter escape him.

                      Alrighty, Jimmy m'boy, now that we've had
                      the evening's shits and giggles, how
                      'bout runnin' over to that cooler and
                      fetchin' a beer for the showman. And grab
                      one for yerself while you're at it. You
                      deserve it.

            JIMMY, still stunned and silent, moves out of frame as if
            he's in a trance. At the cooler, he opens it and fishes
            around in a lake of ice. All we hear is the SPORTSCASTER in
            the background. When he comes back, he's carrying two cans of
            beer, one of which he hands to EDDIE. JIMMY walks to the
            ledge again, subdued now, his earlier enthusiasm for the
            evening changed to melancholy.

                          (looking down at the street)
                      What do you say we take a ride up to the
                      Points, Eddie?

                      Nah, the old man's pooped tonight. All
                      this startling crap you call fun, y'know?

                          (without turning)
                      Just don't pull that heart attack shit on
                      me again. I might just believe you next

                          (after laughing)
                      You might just give me one next time you
                      don't quit playin' on that damn ledge.
                      Now drink that beer before it goes warm
                      on you and you try and scam me out of
                      another one. Gimme the skinny on that
                      little woman of yours.


                      Yeah, the one has the hots for you. Nail
                      her yet?

                      I don't even know if she likes me for

                      Yep. Sounds like love to me. And lemme
                      tell you what pal, every goddamn one of
                      'em's the same. They're all nuts, and no
                      two of 'em in the same way. Sooner you
                      accept that one, the better off you'll

            JIMMY cracks his beer, drains it in one gulp, chucks the
            empty off ten stories. Takes a seat on the ledge, bringing
            his knees up under his chin.

                      Does anyone give a shit about you, Eddie?


                      How do you deal with it?

                      Get used to it. While you have another

                      You know what I'd like to do? I'd like to
                      get the hell out of here, y'know? Just
                      go. I mean, sittin' around here waitin'
                      for someone else to give a shit bites me.
                      I know you're into that.

                      I quite agree. A bite in the ass.

                      So tell me what I'm gettin' into. I mean,
                      there's gotta be something better than
                      Detroit, am I right?

                      Depends on what you think is good, I
                      guess. Reality is what you might call a
                      relative term, Big Jim. Some people never
                      go nowhere and never miss a thing.
                      Everyone's different. Everyone is capable
                      of different things at different times.
                      Some people do the right things startin'
                      out and they do the right things in life,
                      some people gonna fuck up all day. The
                      only thing that limits you is your
                      imagination, I say. Just like everyone's
                      definition of how things should be run is
                      never the same. Why not here?, But that's
                      just me. 'Cept I've already done my time
                      in the world, y'know?
                      I've seen what's on the other side of the
                      rainbow, and the grass that's always
                      greener, and all that good stuff. Let me
                      tell you sumpthin'. There's always gonna
                      be somethin' bad about it, Jim. I don't
                      give a rat's ass how much money you're
                      sittin' on, or who you're with, or where
                      you live. Take it from someone who's done
                      it all, and had it all, and seen it all
                      go away. Everywhere you go there's good
                      and bad, and one could not exist without
                      the other. If you never had bad, how
                      would you know good from the man in the

                      There ain't nothing here but shit, man.
                      That's all I'm gettin' out of it.

                      That's a widely-held opinion, my young

                      Nothing makes sense.

                      But you think things are gonna make sense
                      somewhere else? There is no sense, man.
                      If you go around lookin' for Shangri-La,
                      you ain't never gonna find it. The fun
                      ain't in findin' Shangri-La, it's in the
                      trip. Ain't you never heard that one
                      before, man?

                      Man, what the fuck is Shangri-La?

                          (Shaking his head)
                      Never mind that. These are true
                      statements. Lemme tell you this: The
                      easiest way is to wait until you got some
                      experience and knowledge under your belt
                      before you split. Otherwise, how you
                      think you're gonna be able to see the

                      Fuck easy. I'm ready, that's all there
                      is. I'll even learn on the way.

                      How old are you?

                      Fifteen. I'll be sixteen in two weeks.

                      You gotta practice experience, and it's
                      gonna take a lot of patience, but you
                      ain't gonna be too sorry too often. Be
                      open-minded about it, my brother.
                      Just be open-minded. Never think there's
                      a set way to do things. Do it whatever
                      way works, long as you don't hurt nobody.
                      Society ain't always right but you gotta
                      learn to play the game anyhow, so you can
                      change the game from the inside. You
                      heard of them Salem Witch Trials, ain't
                      you? Where they was burnin' people at the
                      stake just 'cause somebody said they
                      should be. People is sheep, man. I'll
                      give you story after story from history.
                      Look past what the sheep is always doin',
                      look around it. You know what I mean,
                      sport? How old are you?

                      You just asked me that. (A beat) I think
                      I could hack splittin', man. I'm always
                      wonderin' what it would be like to leave,
                      but nobody else ever seems to. I ain't
                      sayin' I'm special or anything, but I
                      could kick some ass out there, Eddie, I
                      know it. 

                      Well, what you think can often fool you,
                      sport. That's all I gotta say.

            JIMMY stares at the city forever.

                      Man, can we just take a small ride
                      through the Points?


            JIMMY laying in bed. His brow is creased, as though not
            asleep, but trying.

            The front door opening slowly and quietly, out in the other
            room. Enter a WOMAN (Jimmy's MOM), then a MAN. They flirt
            briefly in the doorway, like people who have just been out on
            a date. We should sense that this is Jimmy's mom, but the guy
            is no relation whatsoever. On the way to the bedroom, she
            pauses only long enough to switch on the stereo. They enter
            her bedroom and close the door.

            JIMMY. His eyes are now open, but they don't stay that way.
            The music from the stereo carries over. As JIMMY's eyes

            EXT. DREAMLAND--DAY

            Flying over a mystical land. It could be the badlands
            preceding the Rocky Mountains, except that the colors are all
            blazing sharply.

            Into view floats JIMMY, and we realize it's his POV.

            He stands upright as he floats, not like an airplane. He does
            somersaults in the air, enjoying himself. Abruptly, he is
            soaring up the sheer face of a mountain.
            Along the way, we see various sights (trees, houses
            sporadically built into the side of the mountain, waterfalls,

            As he crests the zenith, we see a massive, roiling cloud of
            smoke and gasses, similar to TUTTLE's vision, in the mid

            Softly, he lands on the mountain, but not before seeing a MAN
            IN ROBES and a hood from the sky, watching him casually.
            JIMMY waves, but the apparition does not wave back. JIMMY
            finally lands on an out-cropping face-to-face with the wall
            of gas and smoke.

            JIMMY's POV: Through the smoke, we should see the barest
            outline of a city, miraculous and beautiful--but barely
            tangible. His anxiety is growing. After a shot of the smoke
            wall, show the change of his background to a rock wall,
            expelling any chance of running away.

            JIMMY tenses, and reaches out anyway.

            His fingers break the wall, but that is all.

            A gorge that yawns away into infinity below his ledge.

            JIMMY's eyes go skyward.

            He turns, and it is now a desert that stretches away behind

            He turns back to face forward and the cloud wall is now right
            before him. For two seconds, he is scared, but then wonder
            causes him to reach out.

            And let his fingers penetrate the wall.

            As soon as he does, the wall begins to draw back, revealing
            the gorge again, but separating eventually.

            JIMMY stands before the City, for the first time revealed to
            him. It looks like L.A., blue-lit and peaceful, as though no
            such thing as crime ever existed, only prosperity.

            JIMMY smiles down at it.

            But as it starts to dissipate...

            JIMMY's smile turns to a gradually increasing anxiety.

            He's looking at the ceiling of his own bedroom.

            He closes his eyes again, brow furrowed now.

                                                           CUT TO BLACK:

            Come in with McGregor's V.O.

                      Who are we? There is no definitive
                      information to answer that simple,

            Loud, abrasive telephone ringing makes us jump, as it does
            FOSTER, who we see has been fitfully dozing in his Laz-Z-Boy.
            Blinking, he waits for the phone to ring again, but it
            doesn't. The frenzied look comes back into his eyes, and he
            staggers out of the chair.

            We follow him as he grabs his coat, runs out of the room,
            down the hall of his apartment building, down the stairs one
            flight to the ground, out the main door, outside, to a black
            Sedan waiting at the curb. We follow him all the way to the
            passenger door and stop as he shuts it after his entrance.

            EXT. CURB--NIGHT

            The Sedan takes off smoothly from the curb.

            INT. SEDAN--NIGHT

            exchange looks, the former expressing a subtly defiant
            curiosity, yet with a definite respect and an unspoken
            admonition of inferiority. RIBALDI glance, however, implies
            nothing whatsoever but exhaustion.

                      Thank you for getting back to me so

                          (deep breath)
                      You know, kid, it's easier to be sneaky
                      if you turn out the lights right around
                      midnight. That way, they will probably
                      believe you went to bed at a normal time
                      and they can't see when you leave.

                      Senator, what happened to the other five
                      test subjects?

                      Mind if I call you Graham?

                      Not at all.

                      Graham, I'm just wondering if you've
                      begun to realize that you're standing on
                      the edge of history.

            FOSTER, waiting.

                      No other reporter anywhere has any idea
                      of what you're about to hear.
                      Walt McGregor had successfully managed to
                      open a can of worms today that we may
                      never be able to close. The only way I'm
                      talking to you is on background. I'm sure
                      you're already acquainted with the drill.
                      I'll let you in on our intentions, and
                      all I need in return are your tapes of
                      McGregor's tirade this morning. 

                      You know I can't print anything you say
                      without some kind of corroboration.

                      I'll take care of that. Print the
                      article, citing witnesses who chose to
                      remain anonymous. Next week, we'll let it
                      slip that it was one of my interns. 

                      Ready when you are, Senator.

            INT. 707--DAY

            Slowly progress down the aisle of a luxury 707, in the air.
            Sporadically filling the seats are middle-aged, well-dressed
            men. The SENATORS. 

                                RIBALDI'S VO
                      During Lyndon Johnson's last six months,
                      twelve men, including myself, were chosen
                      to investigate alternative methods of
                      serving criminal rehabilitation. It was
                      obvious the traditional ways were
                      becoming obsolete. Many believed it
                      already was. Too costly, too corrupt, not
                      rehabilitative enough. Anyone in the
                      system will tell you the system is out of
                      control. The entire tone of judiciary
                      justice has been screaming for something
                      more efficient, alteration of any kind
                      that will provide heightened efficiency
                      and accuracy. 

            We follow a younger man down the main aisle. This is SENATOR
            THOMPSON, weaving slightly from the effects of a slight
            martini buzz.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                      What kind of alternative methods?

                                RIBALDI VO
                      In all, sixty-two additions to the
                      current sentencing patterns. 
                          (We see RIBALDI, fresher than
                           he is now, which makes him
                           look noticeably younger. He is
                           sitting at his window seat,
                           staring absently out at the
                           passing clouds.)
                      Whatever you called the drug depended on
                      which side of the fence you were standing
                      on. On paper it was Proposal Twenty-one.
                      To the various scientists involved, it
                      was called Manifest Content Realization,
                      but that was a bit of a mouthful.
                      Eventually, the twelve of us had come to
                      refer to it affectionately as the Truth.

            RIBALDI notices that THOMPSON has approached his seat, and
            jerks out of his reverie immediately with a plastered-on
            smile. Go out with THOMPSON throwing RIBALDI a slick wink and
            a mock toast.

            INT. SEDAN--NIGHT

                      I'm not entirely sure of the drug's
                      chemical properties. It was illustrated
                      for us as the strongest hallucinogen
                      known to man.

                      And what was the outcome of these tests?

            Go out on RIBALDI's expression at the question. He sighs
            almost unnoticeably.

            INT. 707--DAY

                          (slumping down into the vacant
                           seat beside RIBALDI)
                      Two died. So what. Some pedophile and
                      some animal bastard who killed his wife.
                      Good riddance to both. But Tuttle lived,
                      that's the bottom line. We can control
                      the circumstances, from now on. We have a
                      margin of experience that we didn't have
                      going in. The inoculations were too high
                      for the first two and possibly too little
                      for Tuttle. The next four are gonna put
                      all the rest of our questions to bed for

                      Four? We said three after Tuttle?

            THOMPSON looks at RIBALDI and smiles devilishly.

                      You haven't been reading your memo's,
                      Mister Senator. Number four will be known
                      as the Unmentionable Boy for the duration
                      of his participation. Our young Mister
                      Angus Daemon, hailing from New Orleans. O
                      fficially convicted two weeks ago on five
                      counts of first degree murder and looking
                      at a good half a century in the rubber
                          (looking at RIBALDI for the
                           first time since sitting down)
                      All five kills were immediate family

            INT. SEDAN--NIGHT

                      I remember that story.

                      So that was it. Four guinea pigs. Three
                      males, one female.

                      And Tuttle was the fifth?

                      Tuttle unwittingly saved the entire
                      project. After coming out of
                      his...trance, or whatever, he seemed as
                      though he had undergone a complete
                      psychological transplant. We offered it
                      to him one year into a three-year
                      sentence that he was serving in
                      California. He was in for his second
                      Assault conviction in five years. In
                      short, he was indigent, vagrant, petty
                      criminal, living all over the Los Angeles
                      area. The last time, he attacked another
                      man allegedly trying to mug him while he
                      was sleeping in a drainage ditch. 
                      After the process, we watched him closely
                      for another six months, calling him in
                      for daily polygraphs, various psychiatric
                      evaluations--basically anything and
                      everything we could come up with to
                      verify his stability. During these
                      evaluations, Tuttle exhibited a
                      preoccupation with returning to the
                      streets, worrying about the welfare of
                      people he knew. We watched him for
                      another two months then cut his parole,
                      even though he never left our sight.
                      Another week and he's working for ten
                      dollars a day at the East Hollywood soup

                      You're saying you made some kind of saint
                      out of this guy?

                      We had been shooting for conviction that
                      someone could actually ingest this drug
                      and survive. But you weren't the first
                      one to draw that conclusion. The behavior
                      certainly is indicative that some kind of
                      healing had taken place in this man.
                      Unfortunately, one out of three is not
                      the kind of results you release to the
                      The conclusion we could draw was that
                      McGregor's drug might still be worth
                      examination. Every last one of us, Mister
                      Foster, were completely absorbed in the
                      potential the Truth might have brought.

                      You planned to replace prisons?

                      We were trying to divert convictions from
                      prison time. We wanted to weed out some
                      of the offenders showing absolutely no
                      potential for rehabilitation. If we could
                      do that, the only controversy would then
                      lie in the satisfaction of restitution to
                      the victim's family.

                      Alright, I'm trying to understand this.
                      You're saying you planned to give the
                      Truth to anyone who committed a heinous

                      Right. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers,
                      violent criminals. The prison system is
                      never going to go away, at least not in
                      our lifetimes. With some criminals, there
                      is no gray area. They would be the ones
                      taking the Truth, because they are the
                      ones who cannot best themselves. Our
                      immediate necessity was to perfect the
                      drug, and we barely cleared three more
                      subjects. All under the age of twenty-one
                      this time, as requested.

            Interject shot of GINA being interviewed by PAULSON and
            STRICHMANN. Show her weeping with relief, then leaning
            forward to sign an official looking contract/agreement.

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

            FOSTER drinking coffee, a little tired, sitting at his desk
            pondering a copy of the L.A. Times, an article that says:
            Officer Killed in Venice Beach. FOSTER meanders through the
            place, receiving a fax. WORDS ON FAX: Medical and
            Psychological citations, Gustav J. Hesson. 

            FOSTER'S dubious, but serious expression.

            FOSTER moving determinedly through the room. Walks into a
            small conference room. Sees middle-aged WOMAN sitting at the

                      Thank you for coming, Missus Hesson.

            MISSUS HESSON nods compliantly, politely.

                      Are they still watching you?

            MISSUS HESSON nods again, this time with a more desperate

            FOSTER takes a seat across from her.

                      I know this is difficult. 
                      Your husband will be safer if he comes
                      forward. It would be cheaper for the
                      parties involved to let him live, in
                      terms of publicity. I can portray him as
                      a hero. 

            MISSUS HESSON is no longer smiling. 

                                MRS. HESSON
                      You can't guarantee anything, Mr. Foster. 
                      He wanted me to come and tell you where
                      he was because he feels he might have
                      endangered his daughter and I. Or I
                      wouldn't be here. I told him it wasn't
                      the right thing to do, but I trust him. 

            On FOSTER. 


            The sign for the Beaumont City line comes into view and we
            watch it pass, then coming around from FOSTER's POV. He is a
            walking example of profound exhaustion. Inside the car,
            beside him, we watch him drink from a plastic gas station
            mug. He rubs his eyes, he yawns. He looks terrible.

            We track the lone rental car that belongs to FOSTER as it
            enters Beaumont, Texas. It is in the wee hours, which is why
            the highway is deserted. The town is all smokestacks and
            twinkling lights.


            FOSTER's rental wheels in.

            INT. THE ELEVATOR

            FOSTER waits in the elevator as a COWBOY makes out with a

            INT. THE HALLWAY

            FOSTER stands outside room seven sixty-four and takes a deep
            breath, then knocks. FOSTER hears HESSON's VO from the other
            side of the room. 

                                HESSON VO

                      It's Graham Foster, Doctor. 

            The door opens a crack and HESSON peeks out.

            HESSON's POV from the behind the crack, FOSTER's eager to
            please expression.

            INT. HOTEL ROOM--NIGHT

            FOSTER follows HESSON into the room. 

            Swing around the room. It is immaculate.

                      Of course you can understand the

                      Who have you spoken to besides me?

                      No one. Not really. My wife knows
                      something of the situation and so does my
                      daughter. I haven't said a word to anyone
                      else. Would you like coffee?

                      Please. How long have you been here?

                          (HESSON is pouring coffee from
                           a pot on the dresser. He
                           pauses and looks up at
                      Five days. I was on a plane to Anchorage
                      three hours after Walter's interview came
                      out. The next morning I called my wife
                      from there. She told me two men from the
                      FBI had been by the house asking for me.
                      She told them she had no idea where I had
                      gone and they left. Within the hour a van
                      was parked across the street. I called
                      her yesterday and she told me the van is
                      still there. It hasn't left since.
                          (Handing coffee to FOSTER)
                      Hope you like black?

                      Coffee has never looked better, believe
                      me. Did you tell your wife you were
                      coming here?

                      No. I believe they must have my phones
                      bugged by now.
                          (He takes a seat on the edge of
                           one of two double beds. FOSTER
                           takes a seat on the opposite
                      That didn't occur to me until after I
                      spoke with her the first time. Which is
                      why I then flew down here.

                      Why Beaumont?

                      It's as random a place as any. Something
                      tells me I might like to visit Europe for

                      Europe's nice.

                      I'll wait until after we've finished to
                      make my arrangements. 
                          (looks at his watch)
                      It's six-thirty now. How long should this

            FOSTER removes his tape recorder from his pocket and sets it
            on the night table between them.

                      Not long, Doctor. 

            FOSTER presses the 'record' button on the tape recorder.

                      I need you to tell me about Angus. 


            We follow ART PELLOW through ANGUS' parent's house. PELLOW is
            the Detective in charge. At first everything might seem
            reasonably normal, except for the POLICE everywhere. Also, we
            see FORENSIC EXPERTS and a PHOTOGRAPHER. During this, we will
            also hear HESSON's VO, cutting back and forth between the
            hotel room and the murder scene.

                      The Truth, McGregor had proposed, might
                      prove quite useful in the fields of
                      psychoanalysis and, admittedly, it seemed
                      plausible. Alas, we interjected a wild
                      card to the proceedings by the name of
                      Angus Daemon. 


            As PELLOW proceeds, there is first the presence of disruption
            in the house, then blood stains smeared along the wall,
            particularly in the kitchen. Though PELLOW looks down to his
            left at the supposed source of it, we the audience never see

                                HESSON'S VO
                      Angus had been diagnosed schizophrenic at
                      the age of ten. Several incidents at
                      school had prompted his parents to enlist
                      psychiatric aid. Six weeks into therapy,
                      his symptoms begin to recede.
                      Within three months, they're
                      unrecognizable altogether and he
                      continues with a seemingly normal
                      childhood. However...

            PELLOW enters the foyer, preceding the sunken living room. A
            CHILD's body is draped over the divan. A crossbow bolt
            protrudes from his back. In the middle of the floor is the
            body of a teenage GIRL, no evidence of death except for the
            pool of blood under her head.

            Go out from PELLOW's professionally subdued expression,
            barely belying his true revulsion.

            INT. HOTEL ROOM--NIGHT

                      He was apparently in a state of remission
                      that didn't allow his symptoms to appear
                      again until the crimes they resulted in.
                      Senator Thompson had to push like hell
                      for his induction to the process but, by
                      a slim majority, he was voted in.


            PELLOW is approached by DEPUTY WARREN, a young tough in a
            cop's uniform. At once, WARREN is all business, coming toward
            PELLOW from the far end of the hallway that stretches away
            from the foyer. He is carrying a family photo album, open in
            his hands.

                      The boy is Colin, he's the youngest. The
                      girl is Clarissa. Ian is in the kitchen,
                      deceased by means of a kitchen fork. The
                      parents are in the bedroom, one shotgun,
                      one Bowie knife. Basically, everyone's

            He offers the photo album for PELLOW's perusal.

            Shot of the photos: Three young BOYS in swim trunks, arms
            around each other, smiling. 

                      The question we have now is: Where's the
                      one on the end?

            PELLOW squints down at the picture.

                      A friend?

                      A popular friend. He's in at least half
                      the pictures.

                      There's another son? What are we saying?
                      It's a kidnapping.

                      Maybe he got away.

                      Find out. I say it's a kidnapping, gotta
                      be. Show me the parents.

            They turn and head down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

            INT. HOTEL ROOM--NIGHT

            HESSON pauses deliberately. His anticipation has taken on an
            altogether new edge of barely subdued anxiety. He is the mind
            specialist doubting the stability of his own mind. 

                          (looking seriously at FOSTER)
                      Mister Foster. If I take a drink right
                      now, will you publish that act in your

                      No, sir.

            HESSON takes a bottle from under the bed, pours his drink.

                      Pellow himself was the one who found
                      Angus, less than forty-eight hours later.
                      Depending on whom you ask. Those who
                      remember may also recall that it was
                      actually Angus who found Pellow. Either
                      way, it happened in the French Quarter,
                      not six blocks from his parent's house in
                      the Garden District.


            As HESSON's VO continues, PELLOW makes his way blearily onto
            a winding down New Orleans night. He makes about a quarter
            block down the street, the TOURISTS and FREAKS milling around
            him oblivious to his drunkenness, before slumping down onto
            the steps of a closed shop front.

                                HESSON VO
                      Angus' reason for doing this has many
                      possible interpretations. Wanting to get
                      caught, possibilities such as that. I
                      began to feel, after all of the hours I
                      spent with him, that Angus came forward
                      of his own free will having no idea that
                      he was surrendering, and also having no
                      idea of what he was about to be accused
                      of. He came forward because he had a
                      sense that he had posed some kind of
                      irreparable threat to his family, and had
                      also carried that threat to it's

            While we hear HESSON, we see PELLOW slumped on the stoop. He
            takes a flask out of his jacket and drinks from it.
            He watches the people, he gives up trying to focus and lets
            his head hang carelessly. When he raises it again, an
            expression of focus takes over his drunken body. He squints,
            trying to see something apparently across the street. 

            ANGUS crossing the street toward PELLOW. 

            PELLOW sitting stupidly on the steps, regarding ANGUS in hazy

                                HESSON'S VO
                      I think Angus came to Pellow for answers

                          (calmly, little expression)
                      I saw you. At my parent's house.

            We see PELLOW's expression, then his hand going to the back
            of his belt for his handcuffs.

            INT. HOTEL ROOM--NIGHT

            The turning wheels of the tape recorder. 

                      And so it eventually came to be, that
                      after a very sensational trial, Mister
                      Angus Daemon was banished to a hospital
                      for the criminally insane, being as he
                      was only sixteen years old and not
                      eligible for the death penalty in any
                      state. Besides that, I think it was his
                      earlier psychological evaluations that
                      saved him. At any rate, his inclusion to
                      our studies was paved by the efforts of a
                      Senator Thompson, from New York, I think.
                      At first, I must admit, Doctor McGregor
                      and myself were absolutely ecstatic at
                      the potential mine of discovery to be


            Enter on HESSON, sitting comfortably in an armchair, gazing
            at who sits before him. In a soft, childish whisper, we hear
            in VO:

                                ANGUS/SOPHIE VO
                      What is that?

            A video-camcorder, mounted on a tripod, aimed at us.

                      That's just a camera, Sophie. Nothing to
                      worry about.

                          (eyes closed)
                      What's it doing here?

                      Does it bother you?

                      I don't think so.

                      I would consider it a personal favor,
                      Sophie, if you would let me keep it on.
                      I've never gotten you on tape yet. I
                      believe it will help us in the long-run.
                      (beat) Sophie? Can I see the Hotel? 

                      I don't know. I don't think they want to
                      talk today.

                      We should try if that's okay, Sophie. So
                      many of them haven't even met me yet. We
                      need to be introduced, don't you think?

                          (opening of the eyes to slits)
                      I'll try.
                          (eyes re-close. A sustained
                      I'm there.

                      Tell me when we're in the door.

                      Up the stairs first!

                      Of course, of course. I didn't see them.
                      You have to lead me Sophie, okay? 

                      These stairs are too big. They take
                      forever! Okay, open the door; it's too
                      big for me.

                      My, those are heavy doors. How big do you
                      figure they are?

                      Oh, at least a hundred feet high. Okay,
                      we're inside. Nobody's downstairs right
                      now. We have to call them.

                          (seemingly as concentrated as
                           Angus is)
                      How about Job? Is he around? (a beat)
                      Who's here, Sophie? I can't wait to meet
                      them all.

                          (brow furrowing in deeper
                      Wait a minute! Someone's comin'--

            HESSON leans forward slightly, closely examining his subject.

            ANGUS' head and shoulders appear to shiver violently, almost
            convulsively, for a second. When his eyes open again, it is
            fully, and they focus directly on HESSON.

                      Who the fuck is that...?

                          (still calm)
                      I'm Doctor Hesson. I don't believe we've

            HESSON offers his hand, which ANGUS, now in the control of
            the COLONEL, reaches out and slaps away viciously.

                      Who the fuck brought you here!


                      You little bitch! That little cunt don't
                      run shit around here, I fucking do! And
                      you best fuckin' remember it!

                          (somewhat shaken now, more
                      You're absolutely--

                          (screaming now)
                      You ask me, I'm the fuckin' boss!

            HESSON collects himself quickly, professionally. He sits back
            again and resumes being comfortable once again. But now, he
            is newly fascinated as well.

                      At last we meet, Missus Daemon.

                          (calming himself)
                      You can call me the Colonel, I suppose.
                      Seeing how everyone seems to like you so

                      Thank you, Colonel. I promise I won't
                      disturb you. May I please stay here. 
                          (Unrequited fascination)
                      It's such an amazing place.

            INT. HOTEL ROOM--NIGHT

            HESSON, putting out a cigarette.

                      The multiple never is aware that he is a
                      multiple. Would, in fact, insist that he
                      is not. As I say, we were never able to
                      find out what exactly was the cause of
                      Angus' dissociative states, but the Truth
                      would have shed considerable light on
                      that, I'm sure. I would've given anything
                      to understand the boy's mind first hand,
                      to see him understand--and it was going
                      to happen. Essentially, he was innocent.
                      Not only would he have survived, I
                      believe he would have also been saved.

                      Saved from what, Doctor?

                      Saved from himself, of course.

                      What became of him?

                      If I tell you, I'll be damning myself.

                      Doctor. If the FBI has it's way, you
                      already have.

                      I let them go.

            Go out on FOSTER's expression of stunned realization.

            EXT. WOODS--DUSK

            The four come to the edge of the treeline and pause
            separately, waiting for what we eventually see...

            A old, beaten-up flatbed stake truck is parked by the ditch
            that runs along this back fire road. The DIGGER is gathering
            his shovel, cooler, and radio and putting them in the back of
            the truck, his back to us and them.

            CU of JIMMY's eyes, then GINA's. Both are terrified,

            All four of them move out of  the treeline, sneaking up on
            the truck from behind, the driver's blind spot. Carefully,
            they climb into the truck, dropping out of sight and laying
            low. The DIGGER has walked around to the driver's side and is
            getting in. Eventually, the truck takes off with it's

                                                            DISSOLVE TO:

            EXT. THE DESERT--DAY

            When the scene changes, we are now in the desert, in the heat
            of the day, under the blazing sunlight. In the distance is a
            dilapidated military compound. It looks more like a forgotten
            concentration camp. Various shots follow: of weed-grown gas
            and oil tanks, an airplane hanger or two, a barracks...each
            of the backdoors in said building facing out on a barren view
            of the never-ending wasteland. Show LYNCH in this place,
            describe the loneliness.

            INT. REHAB--NIGHT

            LYNCH laying in bed, a fine sweat on his forehead, moonlight
            shining across him. He is smoking a cigarette. His expression
            only registers sadness.


            LYNCH stretching over the counter of a nurse's station, tilts
            a small, plug-in alarm clock toward him and reads the time.
            It is six-fifteen.


            We see LYNCH sitting on one of two sofas that face each
            other. He is staring at something on the opposite sofa. He is
            smoking a cigarette. His eyes show a distant combination of
            lust and sadness.

            The girl he is staring at, NIKKI, is curled into a ball under
            a long, sexy T-shirt. Half-asleep, half-shaking. Withdrawals.


            Shot of LYNCH's eyes clamped shut. He is on his back, though
            this does not have to be obvious. His face is contorted in

            EXT. REHAB--DAY

            LYNCH vaulting an ascending stairway's railing, disappearing
            over the other side. The day is snowy, and he's wearing a
            loose-fitting coverall, with untied boots, as if he hastily

            EXT. THE DESERT--DAY

            LYNCH sitting on the steps of the residence he was made to
            keep while waiting for the process to begin. He looks
            absolutely alone, inside himself from the isolation.


            LYNCH's expression has relaxed somewhat, from tension into

            EXT. REHAB--DAY

            LYNCH sprinting across the field outside the rehab he once
            frequented for drug addiction.


            Come in from LYNCH's eye. CU of his face. 

                          (laying beside him in the back
                           of the truck)
                      Can you believe this shit, or what?

                      I can't...

            The DRIVER touches the brake, and LYNCH's eyes shoot skyward

            We see the treetops passing by over the road.

                      Do you feel sick?

                      A little.

                      Do you have any idea what's happening?

                      We have to get off this truck?


                      We have to get out of sight. They'll be

                          (looking at him seriously now,
                           as if gauging when he'll
                      We have to let someplace to let this shit
                      run it's course. It's got to end

            LYNCH seems to relax only slightly.

                      Are we really fucking free? 
                          (looking skyward )
                      My God, can this be happening?

                      What's your name, man?

            LYNCH's eyes close, uncomfortable.

                      My name's Gina.

                          (too loud)
                      We have to get off this goddamned truck.

            He starts to rise.

                                JIMMY VO
                      Hey! Get down, stupid mutherfucker!

                          (down again, with GINA's hand
                           on his arm)
                      Something's wrong.

                      Don't ask questions, man. You're just
                      free. All we have to do is ride this out.

            From above, we lower on LYNCH as his features relax
            gradually. Go out on his eyes, which open with a newer,
            confident strength. A determination to stay alive.

            On black: THE PRESENT

            EXT. WOODS--DAY

            JIMMY and GINA are moving through the woods, in no particular
            hurry. They find the house in Twin Lakes. 


            From the inside, we watch the knob on the kitchen door
            jiggle. It's locked. Then a small pane in the window of the
            door shatters and a hand slips through, unlocking the door
            and pushing it open. JIMMY and GINA enter, obviously
            exhausted and looking like shit. JIMMY almost immediately
            falls to the floor and begins vomiting. GINA comes in behind
            him, but not before...

            CU on the small scattering of newspapers on the welcome mat.
            GINA notices these and grabs them before ducking inside and
            shutting the door.

            JIMMY staggers into the living room, collapses on the sofa.

            GINA feverishly parts the curtains, just slightly, and peers

            GINA rummages through cupboards, then the fridge. Chicken leg
            in hand, she heads into the bedroom. Various shots of her
            going through the room's dressers and closets. Finding
            clothes and tossing them on the bed.

                          (from the other room)

            GINA's eyes jerk up and her attention goes to the living
            room. In there, we see JIMMY convulsing on the couch. GINA
            goes to him. 

            INT. LIVING ROOM--DAY

            GINA takes JIMMY's head in her hands and cradles him. 

                      Alright, slow down. Relax, Jimmy. It's
                      gonna be okay. I'm gonna stay here with
                      you. Jimmy? It's gonna be okay. 
                          (JIMMY is visibly shaking, eyes
                           clamped shut as if unable to
                           leave a nightmare.) 
                      Here. I'm gonna turn on the TV, okay? 

            GINA turns to the television, which is nearby, clicks it on.

            On the TV, various channels. 

                                GINA VO
                          (to herself)
                      How 'bout CNN?
                          (She finds it)


            Video of a scholarly looking gentleman in spectacles, being
            interviewed. This is DOCTOR HESSON.

                      Though such a title of course is not
                      generally associated with the career of a
                      scientist--McGregor was not just any
                      scientist, then or now. Even years before
                      his famous experimentation with the
                      Truth, his image was synonymous with a
                      perpetual mystery. At the age of sixty
                      eight, McGregor had already been a legend
                      for the past twenty-five years of his

            GINA eyes the screen with interest.


                          (under him is his name and
                           newspaper on the screen)
                      Doctor HESSON, what would you say about
                      the ethical practice of experimental

                      Talk about something. Just talk.

            GINA is rocking him back and forth gently, trying to keep
            them both calm. 

                      Just tell me how you could have come to

            GINA's eyes go distant, away to the side as she continues to
            ease her friend.


            A Suburban comes into view, no hurry. 

            INT. THE SUBURBAN

            Open on JOEL, Gina's boyfriend. He is driving, taking a hit
            off of a joint. Feeling good. Listening to the music and
            feeling the land. 

            We see a girl's hand writing in a notepad. A shot of the
            letter reveals that she is writing to someone named Lorraine.


                      I was looking for something. So I went to

            INT. SUBURBAN--DAY

            JOEL hands over the joint to the owner of the POV.

            GINA MAYFIELD looks up from what she is writing, smiles
            lovingly at him, and takes it. As she hits it, her VO

                      I came from a town in South Dakota.
                      Called Canton.

            The Suburban rolling off down the highway, past a billboard
            welcoming them into Wyoming.


            JIMMY opens his eyes, thus far clamped shut in feverish
            discomfort. He is focusing on her words now.


            The country as she travels to California, shots culminating
            in the billboard that eventually welcomes them into the state
            of California.

                                GINA VO
                      I was stupid. But I had to try. At least
                      I thought I had to. I thought I was
                      supposed to do it, leaving home. Maybe
                      you are, but I'm not sure I was mentally
                      prepared for what I was after. 


            JIMMY, listening, calming down. His eyes are weak slits.

                          (Slightly smiling now)
                      I wanted to be an actress. Is that
                      fucking ridiculous, or what?

            INT. SUBURBAN--DAY

            Perhaps end with GINA looking lovingly at Joel.

            INT. FOLEY'S HOUSE--DAY

            GINA waking up on the couch at FOLEY's. There is a KID asleep
            in swim trunks on the floor. We follow her through the house,
            smoking, hear the sound of the shower running, enter a room
            and see two shapes writhing dubiously under a sheet on the
            bed. There is music playing (?). For some reason, this
            doesn't look like sex, and GINA walks back out shaking her
            head. Re-enter the living room, where she started, and this
            time a young MAN wearing swim trunks, dripping, comes in off
            the back deck. Beyond him is the ocean. He ignores her and
            continues on to the kitchen, out of sight. She glances after
            him, but that is all.

            EXT. BEACH--DAY

            On to the outside, and blistering sunlight. We continue,
            following her down to the sand, then toward the water. Right
            down to the waterline, where she sits cross-legged.


            She half-turns, and not quickly. We see JOEL in a towel, on
            the deck, standing at the door. Sluggish posture, uncaring.
            It matches the expression in GINA's eyes. Sluggishly, she
            turns back to the sea and doesn't move.

            INT. FOLEY'S HOUSE--DAY

            We get the sense that a brief time has passed before GINA
            finally re-enters the house. This time, there is a woman on
            the couch, smoking a long cigarette. There is a different
            young man on the floor, wearing swim trunks. GINA and the
            woman exchange looks--the woman is GINA's future.


            GINA pushes through batwing doors into a sub-standard
            kitchen. FOLEY is rummaging around in the fridge, frustrated. 

            There is a battered briefcase on the table.

                      Deliver unto me the ass of he who has
                      taken my food. Deliver it on a platter
                      fashioned from the bones of his family
                      and serve it with the garnish of his
                      diseased children
                          (looking up, he sees her)
                      My mac'n'cheese. Who took it?

                          (just looking at him)
                      Have you seen Joel?

                      I don't know, I'm thinking: My birthday,
                      people give to me. Not, come to my house.
                      Steal what is mine.

            GINA walks back out.

            INT. LIVING ROOM--DAY

            On the couch is JOEL, lacing up his shoes. He still looks
            like Canton, South Dakota in his John Deere cap. The woman is
            gone. The kid on the floor is gone.

                      Where we going?

                      Into town. Foley has some coins he wants
                      to dump.

                      What about breakfast?

                      McDonald's serves 'till 10:30. It's only
                      nine. We'll run by after.

                          (from the kitchen, slightly
                      Come on! Let's go!

            Annoyed expression from GINA. JOEL is resigned. They both go
            back to the kitchen. The three of them gather last minute
            things and head out.


            GINA's expression is terrible loss or regret. She looks down
            at JIMMY to find him...

            apparently asleep. A noise from the kitchen.

            She looks up and back toward the kitchen.

            Shot of the kitchen doorway reveals the edge of the table and
            the newspapers she took from the front porch hanging off the
            side just a bit. It's okay if the audience doesn't catch what
            she's looking at. It's a sense that she's not here alone.

            EXT. STREET--NIGHT

            SETTING: The main street of a nameless Colorado mountain

            Come in on LAWRENCE, a young, hillbilly punk. We watch him
            light up a smoke. He is approximately eighteen.

            We see the front of Smoothie's, a small-town pool
            hall/bar/grill. It is lit-up, busy--the only place to go in
            this town on a Saturday night.

            He starts forward, crossing the street toward Smoothie's. In
            the distance, at the gas station on the corner, we can see
            and hear a small group of rowdy, high-school age kids,
            yelling at each other and trying to have fun with nothing to

            LAWRENCE approaches the glass doors of Smoothie's, stopping
            outside of them and looking in wistfully.

            LAWRENCE's POV: people inside having a good time, shooting
            pool, drinking, laughing.

            LAWRENCE watches this somewhat depressed. He isn't old enough
            to get in.

            Rock POV: We come in fast toward the back of LAWRENCE's head.

            We see LAWRENCE's head buck forward and bounce off the glass
            doors. His hand immediately goes to the back of his neck,
            shocked. Before he turns around to see who threw it, he looks
            up again, into Smoothie's.

            A table full of ladies look up at the distraction, see what
            has happened, and burst out laughing.

            LAWRENCE sees them smirking and flushes, embarrassed.

            He turns to face his antagonists. Just past his profile,
            standing in the shadows, we see the silhouette of someone
            else, but at this point, it's not apparent who.

            LAWRENCE starts back into the street, getting angry,
            apparently ready to attack, but just off the curb, he stops,
            a quizzical look on his face.

            From behind his back, we watch him turn back around. He has
            also noticed the presence of a stranger, even though it took
            a moment to sink in. Still not showing the stranger, we stay
            on LAWRENCE.

            LAWRENCE resumes his business, continuing across the street.
            We watch as he attacks the kids who threw the stone,
            basically kicking the living shit out of them. Eventually, he
            returns to Smoothie's and we proceed with him.

            ANGUS waits, unmoved by the display, or the violence.

                      Where you from, dude?

            ANGUS just looks at him.

                      You just break out, son?

                      I don't know.

                      Well, ya either did or ya didn't.

                      No, then.

                      What's yer name, boy?


                      Reginald? That queer?

            ANGUS just looks at him.

                      I think you just broke out of the joint,
                      didn't you?

            For the first time, we show ANGUS in full, and he is standing
            there in an orange prison jumpsuit.

                      Where from? Canon City? Alcatraz of the
                      Rockies, right? My brother Dwayne did six
                      years down there. Bobby did three. Maybe
                      you and him know some of the same folks.
                      How 'bout comin' on over to the house?

                      Why'd you do that to those guys?

                      'Cause I'm a crazy mutherfucker, boy,
                      that's why. Besides, they's just dumbass
                      punk faggots anyway. You cain't take shit
                      offa nobody, y'know? The ol' man says 'if
                      they start pushin' you around, just go
                      fer the balls, boy. Kick 'em in the
                      stones'. My ol' man was in the shit and
                      he knows. Ya don't bend over for nobody,
                      boy. He don't take shit from Gawd.
                      'Course, momma says the ol' man's been a
                      little nutty ever since he came back but
                      I don't know--not all the time, anyhow.
                      How 'bout you, boy? You a little nutty,

            ANGUS just looks at him, saying nothing.

            EXT. STREET--NIGHT

            ANGUS is huddled alongside a building, knees up to his
            chin, trying to be part of the wall itself.
            We can see that he is wearing LAWRENCE's clothes. LAWRENCE
            himself is nowhere in sight.

            We see various shots of the town. The VFW Hall, the coin
            laundry. An ice cream parlor.

            ANGUS stands, and walks out to the street. He is in front of
            Smoothie's when the attack hits, and he falls to the planks
            of the wooden sidewalk in apparent pain, drawing his knees up
            under his chin again, this time in a fetal position, with a
            muffled groan on the way down. The buzzing commences.

            Interjected are various shots: a coyote drinking from a
            river, riding in the back of the truck with the others,
            staring at the trees passing overhead. Fragmented memories.

            ANGUS is now walking, distractedly, along the sidewalk,
            mumbling to himself. Past him, in the distance, we see
            lightning light up the mountain ridges that surround him.

            Eventually, he is outside town, walking along the road now.
            The rain begins, turning quickly into a downpour. ANGUS
            doesn't seem to notice.

            We see a pair of headlights come out of a curve in the

            It pulls up beside him, and a female voice speaks. This is
            MELODY. She is wearing a black buckskin jacket and black
            cowboy hat.

                      Hey, that you, Lawrence?

            ANGUS stops, and we see the eyes roll back into his head for
            a second. Then he turns.

            And steps into view on the passenger side window of a black,
            beat-up pick-up truck.

            MELODY is looking out at him, warm, country-girl smile, arm
            up on the back of the seat. She understands gradually that it
            isn't Lawrence, but she doesn't seem to care.

                          (pleasant smile)
                      I ain't Lawrence, ma'am, but I sure would
                      appreciate a ride into town.

                      Well, that's why I stopped, Sugar. Where
                      in town ya goin'?

                      Anywhere dry.

                                MELODY VO
                      Come on, jump in.


            Door opens from black screen, to reveal...

            PAULSON and STRICHMANN, wearing their customary somber suits,
            expressionless. They are standing outside the apartment of
            ARTHUR PELLOW.

            PELLOW himself is standing in the doorway, bleary-eyed,
            unshaven, perhaps wobbly as if hungover.

                          (offering a badge)
                      Mister Pellow, my name is Glenn
                      Strichmann. This is Don Paulson. We're
                      with the Federal Bureau of Prisons. Mind
                      if we come in for a minute?

                      No shit. FBP, huh? What on earth can I do
                      for you guys?

            They enter.

                      Mr. Pellow, we're here in regards to the
                      stories you've probably been seeing in
                      the papers recently, pertaining to
                      certain government experiments? 

                      How could I miss them?

                      Are you aware of the individuals used in
                      the experiments, Mr. Pellow?

                          (a beat)
                      You're here about Angus Daemon.

                      We'd like to ask you some questions, if
                      you wouldn't mind.

                          (grim, but nodding)
                      Sure. Shoot.

                      Well, first of all, your report specified
                      that he came along freely. That he
                      actually surrendered to you.

                      Wait a minute. Wait a minute, maybe we
                      could start with you filling me in on
                      where we're going first. Y'know, one G
                      man to another.

                      You are aware that Angus is running
                      around loose somewhere in the Rocky
                      Mountains with an experimental drug in
                      his system.

                          (trying to joke around)
                      Yeah, the papers did say something about
                      him getting away from you.

                          (leaning in:)
                      They had help from one of the doctors. 

                          (thinking about it)
                      You guys want coffee?

                      Sure, if you are. Mister Pellow...

                          (going into the kitchen)
                      Call me Art.

                          (staying put in the dining room
                           with Paulson as Pellow
                           rummages in the kitchen)
                      Art. We're basically just looking for
                      anything we might have missed. Maybe some
                      tidbit somewhere along the course of the
                      arrest that didn't make it into your
                      report. Maybe something that seemed
                      insignificant at the time.

                          (coming back to the kitchen
                      Ideally, something that's going to give
                      you the magical key as to where he might
                      be headed right now, right?
                          (Blank stares from PAULSON and
                      Look, guys. I don't mean to sound like a
                      jerk here or anything, but don't you guys
                      have people more qualified than me to
                      tell you what's inside his head? 

                      You were there, Art. The analysts were
                      not. For some reason, the kid walked
                      right up to you, two days after killing
                      five people. If we ask ten different
                      shrinks why, they're going to give us ten
                      different answers.

                      He turned himself in. He knew I was a
                      cop, that's all. He knew I was a cop
                      because he saw me at the scene, that's
                      all. I doubt he has a destination. He
                      killed his entire family. Where's he
                      gonna go? Disneyland?

                      Your report said that he offered no
                      resistance to arrest, no apparent remorse
                      for his crime, no apparent knowledge of
                      his crime for that matter, let alone any
                      animosity toward you.

                          (back in the kitchen, pouring
                           the coffee, he looks sideways
                           at them)
                      That's right.

                      So he's crazy, right? I mean, in your non
                      professional opinion.

            PELLOW comes back into the room with coffee, which he hands
            to each of them. As PAULSON asks the question, PELLOW shrugs,
            as if to say "What's with this guy?"

                      So how can you say if he saw you he
                      wouldn't do it again?

                      You guys can't be this much up against
                      the wall.

                      We want you on this investigation, Art.
                      (Tiredly) It's worth the shot just to
                      have you in the vicinity. It might be the
                      one stupid thing that brings him back.

                      So you think he's crazy and stupid?
                      Somehow, I don't buy it.

                      We need any and every advantage we can
                      possibly get our hands on here, Art. Do
                      you have any idea the pressure we're
                      under to get these four back? Without
                      them, we pretty much lose any chance of
                      ever hearing from McGregor again, or
                      Hesson. If we get any of them, especially
                      Angus, maybe we can get either one or
                      both of the Doctors back and fix this

                      Look, you're making good money with this
                      side business of yours right? Fine work
                      tracking bail jumpers. It's kind of fun.
                      We can pay you twice what you could
                      possibly make in one year. 

                      And this shouldn't take more than two

                      If that.

                          (shaking his head
                      What you guys need is a witch-doctor to
                      find this kid.

                      All we have is you, Art.

            Out on PELLOW.

            EXT. WOODS--MORNING

            Open frame, trees in the near-distance. ANGUS sits up into
            our view quickly, aiming a gun at us. A forty-five. Breathing
            fast as if startled out of sleep. He is wearing a black
            fringe coat. 

            Wide-angle of the surrounding woods, lingering for a moment.
            We see foliage flutter, hear birds screech somewhere.

            Back to ANGUS: wild-eyed expression, paranoid. He senses he's
            being watched.

                      Come out!

            Nothing but apparently deserted woodland.

            On ANGUS: a rustling sound off-camera. ANGUS swivels to track

            We see a deer in the near distance, stepping out of the
            treeline to drink from a brook.

            ANGUS, at this point, realizes his legs are submerged in the
            very same brook, and crab-walks out of it.

            Another loud rustling, and this time ANGUS fires off a shot,
            terrified. A flock of birds take to the sky, but ANGUS is not

            Turning in a 360, gun out in front of him, he yells again.

                      I know you're here! You son of a bitch, I
                      can hear you! Come out!

            Surrounding shadows and trees. 

            ANGUS walking up an embankment. At the treeline, he stops.
            For a brief moment, we watch him as he watches the freeway
            just past the trees, cars passing sporadically in either

            ANGUS' profile: Slowly, his eyes close, then re-open in a
            As if feeling a kink, his hand goes to his neck and begins
            tiredly massaging. Then, all at once, he straightens up, as
            if about to enter a respectable establishment.

            Shot of him tucking the forty-five into his waistband at the
            small of his back, then dropping the edge of the jacket over

            Shot of him running his fingers through his hair, a palm over
            his face to revive it. Then, after a deep breath, he pushes
            into the last barrier between safety and civilization.

            EXT. HIGHWAY--DAY

            We see ANGUS come out of the woods, walk up to the shoulder
            of the road, look both ways, then strike off to the north.


            LYNCH is standing in the bathroom of the diner, in some Rocky
            Mountain town where he is hiding. We come into the scene
            focusing on the bathroom mirror and, after a beat, LYNCH
            walks into view. He looks like shit, but at least he's
            managed to steal actual clothes. He regards himself in the

                                LYNCH O/S
                      Alright. What did I do? Sold some weed,
                      few guns, couple cars. 

            He turns on the water, wets his hands, runs them through his
            hair. Turns to the door.

                      You let me get away with this, and I
                      swear I'm gone for good. I'll fucking go
                      north and disappear forever, out of your
                      fucking hair. 

            INT. DINER--DAY

            LYNCH walks out.

            His POV: We see the various patrons at the counter. FAT JACK

            LYNCH walks past a good bit of the counter. Interject the
            buzz. About halfway to the door, an arm belonging to a person
            we didn't see before reaches out and stops LYNCH.

            LYNCH looks down.

            And sees a burly man in a black PRIEST's robes, sleeves
            tattered and pushed up on his arms, revealing tattoos that
            cover the skin. He is wearing a black cowboy hat and chomping
            on a cigar. 

                      Sit down, turd.

                      'Scuse me?

                      Sit down, you bucket a'shit. 'Fore I cut
                      your legs off fer ya. That'll bring you
                      down some.

            LYNCH sits on the stool beside the PRIEST carefully, more
            fascinated than scared of this weird apparition in such a
            mundane place.

                      It's time for school, Lynch. I'm gonna
                      tell you a little something about
                      religion. It was all initially intended
                      to provide an avenue toward securing
                      peace in oneself. A release mechanism, to
                      kick in when we can't find hope anywhere
                      else. An alternative option, you might
                      say, to the terrible wilderness. An
                      option besides the truth, which is that
                      we're all just waiting to die. 

            On LYNCH.

                                PRIEST O/S
                      But then a man came along and put his own
                      two cents into it, talking wild shit
                      about burning bushes, talking donkeys,
                      water into wine. And other men started
                      putting rules into it. 
                          (on PRIEST)
                      You see, society has taught us that there
                      must be a means to the end. There's no
                      free lunch, right? So there can be no
                      peace without extreme sacrifice. We put
                      the transcendental into words that we
                      could understand. "Go to church
                      constantly, turn the other cheek." Who
                      came up with that shit? I'll tell ya who.
                      The same mutherfuckers who started taking
                      the metaphors literally in the first
                      place, that's who. Man did it. Not all
                      men, just fools. Men who claimed divine
                          (slow pan around at the others
                           in the diner; they don't know
                           this is going on)

                                PRIEST O/S
                      But God is free, man. All you gotta do is
                      accept it, be at peace. Do you think Gawd
                      Almighty really gives a holy fuck if you
                      tithe? I ask you, who do you think is
                      really responsible for bringing money
                      into it? I'll tell you, it was just
                      another worthless, evil, and
                      opportunistic man.

            On PRIEST

                      I say Gawd Almighty only gives a shit if
                      you're clean enough to find your own
                      center, young man, and you best remember
                      that. Saint Paul was just another
                      mutherfucker with a cellular phone!

            Angle on LYNCH, dumbstruck.

                                PRIEST O/S
                      But what if they were all lying? Trying
                      to make a name for themselves with this
                      new thing called Jesus, selling the
                      prospect of an illusion called peace?
                      Beachfront property in Jerusalem. 
                          (on PRIEST)
                      Here's a flash: What if the whole thing
                      is based on a bunch of nomads putting on
                      the locals for room and board?

            LYNCH appears slightly ill, weak, pale. He leans his head in
            his hand, breathing slightly irregular. He takes a pan around
            the room. FAT JACK is fooling with the jukebox. The WOMAN is
            talking white noise into a cell phone.

                      Let me tell you a story, my boy.

            Angle on LYNCH from under the counter. He has laid his
            forehead on the counter and is staring down at us in pained

                          (come in on his tattooed
                      A myth actually. You like myths, Lynch?
                      It's called the Myth of the World's Most
                      Beautiful Room. Have you ever heard that
                      one before, Lynch?

            LYNCH starts to stand, looking as though he wants to pass

                      I gotta--

            The PRIEST moves an arm to stop him casually.

                      Sit down, son.

            We see the knife blade that is now sticking into LYNCH's
            intestine just slightly.

            LYNCH looks down at it, then into the eyes of the PRIEST.

                      Sit down before I gut you in front of all
                      these nice people.

            LYNCH sits/slumps back down onto his stool.

                                PRIEST O/S
                      Some forty or fifty years ago, the
                      origins of the Myth were tracked by a
                          (On PRIEST)
                      roundtable, if you will, of very esteemed
                      historians, university professors--people
                      of that sort. They eventually agreed that
                      it must have come from the northern
                      realms of Scotland, and guesstimated it's
                      origin to a point in time that may have
                      coincided with the Holy Crusades. How
                      they came to that conclusion I'm not
                      exactly sure but anyway, the Room's
                      location had previously been alleged to
                      be in various places...

            The PRIEST's lines fade and warble out of coherence as we go
            to LYNCH, whose head is on the table again. He is worse now
            than he was, drooling, eyes rolling up into his sockets. 

            He looks sideways as the PRIEST's words continue, along with
            a buzz that comes from nowhere. He sees the woman with the
            cell phone, talking animatedly and gesturing to no one with
            her hands.

                                PRIEST O/S
                          (silently, lips moving)
                      The story is, after all, only a myth, and
                      never made it into the history books.
                      This think-tank had no map, no guidelines
                      of latitude or longitude, no
                      illustrations or mentions of detail in
                      design. The Room's owner was also
                      alleged, but his name escapes me. A
                      prince, I'm fairly certain. 
                          (Back to audible)
                      But the point, young white boy, lies in
                      the story itself.
                      The Room, with it's superior richness of
                      beauty and elegance in architectural
                      craftsmanship, was a place seemingly
                      impossible to describe in a like manner
                      by any two people daring to claim they
                      had been there before. Every impression
                      of detail, time and again, seemed doomed
                      to hopeless conjecture. The stories that
                      seeped down to the collective
                      consciousness eventually melded into one,
                      and only one, point in common.

            The PRIEST suddenly jerks sideways, toward LYNCH. 

                      But despite the lack of a match in mental
                      pictures of the place, there was never a
                      doubt that an intrinsic feeling--a
                      sensation, Lynch--had been carried away
                      by the visitor. To each and every one of
                      them, that magic had been beheld and

                          (almost pleading now)
                      I gotta go, man...

                          (Still smiling; talking faster,
                           running through the words)
                      The Room, Thommy, inevitably rose to such
                      obscure heights of symbolism that it's
                      story gradually became synonymous with
                      absolute purity. It's essence was
                      believed, upon the very first moment of
                      visual perception, to automatically
                      become imbedded in a place of the human
                      soul so deep that no memory could ever
                      hope to conjure it. Now, in time and
                      keeping with the customs of the age,
                      superstition eventually provoked the name
                      of everything from magic, to the Devil,
                      to the hand of God Himself as the
                      conceiver of a miracle such as that of
                      the Room.
                      Following a generation of being handed
                      down by any and every kind of nefarious
                      storyteller, the Myth of the World's Most
                      Beautiful Room was obliged to sustain a
                      load of popularity almost too vast to
                      accurately judge. For a good hundred
                      years or so, it was rivaled only in
                      demographic popularity by Catholicism. 

            The PRIEST closes his eyes, wistful

                      However, Lynch my Lovely
                      it was never inarguably proven that the
                      Room ever existed at all.

                          (looking nearly dead)
                      Man, where are you from?

                      It means anything's possible, my dear.

            LYNCH stands now without further ado, intent on walking the
            hell out of there. The PRIEST grabs him viciously now, and
            brings him all the way down to the floor, knocking his head
            on the counter on the way down, and toppling the stool.

                          (looking down on LYNCH)
                      My boy, my boy. How I am gonna enjoy that
                      cherry of yours...

            LYNCH tries to squirm away.

            The PRIEST reaches down, as if he plans to pull a fish out of
            a barrel. He comes up with LYNCH by the hair, bringing LYNCH
            face to face with him.

                      Ooooohhhh, the python do love a wild
                      spirit! But they're just so much more fun
                      when they're facin' the other way!

            The PRIEST pitches LYNCH across the room effortlessly.

                      There is no saving you, boy. No inherent
                      goodness, no good overcoming evil, and
                      certainly no loving Gawd. Just me, boy.
                      The real thing. Go ahead and crawl, meat. 
                          (o/s: on LYNCH)
                      Battles are many, but the only way this
                      war's gonna be won 
                          (on PRIEST)
                      is if you do exactly what I tell you. 

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

            FOSTER on the phone, setting up TUTTLE.

            CU of him writing on a sticky-note: Tuttle. Hollywood. 5pm,

                      Thank you, Mr. Tuttle...Yes, I promise.
                      Of course. Absolutely...Not a chance,
                      sir. Yes. Goodbye.

            He hangs up, stands, and leaves his cubicle. 

            We slowly zoom in on the phone, with its row of call-waiting
            buttons. After several seconds, one of them lights up and
            begins to pulsate.

            INT. ROTH'S OFFICE--DAY

            FOSTER sees through the glass wall of ROTH's office that ROTH
            is in there by himself, perusing some paperwork on his desk.
            FOSTER knocks once and enters.

                      We have Tuttle. Tomorrow in Hollywood,
                      five p.m.

                          (nodding his head in silent
                      Good job, kid.

            FOSTER nods a thankyou, starts to back out of the room.

                      Hey, Graham.

            FOSTER stops.

                      You're the luckiest son of a bitch alive.

            FOSTER looks at him.

                      People don't get as lucky as you very
                      often. How does it feel?

                          (smiling slightly)
                      Verdict's still out. Can I get back to

                      You make me sick, kid. Get out of here.

            FOSTER shuts the door.

            ROTH sips from his coffee, serious glint in his eye now.

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

            FOSTER crosses the newsroom. Midway across the room, he bumps
            into an intern, stops him. This is BILLY.

                      Hey, what's up, Graham?

                      Billy. Do me a favor and set me up with a
                      ticket to LAX, a.s.a.p.

            BILLY nods, runs off.

            Back at his desk:

            FOSTER notices the blinking light and lifts the phone.

                      Foster here.

                      Graham Foster?

                      Yes. What can I do for you?
                          (FOSTER is looking around the
                           room while he listens absently
                           for the caller to get to the
                           point. Briefly, we see the
                           various reporters and staff
                           people bustling obliviously
                           around the newsroom.)
            Back on FOSTER: 

                                GINA VO
                      We need to talk to you as soon as
                      possible. Like today.

            We see the expression of attentive curiosity on FOSTER. 

                      And what is this pertaining to?


                                GINA O.S.
                          (standing in the kitchen)
                      Um, I really can't say over the phone,
                      y'know? have to figure this
                      out on your own.

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

            FOSTER's eyes stray up to the wall of his cubicle. At the
            mugshot of GINA taped up there. It starts to dawn on him.

                      Well, how about if you give me a little
                      hint here.


            GINA is in a state of barely controlled breakdown, crying but
            somehow remaining coherent. 

                      I need you to come where we are...and
                      talk to us. It's about--

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

                      Hello?...Look, I'm assuming you're
                      worried about someone else listening. But
                      don't be, okay?


            GINA turns in the kitchen, hearing a noise from the other

                          (clutching the phone; softly)

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

            FOSTER just listens, dubious.


            GINA's expression registers shock.

                      Mommy! Please come back!

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY



            GINA is cemented to the floor, staring into the living room
            where JIMMY is seemingly passed out on the couch.  


            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

                      Gina, listen to me, honey...
                      Sit down, okay? I need you to listen to
                      me. (Beat) Are you sitting?


            GINA does not answer. She is frozen. Eyes wide; mouth agape.

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

                      I need you to relax now and concentrate
                      on what I'm saying. 
                          (He looks up and around the
                           room conspiratorially as he
                           speaks to her. Again, we see
                           the crowded newsroom, but now
                           the people are moving in slow
                           motion, still oblivious to
                           what is transpiring very close
                           to them.)
                      I've been wondering what happened to you.
                      I really, really want to help you. And I
                      can. No one else has to know about it. I
                      promise you that. Now, you said 'we' a
                      minute ago. Who else is there with you?

                                GINA VO

                          (almost smiling)
                      Jimmy. Rhodes? Jimmy Rhodes is there with


            Angle of JIMMY slumped on the couch. He is in his own trance
            at the moment.

            GINA is standing in the doorway.

                      Yeah. That's his name. I don't think he
                      can come to the phone right now, though.

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

                      Why not? Is he all right?

                                GINA VO
                      Who knows? He's in some kind of fucking
                      trance again.

                      Okay. Do you think you can go over to him
                      and try to talk to him? Tell him exactly
                      what I just told you about the

                                GINA VO
                      I can try. Hang on.

            During her absence from the phone, FOSTER hurriedly punches a
            button on his phone. 

                      Tell me you're getting this.

                                UNSEEN VO
                      They're somewhere in Colorado.

            FOSTER switches back. 


                          (picking the phone up again)
                      I can't. I don't think he can hear me.

                      Is he breathing?


                      Okay. He should be all right, but I want
                      you to try again after you hang up with
                      me. Will you do that? Now, you have to
                      tell me where you are if I'm going to be
                      able to help you.

                      Somebody's house. We're in the mountains
                      somewhere but I'm not even sure which
                      ones. There's a calender in the kitchen
                      with seven days marked out and nobody's
                      here, so I think we're okay.

                      What's the first day marked out?

                      Um, the tenth.


                                FOSTER VO
                      Good, today's only the twelfth so you
                      should be safe as long as the neighbors
                      don't see you. Stay away from the windows
                      and doors no matter what, okay? Don't
                      answer the phone...

                      Mister Foster, we know how to hide. What
                      we need are some fucking answers. I need
                      to know what the hell is happening!

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

            BILLY approaches FOSTER's desk, drops a ticket voucher in
            front of him, snatching FOSTER's concentration away from the

            FOSTER shakes his head abruptly, as though BILLY has secured
            the wrong ticket, even though he hasn't. FOSTER places a hand
            on BILLY's arm while he keeps GINA on the phone.

                      We've been in the woods for the last four
                      fucking days... 

                      Gina, please stay calm. If you lose it
                      now, the drug is going to get the better
                      of you. You have to relax yourself. I
                      swear I can help you but not unless you--

                      I have no clue where we are, I'm sick
                      every five minutes. Wait.

            GINA sets the phone down again.

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

                          (anxious that she has deserted
                      Gina? Gina? 
                          (to BILLY)
                      Forget it. The ticket's going to

                                GINA VO
                      We're at twenty-two Pine Crest. Twin
                      Lakes, Colorado. 


                          (staring at a pad with the name
                           and address)
                      They have stationary.

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

            We hear a yelling gibberish in the background.

                      Gina, is that Jimmy in the background?

                                GINA VO

                          (wiping a fine layer of sweat
                           from his brow)
                      Alright. Gina? I'm on my way. Just hang
                      in there, okay? Calling a doctor is not a
                      good idea under any circumstances. You
                      just have to hang in there until I can
                      get there. I'm leaving now for the
                      airport. Try and talk to Jimmy again and
                      tell him everything will be all right as
                      long as he can keep from thinking about
                      anything...disturbing. Okay?

                                GINA VO

                      Yeah, anything that might
                      be...depressing. You, too. You have to
                      relax. You're going to be safe as long as
                      you do what I say.


                      We're not safe, Mister Foster. We're not
                      anywhere near safe. Can you get us in
                      touch with one of those doctors? I saw
                      you on the news and you've talked to

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

                          (scribbling on his notepad. Go
                           to angle of what he is
                           writing: Twin Lakes, Colorado.
                      Gina, I can't guarantee anything but I
                      promise to do my best.

            FOSTER tears off the sheet of paper and stuffs it in BILLY's
            dubious hand. He pushes BILLY away as if he should fly like
            the wind.


                      All right. Thank you so much.

                                FOSTER VO
                      I'll see you soon, Gina. Be careful.

                      We will.

            She hangs up the phone.

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

                          (switching over to those
                           tapping the line)
                      Is she right about the address?

                                TAPPER'S VO
                      Right as rain.

            FOSTER drops the phone in it's cradle and sprints away from
            his desk, out of frame.

            EXT. MOTEL--DAY

            ANGUS stands on the corner of a street, eyeing...

            A sign for the (?) Motel, hourly rates available.

            On his right hand coming out of the pocket of his stolen
            fringe jacket, holding a folded sheaf of bills, a fifty on
            top. ANGUS walks toward the motel.


            On JIMMY. We hear the buzz. His eyes are open. He's feverish,
            shaking slightly, jumpy. 

            CU on a framed black-n-white picture on the wall. It is an
            old-looking tenement building in some inner city.

            JIMMY has a wild, wide-eyed, been-up-for-three-days-straight
            look in his eye. The eyes slowly close.

            Pan around to his POV, and we see the room has changed.


            He's now in his childhood apartment in Detroit. Television
            across the room rolling snow. Window and fire escape
            overlooking the gritty street. We continue to pan around
            behind JIMMY, and when we come around the other side, we
            realize he's sitting next to EDDIE, who's drinking a beer and
            smoking a cigar, perfectly at ease. 

            JIMMY's eyes are now open. He slowly turns his head and
            recognizes EDDIE, though his expression does not register any

                      Long time, No see, kid.(He offers the
                      beer). Have a sip? 

            JIMMY regards the can for a moment with the barest hint of
            concern, then takes it and drinks deeply. 

                      Been awhile, eh Jimmy? How you been
                      keepin' yourself?

                      I've been in jail, man.

                      No shit? What for, kid?

                      Armed robbery.

                      Don't worry about a thing, kid.
                      Everything will make a lot more sense
                      once we get going.

                      Where we going, Eddie?

                      Thought I'd like to take a little cruise
                      up by the lake. Care to go along?

            JIMMY says nothing, faces forward, away from EDDIE. Consider
            having him turn his head toward the window, where a city
            street scene is rolling by, as if they're moving.


            JIMMY's POV: heading east on Jefferson Avenue. Passing
            through the inner city. Interject the buzz. JIMMY looks down
            at his hands and sees a red tinge around his fingers.

                          (looking back up and out the
                      Eddie, man, you gotta tell me what's
                      goin' on.

                          (calm and relaxed, but ignoring
                           the question)
                      I gotta say, buddy, I'm surprised that
                      you remembered this ol' man a'tall.

                          (getting more frantic)
                      Eddie. Somethin's wrong, man.

            Various shots of weirdness: the sky racing by outside,
            passing images from the street, the buzz, end up on EDDIE

                      And we used to have us some good talks,
                      eh Jim?

            More scenes.

                      So how was Florida, Jim? Is it true what
                      they say about them southern women? 

            The streets are becoming more upkept; it's a more upscale
            neighborhood by far. Grosse Pointe.

                      Did you ever hear from my mom, Eddie?

                      Nah. I only know what you know, kid. 

            JIMMY looks to EDDIE and EDDIE is now sipping from a flask.

                      What I'd like to know, if you don't mind
                      my askin', did ya get what you went down
                      there for?

            Gradually, the City comes into view, but only vaguely, where
            Lake St. Clair should be.

                      Eddie! Stop the car!

                      Thought you might feel that way, Jimbo.

            With the car still rolling, JIMMY jumps out.

                      Whoa, boy! Mind if I get 'er in park

            JIMMY runs up the slight embankment and we follow him from
            behind. As we crest the embankment with him, the City (for
            the first time) comes into view in all it's glory.

            On JIMMY: astonished.

            Wider view of the scene: JIMMY is standing on the edge of an
            abyss that should be containing Lake St. Clair, but doesn't.

            Slowly, weakly, JIMMY sits down on the edge and dangles his

            Frontal shot: JIMMY sitting on the ledge. EDDIE is now behind

                      It's almost gone, Jimmy. Just as long as
                      you know that. (beat) Damn shame too. 


                      The time is close, son. Your time is
                      runnin' out. You want to get there before
                      it's too late, don't you?

                      How can I see it closer, Eddie?

                      I only know what you know, kid. I keep
                      tellin' you that.

                      What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

            EDDIE takes a seat on the grassy embankment, just behind

                      It means this is you, Jim, not me. I
                      can't tell you what's what in your own
                      head, me bein' a guest an' all. You know
                      what you gotta do.

                          (Turning to regard EDDIE
                      Eddie, goddamnit, I don't...

            Sound of fireworks. They are erupting over the City.
            Lightning crashes and JIMMY jumps slightly. All at once, he
            is sitting in a downpour. He turns to look over his shoulder.
            EDDIE and the car are gone. JIMMY goes back to staring at the
            City, uncaring.

            INT. AIRPORT 

            PELLOW crossing the airport baggage claim area, heading
            toward us.

            Before him stands DEPUTY LANKTON, from Fairplay, holding a
            sign that says Art Pellow on it. LANKTON has a stern, serious
            expression as PELLOW approaches.

                      That's me.

                          (breaking into a seemingly
                           uncharacteristic shit-eating
                      Nice to meet you, Detective. My name's
                      Dougie Lankton. I'm here to take you to

            INT. CONCOURSE

                      So what's new in Fairplay, Dougie?

                      Well, sir, good news. We may have your
                      killer kid by the time we get back to


                      That boy you're after, the one who
                      escaped from Capricorn. What's his name,

                          (as they board the moving
                      Angus? You found Angus?

            INT. AIRPORT--DAY

                      That's him.

                      Where did you find him?

                      Fairplay. Sumpthin' else, eh? 'Course, we
                      don't actually have him in custody yet.
                      He's holed up in Freda's diner with three
                      hostages but don't worry none. It'll
                      probably be a whole different story by
                      the time you and I show up. Our guys got
                      that ol' boy surrounded like Al Capone.


            GINA is staring at JIMMY, looking just as feverish as he
            does. She is somewhat sane by this point, however. Her face
            is tired, as though she has cried out every possible tear.
            Exhausted, her head droops down for a few seconds. A warm,
            somber greenish hue begins to emanate from something before
            her. She raises her head, seeing what it is, and begins to
            cry again, but now the tears are from shock and amazed

            INT. MOTEL--DAY

            Slow zoom across the room, going in on the open bathroom
            door. Through it we can see ANGUS in the bathtub, head back,
            eyes closed.

            Opening to slits, drowsy, then closing again.

            Shot of the motel room through the bathroom door, shadows and
            nothing moving.

            Back to ANGUS. His eyes are open again, and this time...

            ANGUS' POV: MISTER MADNESS is now standing over him, as if
            he's been there all along, a wicked grin on his face.
            Abruptly, his hand comes down toward ANGUS and covers our

                      Mr. No-name, I presume? At last we
                      finally meet.

            Black-gloved hand over ANGUS' face, he pushes his head
            against the tiles on the wall, hard.

                      So good to finally meet you, Mr. No-name.
                      My name is Mr. Madness, and I have come
                      to hurt you in every possible way I know

            With ANGUS struggling, MADNESS pushes him now beneath the
            surface of the water.

                      In fact, I take great pleasure in the
                      very thought of all the fun we're going
                      to have together. Now, what I want, if
                      you please, is plenty of screaming and
                      lots of fear. Can you do that for me, Mr.

            INT. WATER

            All at once under the surface of a body of water much deeper
            than the bathtub he was just in. His legs kick for a bottom
            that doesn't exist. His hands flail in terror. The water is

            Gradually, he stops, resigned. He looks around, confused.
            Bubbles blow out of his mouth as he realizes he can breath.
            He looks down.

            At the bottom of his vision is inky blackness.

            When his head comes back up, there is a giant fish's face
            beside him, hideous and damaged, like something mutant. As
            ANGUS discovers it, his body goes completely numb, and the
            fish's head rears up, exposing a human mouth opening to razor
            sharp teeth.

            INT. FREDA'S DINER--DUSK

            We open on the WOMAN, crouched in the corner of the diner by
            the jukebox. She is staring down at her own skirt with a
            vacant expression.

            FAT JACK WOJOKOWSKI is sitting on one of the stools at the
            counter. He is scared absolutely shitless.

            Go to a pair of legs, laying prone, half way through the
            kitchen doors.

            Go to LYNCH, sitting with a shotgun against another wall,
            slightly under the windows. He has something of an insane
            expression, definitely open to experimentation.
            Perhaps a slow zoom on him, so that the audience can soak in
            the full implications of this scene. The police think they
            have ANGUS inside. LYNCH risks a glance out the window.

            Shoot Main Street from his POV. Show a DEPUTY run from a
            parked car to one of the many trees. Show LYNCH's MOTHER or
            NIKKI run from one spot to another affording cover, as if
            everyone, real and unreal, is scurrying for a better shot at

            LYNCH ducks back down. We can hear the ominous buzz through
            the entire scene. On LYNCH...

                                FAT JACK

                          (looking to Fat Jack)

                                FAT JACK
                      You gonna let us out of here?

                      What's your name, man?

                                FAT JACK
                      Jack. Jack Wojokowski.

                      You got a family, Jack? A wife?

                                FAT JACK
                      Just a wife.

                      What's her name?


                      Well, don't ask me, Jack. You married

            Shot of JACK.

                      But seriously Jack, that's a beautiful
                      name for a woman, ain't it? I don't know.
                      Something about the name Marianne that
                      always turned me on. Maybe--

            We hear a scraping, sliding noise. It startles LYNCH and he
            hesitates only a second before scurrying along the wall under
            the windows. We follow him past everything in the diner, to
            the batwing doors going into the kitchen. There, he pauses
            again before looking down under them.

            LYNCH's POV: We see a pair of police-uniformed legs slipping
            in through the back door. 

            LYNCH aims the shotgun under the batwing doors.

            EXT. FREDA'S DINER--DUSK

            We hear the shotgun blast while looking over-the-shoulder of
            DEPUTY DAVEY WYSLER, and follow him as he leaves his spot
            behind the tree and starts running for the front door of
            Freda's diner. In the same shot, we see DEPUTY ROLAND HANSON
            meet him from a different vantage point to the right of the
            door. We hear another shotgun blast as they meet. They enter
            the diner in typical procedural fashion.

            INT. BATHROOM--DUSK

            ANGUS comes awake violently, thrashing in tepid bathwater
            that he is still sitting in. Naked, he scrambles out of the
            tub, sending his clothes and gun that are setting on the
            toilet seat scattering. Cowering in the corner, he regards
            the tub in complete distrust.

            Shot of the tub.

            Shot of the forty-five laying on top of his pants.

            ANGUS timidly reaches out for it, as if the thing might
            explode when he touches it. Picking it up, he eyeballs it for
            a minute in confusion, then back to...

            The tub. Foreboding and ominous, yet nothing more than a
            plain old bathtub.

            A noise out in the room itself is like cold water hitting his
            skin. A door slamming. He jumps, holding the forty-five at
            the ready, and listening. The next noise sounds like bed
            springs. When he hears it, he jumps again.

            Peering through the crack in the bathroom doorframe, his eyes
            (and our POV) sees SOPHIE, sitting squarely in the middle of
            the bed and looking back at him (us).

            CU on his bewildered, shocked expression as he lowers the

            INT. MOTEL ROOM--DUSK

            ANGUS walks out of the bathroom calmly, eyes glued to SOPHIE.

            SOPHIE returns his stare, angelic and serene. 

                      I missed you.

                      I missed you too, Angel.

            They embrace.

                      Don't be scared of that fish, baby. It's
                      not real. We'll find the others. We'll
                      find the others and then we'll be

            EXT. ALMA STREET--DUSK

            ANGUS and SOPHIE cross a street toward a bar with the neon
            sign HIGH MOUNTAIN PUB above the door.


            ANGUS pushes through the door alone (since SOPHIE only exists
            in his mind), to the sound of loud country music.

            He slides into a booth and rubs his eyes tiredly. 

                      Angel? Why were you sleeping in the

            ANGUS says nothing, looking at her.

                      What was in the bathtub, Angel?

                      Something that happened to me before.

                      Before what?

                          (deep, sobbing sigh, but
                           without tears)
                      When dad taught me how to swim. You

            SOPHIE closes her eyes, as if remembering the incident
            herself. Carefully, her brow furrows.

                      He threw you in the water and left you to
                      swim back for yourself.

            ANGUS nods.

                      He abandoned you to die.

            ANGUS nods again.

                      You thought sharks were going to eat you.
                          (she opens her eyes)
                      But it was only a lake.

            ANGUS looks at her.

                      I was five years old.

                      They're gone now, baby. Even Colin, and

            ANGUS stops her gently, weakly, placing a hand on her arm.


            ANGUS stops then, his attention caught by something across
            the room that we do not see.

            Even when we go to a wide angle of the place, all we see are
            people sitting at tables eating, talking, or laughing.
            Everyone seems oblivious to ANGUS.

            ANGUS faces SOPHIE again.

                      What is it, baby?

                          (looking just sad; defeated, as
                           if he can't get rid of the
                      They're over there.

            SOPHIE looks, but not with anxiety whatsoever.

            Show the crowd again.

                      No, they're not.

                      Sophie...All of them. Dad's got a hole in
                      his chest...

                      You killed them. They aren't here, Angel.

            Carefully, ANGUS pulls the forty-five out and lays it on the

                      You should go outside, baby. I'll be out
                      in a minute, okay?

            SOPHIE looks at him innocently. Then, she slides out of the
            booth and out of frame.

            INT. DINER--DUSK

            LYNCH flies out the back door of the diner, carrying the
            shotgun and moving in a mad hurry. We are following him from

            We see FAT JACK still sitting on the stool. The WOMAN starts
            screaming immediately. She stands and runs, straight toward
            the two POLICE.

            They let her go. WYSLER approaches FAT JACK.

                      You hear him go out, Jack?

            They all hear another shotgun blast outside, in back.

            WYSLER is passed by HANSON going through the batwing doors.
            On his way out, WYSLER yells

                      Say hello to the wife for me, Jack.

            EXT. DINER--DUSK

            Begin the scene with LANKTON and PELLOW showing up in a
            hurry. PELLOW starts running for the diner. LANKTON stays in
            the car and takes off up the street.

            EXT. TOWN STREET--DUSK

            LANKTON takes the corner to the right at the end of Main
            Street, in order to cut around behind the diner.


            LYNCH is running with everything, never dropping the shotgun.
            He cuts to his left, jumps a fence, and...


            LANKTON is cruising slower now, maybe thirty. Looking closely
            out his passenger window. After an extended beat, he looks
            out the right. That's when a body rolls over the hood.
            LANKTON instantly stands on the brakes.


            EXT. SIDE STREET--DUSK

            LANKTON scrambles out of the car. He is near two others, and
            a hedge bisecting two residential lawns. Dumbfounded, he is
            looking everywhere, and we follow through a POV shot. When it
            comes back around to his own squad car, LYNCH is behind the

            LYNCH waves, smiling deliriously.

            Then floors it, sirens still wailing the whole time, as
            LANKTON runs fruitlessly after, screaming unintelligibly.

            INT. POLICE CAR--DUSK

            LYNCH driving like mad, seething in panic, trying to keep it
            together long enough to save his own skin.

                                VO FEMALE DISPATCHER
                      Dougie Lankton, you answer me! Whoever
                      you guys are chasin' after...

            Hard right. Various exteriors of the police car racing
            through the streets of this small town scattered throughout.

            Interject a shot of LANKTON cursing, stomping his feet,
            calling in his fuck-up to the mike on his shoulder.

            Back to LYNCH: the police car screeches around the corner
            onto Main street and skids into cars parked along the curb.
            Somehow, it keeps moving.

                                VO FEMALE DISPATCHER
                      Whoever you guys are chasin' after, he
                      ain't the escaped pris'ner. Repeat! Your
                      man is over in Alma.

            LYNCH listens now. After a beat, he reaches down to the floor
            and fishes around for the CB receiver. He brings it up to his
            ear, listening but not saying anything.

                                VO FEMALE DISPATCHER 
                      He's wearin' a black buckskin jacket and
                      he just shot up a bar over in Alma. The
                      witnesses are saying he ran into the
                      woods. Dammit, Dougie, you there?

            LYNCH smiles.


            The police car skids to a stop on the shoulder. The
            "cherries" have been whirling the whole time.

            INT. POLICE CAR--DUSK

            LYNCH fishes around on the floor again, this time coming up
            with a thirty-eight in a holster. He unsnaps it, pulls it
            out, discards the holster. Jumps out of the car.


            Leans back in the window, stretches for the shotgun in it's
            holder, breaks it free, jams it in between the accelerator
            and the seat, drops the gear shift into drive, and pulls back
            as the car takes off without him, cherries still whirling.

            Over the shoulder: We watch, with LYNCH, as the car flies
            down the road, misses the curb, hits a tree, and explodes.

            LYNCH regards this with no expression, then disappears out of


            Wide angle of the front of the house where JIMMY and GINA
            were hiding until last night. There is now a green Datsun 
            parked right out front at the curb. FOSTER is inside.

            INT. DATSUN--DAWN

            FOSTER is staring at the front of the house. In his hand is a
            torn piece of envelope with the house's address. Back to
            FOSTER's POV of the house, and the address on the house. We
            see that they match. Meanwhile the radio is on, playing a


            FOSTER is walking up to the house. 

            INT. HOUSE--DAWN

            Through the same broken pane in the front door that GINA and
            JIMMY made to unlock the knob, FOSTER now peers. The place is
            obviously deserted.

            INT. DATSUN--DAWN

            FOSTER gets back in the car. Perplexed, FOSTER sits for a
            while pondering his next move. The volume on the radio is
            low, but we should be able to make out the news announcer
            going into a story that sounds like a newsflash. This catches
            FOSTER, and he turns the volume up.

                                RADIO ANNOUNCER VO
                      Authorities have not yet verified the
                      identity of the man who started the
                      shooting, but they have not ruled out the
                      possibility that the perpetrator might
                      have been one of the four recent escapees
                      from the Capricorn Medical Facility, just
                      outside of Leadville. When asked, the
                      Sheriff of Alma had this to say...


            The Datsun suddenly reverses out of frame with a squeal of


            We come down on the stolen Town Car, rolling through the

            INT. THE TOWNCAR--DAWN

            We see first JIMMY, then GINA, listening attentively to the
            same broadcast, except that their reception is fraught with

                                SHERIFF'S VO
                      No, we have not ruled out any options.
                      The shooter did fit the general
                      description of one of the convicts, he
                      did go haywire for no apparent reason,
                      and he apparently did not care who got in
                      front of his gun.


            We see PELLOW watch as the bodies are carried out on
            stretchers. There is no radio here, but we can still hear the
            radio ANNOUNCER, clear as day here.

                                RADIO ANNOUNCER'S VO
                      At that point, authorities refused to say
                      more about the victims involved in the
                      shooting, or their condition. Stay-tuned
                      to Denver's only twenty-four hour

            Show PELLOW's eyes close tiredly.

            INT. TOWN CAR--DAWN

                                RADIO ANNOUNCER'S VO
                      news, weather, and traffic station...

                      Find it somewhere else!

            JIMMY's hand bats away GINA's from the knob on the radio.

                                RADIO ANNOUNCER #2 VO
                      Witnesses at the scene reported a man
                      roughly six feet tall with a beard and
                      mustache, wearing a black buckskin jacket
                      and blue jeans. Several others reported
                      that the shooter...

            EXT. ALMA STREET--DUSK

            Angle of the High Mountain Pub, front. We hear screaming, we
            hear shooting, we hear loud music. After a few seconds of
            this, ANGUS comes walking out the front door, forty-five
            dangling at his side. His stride is purposeful, deliberate,
            but not hurried. No badass attitude. He walks down the
            sidewalk and out of frame. We linger only another second or
            two as the screaming and loud music continue.

            We follow ANGUS from behind. He crosses the street with the
            noise finally dimming out behind him. Eventually, as he walks
            down an intersecting street, the noise disappears completely.
            ANGUS reaches the corner, makes a right, and heads toward the
            woods a short distance further. We follow him into the brush.

            During this, the RADIO ANNOUNCER's VO continues.

                                RA VO
                      ...ran from the High Mountain Pub,
                      crossed Densmore Street, and disappeared
                      into the woods, heading in an easterly
                      direction. Sheriff Brady has informed us
                      that a search party is being formed for
                      the first time in twenty years in order
                      to apprehend him. But for now, residents
                      of Alma County's entire east side are
                      advised to keep their doors and windows
                      locked after dark. If you must go out,
                      Alma police urge you not to pick up
                      hitchhikers. The Alma police believe that
                      the shooter is still armed and extremely

            INT. TOWN CAR--DAY

            JIMMY and GINA are passing through rural farmland; could be
            anywhere in the midwest. JIMMY turns off the radio, sits back

                      He's one of us, you know.

                      He's not one of mine. He's one of the
                      stupid mutherfuckers, that's who he's one
                      of. His monkey-ass should have stayed out
                      of public places.

                      That's not what I mean. If he got that
                      nuts, why couldn't it happen to us, too?

                      We don't fucking know that the drug made
                      him do anything. Maybe he was already
                      nuts. We can keep our heads on straight
                      if we want to bad enough.

                          (staring out the window. After
                           a beat)
                      Goddamn--I can feel it coming, too.

                      What. You saw something that wasn't
                      really there...

                      Man, don't even try that on me. Is that
                      what happened to you? You were in a
                      trance for two fucking days, Jimmy!
                      (pause) My mother was sitting in front of
                      me! She was there. She was not some kind
                      of shimmering mirage. I felt her hair,
                      her dress, her think I
                      believed it myself? I had my arms around
                      her again, Jimmy. I had her and I lost
                      her again, anyway.

                      Did you talk to her? 

                      I asked her if she felt any pain.


                          (crying now)
                      She said, 'No, silly. How can I feel pain
                      when I don't have a body?' She told me
                      she could go anywhere. She could see
                      She understood everything, much better
                      than she had ever been able to when she
                      was alive. She can look at a living
                      person and understand everything they
                      will ever do before they do it. One time,
                      she stood on the top of the Empire State
                      Building and the banks of the Mississippi
                      in the same second. Isn't that something?
                      Can you imagine that?

            JIMMY eyes her; engaged but not sure what to say.

                      I have to think about something else for
                      a while. Where is this city you kept
                      moaning about?

                      It doesn't really exist. It's always been
                      in my dreams, a city that I've been
                      seeing since before I left home. A really
                      wierd-looking city.

                      Like what kind of weird?

                      It always looks different; sometimes
                      really lit up and sometimes really dark,
                      like a city in black-out. And really old
                      looking. From another dimension, or
                      I have never been able to see this place
                      from the inside. I'm always standing on
                      some cliff or mountainside, looking at it
                      and wishing like hell that I could just
                      walk down into it. Have a look around,

            GINA is looking at him, attentive, and totally oblivious to
            her own situation for the time being.

                      So what stops you?

                      Well, there's always some reason I can't
                      get close enough. It's a fucked

                          (distant; maybe seeing it
                      That's what you saw last night?

            EXT. SMALL TOWN--DAY

                      Last night it was different from any
                      other time.
                      I always knew before, in the back of my
                      mind, that I was in the middle of some
                      dream. Last night I was really standing
                      there, right in front of it all.

                      It's what they shot into us. This has to
                      ride out. We just have to wait.

                      And what if it doesn't?

                          (convincing herself)
                      We just have to be strong for awhile.

            INT./EXT. TOWN CAR--DAY

            They are passing by a rural setting.

                      Tell me what the reporter said again.

                      He called it hallucinations. Man, I think
                      we should have stayed and heard what he
                      had to say. All the people he'd talked to
                      about this, he's gotta know something

                      Look, you want to start trustin' people
                      right now, you go right ahead. I ain't
                      with you on that. You start trustin',
                      you're gonna end up back inside. All it
                      takes is one fuckup and what happens to
                      us could even be worse than the joint

                      What could be worse?

                      I mean you and me, and those other two,
                      are not just a bunch of lucky dipshits.
                      We were supposed to be part of something
                      else that they probably didn't plan on
                      putting in the newspapers. We were not
                      supposed to get away, Gina. Who knows
                      what the hell they'll do if they catch

            INT./EXT. TOWN CAR--DAY

            They are passing by a scenic lake.

                      You think we should stop somewhere? You
                      look like a pass-out waiting to happen.

                      You're kidding, right?

                      No, I ain't kidding. We should ditch this
                      car anyhow, shouldn't we?

                      No. We keep moving, as fast and as far as
                      we can go. Probably all the way to
                      Canada. If we're lucky, they didn't
                      figure out this car was stolen before
                      this morning. 

                          (smiling a little now)
                      You know who you sound like?


                      You sound like Humphrey Bogart, talkin'
                      about makin' it to the border. They ever
                      show you those in the joint?

                      Sure. The Maltese Falcon, shit like that.
                      I love 'em. Made me proud to be a bad

                          (eyeing him as though he may
                           not be)
                      What did they have you for?

                      Armed robbery. Assault with a deadly

                      Who'd you shoot?


            We are JIMMY's POV, sprinting out of Coleman's Party-Mart as
            VO continues. He crosses the street, vaults a wooden fence
            between seedy establishments.

                                JIMMY VO
                      Nobody. I hit a guy over the back of the
                      head when he tried to walk up on me,
                      while I was robbin' the place. It was me
                      that got shot at. How 'bout you?

            EXT./INT. TOWN CAR--DAY

            They are passing by a small town cemetary.

                      Oh, I was innocent. My boyfriend was
                      mixed up with dealing drugs and didn't
                      bother to tell me. 


            Show the Suburban zigzagging down the street, people leaping
            out of the way. Follow it a bit, then go inside.

            INT. SUBURBAN--DAY

            GINA is crying hysterically, but somehow driving. FOLEY has a
            gun in her throat.

                      Fucking drive, bitch! Look out! Fucking

                                GINA VO
                      We were at this bar in Venice Beach and
                      Joel managed to get himself shot. His
                      buddy made me the getaway driver. The
                      cops were there, and I ran one over.

            JIMMY says nothing, listening.

                      It was an accident. I didn't want to do
                      it. He was out in the street trying to
                      shoot at me! Foley had a fucking gun
                      pointed at my head. He didn't ask me if I
                      felt like doing it.

                      We always do, don't we? Have guns pointed
                      at our heads?

                      What. You mean criminals?

                      Yeah. I mean, I never would have robbed
                      that place unless I had no other choice.
                      I was fucking dying out there. At the
                      time, I thought it'd be better to give it
                      a try and fail then just stand there and
                      die. I didn't feel like I had any choices
                      either, y'know?

                      Yeah. But at least you knew what you were
                      getting into. I didn't. I had no idea
                      what was going on 'til I was right in the
                      middle of it.

                      But you still found out, didn't you.

                      Found out what?

                      That the system don't give two shits
                      about you, sister, or whether you knew
                      what was going on or didn't.
                      All it sees is what you did, not why you
                      did it. That shit about innocent until
                      proven guilty? You found out the real
                      deal on that, didn't you.

                      Y'know, speaking of Humphrey Bogart, I've
                      always wanted to be in the movies myself.


                      Still going to be, too. I'm just as good
                      as any of them.

                      How are you going to do that, being a

                      I'll find a way, mutherfucker. It ain't
                      ever over till it's over.

            EXT./INT. TOWN CAR/--DAY

                      We can go up to Canada. We'll get you
                      reconstructive surgery, make you into a
                      Canadian, and you can be a star up there.

            GINA smirks, as if his words aren't worth addressing.

            JIMMY's expression lights up with a new idea.

                      That's what the fuck we'll do.

                      You're gonna find a plastic surgeon in

                          (looking at her)
                      It's a goal, ain't it. You need goals in
                      life. Simple.
                          (POV: another anonymous small
                           town somewhere in the mid
                      We find a doctor. Then we each cover him
                      while the other's getting fixed.

            EXT. SMALL TOWN--DAY

            GINA bursts out laughing.


            Start in on PELLOW, who stands in the middle of the High
            Mountain Pub surveying the aftermath of ANGUS' shooting
            spree. He is standing next to another deputy, this one named


            FOSTER's Datsun pulls up to the curb outside, behind two
            squad cars and a white mini-van already parked. FOSTER
            eyeballs the place for a second.


            PELLOW is exchanging brief dialogue with the coroner's
            PHOTOGRAPHER when FOSTER walks in through the front door.
            BOYLE, the assisting Deputy, is off examining the wall.
            FOSTER is halfway to PELLOW before PELLOW notices him out of
            his peripheral and turns, with an annoyed expression at
            BOYLE's turned back and a quizzical expression at FOSTER.

                          (offering his hand)
                      Excuse me, Detective. My name's Graham
                      Foster of the Washington Post.

            PELLOW just looks at him.

                      It's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.
                      I'm covering the Truth story. You're the
                      one who bagged Angus in New Orleans,

            PELLOW takes the offered handshake, with another annoyed
            expression in BOYLE's direction. BOYLE still isn't paying

                      I'm sorry, Mr. Foster. But I'm not at
                      liberty to comment on anything yet. 

                      Okay. Then let me tell you something. Ten
                      hours ago, I received a phone call from
                      Gina Mayfield. She was hiding in a house
                      in Twin Lakes with Jimmy Rhodes. All I
                      want is an honest swap.

                          (thinking through a thick glare
                           at Foster)
                      Okay, whoa, what are you talking about?

                      You're looking for Jimmy and Gina too,
                      aren't you?

                          (quizzical stare)
                      Mister Foster, if you have any
                      information, I suggest you share or
                      you're looking at a charge of aiding and

                      Detective, they're sources--

                      No, they're fugitives, Mr. Foster. If you
                      know the whereabouts of two escaped
                      felons, I suggest you spill and that's
                      the last warning.

                          (silent for a beat)
                      They're already gone. I was just up there
                      an hour ago.

                          (slightly exasperated)
                      Then what the hell are we talking about?
                      What kind of game you playing?

                      I'm not. They were gone by the time I got
                      there. But how far could they have

                          (condescending shake of the
                      In ten hours, Mr. Foster, they could be
                      halfway around the planet. (To BOYLE)
                      Excuse me, Deputy, if you're not too

                      I have a good hunch where Gina might be

                      And where's that?

                      Well, she was having some kind of
                      hallucination that her mother was
                      standing there in the room with her. I
                      think she might very well try and return
                      to South Dakota.

                          (apparently thinking about it
                      Okay, let me be the cop now, Mr. Foster.
                      Out, please.

                          (almost turning to go)
                      Wait a minute. You don't give a shit, do

                      Boyle! Front and center! Get him out of

            Scene ends with PELLOW jotting down FOSTER's plate number.


            We see MELVIN and MARGUERITE DUPREE, an elderly couple on
            vacation. They are getting into their late model station
            wagon, bickering to each other.

                      I don't care.

                      Well, I'm only saying..

            LYNCH comes up behind MELVIN fast, poking the gun in his

                      Take me to California or die right here.

            Flash of MARGUERITE in shock.

            LYNCH is escorting MELVIN into the front seat.


            They're driving. Some amount of time has passed. 

                      Hey, mom. What's your name?

                          (hesitating a beat)

                      How 'bout you, pop?

                      Melvin. Melvin Dupree.

                      Melvin and Marguerite. Nice names. Where
                      you from, Melvin and Marguerite?

                      Green River, Utah.

                      Utah, huh? Sounds boring. What's in Green
                      River, Melvin?

                      Not a whole lot.

                      So what brings you out here to the
                      mountains? Grandkids, I bet. Am I right?

                      You got it, kid.

            For a beat or two we watch LYNCH's disposition turn from
            somewhat amiable, to downright pissed off.

                      So, Melvin. Why is it that old farts like
                      yourself always call younger people
                      'kids' like they're garbage or something.
                      Can you explain that one to me, Mel? I'd
                      really like to know what exactly makes
                      you ancient assholes think you're better
                      than everyone else just because you've
                      been here longer?

                      I didn't mean--

            LYNCH puts the gun in his throat.

                      Why is it that somebody who makes it to
                      such a frail old age thinks they can
                      treat everybody else any fucking way they
                      choose? I'm holding your fucking life in
                      my hands, and you have the balls to
                      disrespect me? 

                      He didn't mean--

                      Mom, shut the fuck up or I'm gonna put a
                      bullet right in your fucking head! 
                          (to MELVIN)
                      Old man, I'm talking to you. Why don't
                      you answer me? Why is it that the older
                      and more worthless you get, the more you
                      feel like you're better than everyone

                      I don't. I only called you that 'cause I
                      don't know your name. I won't call you
                      kid again, I swear.

            LYNCH appears to be calming down. Until he sees something
            through the windshield.

            LYNCH's POV: Through the glass, we see a billboard on the
            freeway that says: Do it, Lynch. Join the Bad Ass Club Today.

            LYNCH clamps his eyes shut. We hear gunshots and go to black.


            EXT. HIGHWAY--DAY

            We see LYNCH staggering along the shoulder of a freeway in
            the middle of the Rocky Mountain foothills. When he turns
            toward us, crossing the deserted freeway, we see he has blood
            running down his face.

            We see a truckstop through the trees that line the freeway.
            There are two semi's gassing up.

            LYNCH proceeds, we cut to watching him casing the situation
            from the treeline. He notices he has blood on his face and
            wipes it off with the inside of his jacket.

            LYNCH's POV: one of the semi's, finished, rolls away out of
            frame. LYNCH staggers into view. We watch him proceed out of
            the camera, from behind, as he makes his way toward the truck
            stop and the eighteen-wheeler that is gassing up. He is
            obviously exhausted and his clothes are slightly torn in

            From afar, we watch him approach FERRIS, who is just climbing
            back into his cab. They exchange words, then LYNCH proceeds
            to the other side of the truck and climbs in while FERRIS
            gets behind the wheel. A couple seconds later, the truck
            rumbles forward and turns out toward the highway.

            EXT. THE TRUCK STOP--DAY

            The bathroom on the side of the truck stop. The door opens
            and we see, from knee-height, a pair of scruffily-clad legs
            and worn-sandaled feet step out.

            Back to LYNCH:Inside the semi, he turns to look out the
            passenger window with a curious expression, as if he's not
            quite sure what's making him look. Through alternating shots,
            we see his expression as he notices the man who has come out
            of the bathroom; the HEALER himself, who looks like a crazy,
            mountain bandit. Then back to LYNCH, with an enraptured stare
            of curiosity and disbelief.

            The HEALER waves, then nods in appreciation.

            New angle of LYNCH, watching as...

            The HEALER disappears from his place outside the bathroom,
            reappearing next to the payphones across the parking lot. As
            LYNCH watches, the HEALER, from afar, cackles madly and
            mockingly points at LYNCH.

            EXT. WOODS--DAY

            We follow ANGUS from in front as he meanders through the
            forest, in no particular hurry. From his slightly staggering
            pace, we get the impression he's tired, weak, lost, resigned.
            He appears to be alone.

            We cut to SOPHIE, tracking her from the front as she leads

            ANGUS' POV: He sees SOPHIE walking hand in hand with
            MCGREGOR, the two chatting too quietly for him to adequately

            Angle of ANGUS, watching with a fearful expression. He
            understands by this point that he cannot trust his own eyes.

            ANGUS' POV: SOPHIE abruptly bolts ahead, enthusiastic, and
            disappears into the foliage. MCGREGOR has disappeared.

            ANGUS is momentarily uneasy about her disappearance, but too
            exhausted to freak out. Weakly, he calls out her name. Behind
            him, just for a flash, we see MCGREGOR come and go between
            the trees. We follow as ANGUS pushes through the same
            foliage, into a dense orchard or stand of trees.

            For a moment, we follow him through this. He falls over an
            obstacle at least once. We follow him from the front as well,
            noting his sadly displaced anxiety. It seems he's been
            deserted, even though this is nothing new to him.

            Finally, he pushes out of the orchard and into a cleared
            stretch of riverside beach. As he's coming out into the open,
            he sees almost at once, expressing stunned silence...

            SOPHIE standing on the opposite bank of the river. Beyond
            her, set inside a semi-circle clearing surrounded by forest,
            is an ancient-looking, plantation-style mansion, with white
            pillars sustaining the upper-story veranda, and a blazing,
            ethereal glow coming out of every window.

            ANGUS just stares.

            SOPHIE beckons him to cross the river and join her.

            ANGUS gazes down at the river rushing by him, and slowly
            closes his eyes.

            When he re-opens them, we show his POV.

            He is standing beside SOPHIE, who he looks down to see
            smiling up at him. Begin the buzz.

            A wide-angle from his original spot across the river reveals
            him to be standing now on the huge porch of the mansion,
            absolutely alone.

            He looks down at himself and sees that he is soaking wet from
            the waist down. Nonplussed, he takes hold of SOPHIE's hand
            and she reaches out to push one of the two massive doors
            open. The light seems to instantly absorb them both.

            INT. HOTEL--DAY

            We watch as ANGUS wanders into a brilliantly-lit ground
            floor. He sees a vast, winding staircase that ascends into
            light-shrouded heights. He sees a back wall of glass that
            overlooks an enormous back yard (mysteriously devoid of trees
            despite the fact that they're in the middle of the
            wilderness). He hears a variety of sounds: voices speaking in
            overlapping dialogue, wailing, the drug-induced buzz,
            inexplicable other noises.
            Eventually, he sees SOPHIE run out of the light on the other
            side of the room, cross in front of the windows, and
            disappear behind the staircase. 

            This makes him smile, albeit somewhat nervously.

            We see a hand come down gently on his shoulder, as if someone
            is standing right behind him. But when he spins around...

            REGINALD is standing a good ten or fifteen feet away.
            REGINALD's lips begin to move, but the dialogue is spoken in
            the voice of SOPHIE or perhaps one of the others, or perhaps
            amplified, as if coming from someone who's standing two
            inches away. As the exchange between REGINALD and ANGUS
            ensues, more alters come out of the light next to REGINALD.

            On ANGUS as more alters still come out of the light from
            behind him. Eventually, he's surrounded.

                      You're finally here.

            REGINALD and ANGUS embrace.

            They pull apart and ANGUS regards them all with mixed
            emotions for a beat. Behind him, more alters are coming out
            of the light.

            From out of the light to ANGUS' right, SOPHIE runs at him,
            laughing gleefully.

            ANGUS takes her into his arms.

                      I love you, Angus. Welcome home, baby.

                      There's others, Angus. Not all the way,
                      like us, but they  might be someday.
                      You'll meet them later.


                      Just voices for now, with some thoughts
                      of their own, and some pain. But they're
                      not important right now. What is
                      important is that mutherfucker in the


                      You'll know him. You'll know us all
                      before too long.

                      Where am I?

                      This is the hotel, son. The place that
                      you and McGregor built in 
                          (thoughtful beat)
                      Sessions 34-62.

                      It wasn't me.

                      Ah, you just don't remember. Actually,
                      Robert and me had more to do with it.
                      You've been gone for quite some time now
                      and we've been handling things for you.
                      But now, you've come back to make things

                      I don't--

                      You will. We're all going to help you put
                      it back in place, back where it belongs.
                      And the first item of business is the
                      Beast. The one who won't let you loose.
                      Remember yet? The Beast, Angus. The one
                      who made you do all those things. The one
                      who has everyone after you now. We have
                      to take care of him or nothing will ever
                      be good--or clear. You have to take care
                      of him, Angus.

                      I don't know how. 

                      He's there. Back where we were all born.
                      And he's still pulling all the strings. 
                          (Leaning in with a grim look in
                           his eye)
                      Angus. We're all going back to our home,
                      and we're all going to put things right.
                      That mutherfucker cannot live with us
                      anymore. Now, (stepping back to address
                      the rest), Everybody! Let's go!


            JIMMY and GINA are sitting in their Town Car at the curb
            outside of a ramshackle bar on a dusty noon-day street. Their
            is no name on the place, just a Corona sign.

                      Alright. Wait here and I'll be out in
                      five minutes, ten at the most. Do not get
                      out. Do not go anywhere. Just stay put.
                      All right? I'm gonna try and get us a
                      ride, or some directions to a good
                      freeway goin' up north.

            GINA nods, not answering.

            JIMMY steps out of the car and makes his way across the
            street and into the bar.

            INT. REDNECK BAR--DAY

            JIMMY makes his way through the dingy surroundings, past the
            few patrons, to a booth at the back of the room, where he
            sits, trying to relax and calm down for a moment. When he
            looks up, he sees a young REDNECK, watching him back with a
            mischievous smile across his lips. After a further stare-back
            from JIMMY, we go to the REDNECK and watch him slip off his
            stool at the bar and walk over.

            The REDNECK slides into the booth across from JIMMY.

            JIMMY eyeballs him back with no expression, and no fear.


                      You look like you got problems, pard. You
                      lookin' like you slept under a bus, and
                      then it ran over you.


            GINA waits in the car for JIMMY, yawning, exhausted, yet
            wired. She turns back the key in the ignition and turns on
            the radio. Flipping through the stations, she finds many odd
            bits of noise but nothing exciting. She is leaning her head
            in her hand on the open window when she notices... 

            The newspaper rack.  

            She lays a hand on the door handle and opening the door.

            INT. REDNECK BAR--DAY

                      You the greeting committee?

                      You could say that. Really, I just sit
                      around this bar and wait for tourists to
                      come in lookin' for stuff. You know?
                      Like, whatever. You know?

                      What about directions?

                      Whatever, man. Where to?


                      Yeah. I know where Canada is. Unless it
                      moved. What you need is a map.

                      No money.

                      No problem.

            The REDNECK reaches into his vest, smiling. 

            JIMMY tenses.

            EXT. THE TOWN  STREET--DAY

            Back to GINA, who approaches the newspaper rack. She feeds it
            a quarter and opens the door. She freezes. She reads the
            headline inside. 

            GINA turns and runs for the car.

            INT. REDNECK BAR--DAY

                          (his hand inside his vest)
                      I tell you what. You come with me to the
                      police station, and with the reward
                      money, I'll buy you a map. How's that?

            JIMMY throws his coffee into the REDNECK's face. As the
            REDNECK screams, JIMMY slams the table into the REDNECK's arm
            just as it comes out holding the Saturday Night Special. The
            gun discharges and blows the REDNECK's head all over the
            wall. JIMMY is floored by what he's just done, but gets up
            and runs past the handful of shocked PATRONS who are there.
            We follow him in a continuous shot as he makes for the door.


            JIMMY comes barrelling out onto the sidewalk at top speed.

            GINA and the car are both gone, taking off down the road in a
            trail of dust.

            JIMMY barely spends a glance in each direction before
            discovering the coin laundry right next door. When he does,
            he flees into it.

            Two seconds later, the PATRONS of the bar come bursting out,
            looking in each direction. They split up and take off in
            either direction.

            INT. COIN LAUNDRY--DAY

            JIMMY, (with us following), hauls ass to the back of the coin
            laundry, past two stunned, fat WOMEN, and their respective
            gaggles of CHILDREN. He continues out the back door and into
            the alley behind.

            EXT. ALLEY--DAY

            In the alley, he looks both ways again. There is a row of
            dilapidated sheds running alongside the alley, parallel to
            the buildings they service. In places, there is a high, but
            equally dilapidated, wood fence running between them.
            Pausing, JIMMY peers through the slats and we (with him)

            The Town shimmering down in the valley like a mirage.

            JIMMY cannot scale this fence, perhaps because it won't
            support his weight, or is topped in barbed wire. He continues
            to run down the alley.

            INT. SHED--DAY

            Looking out at the alley from inside one shed in particular,
            we see JIMMY hurry past (not running), glancing in quickly on
            the way. Two seconds later, he returns to the open door of
            this shed and looks in (at us) in rapt attention.

                      Well, son. You figured this thing out,

                      Eddie. They got a fucking price on my
                      head, man.

                      Come on. It's time to go.


            ANGUS is sitting on the living room divan, eyes closed. Begin
            the buzz, also a mixture of indecipherable voices. Perhaps
            they rise in intensity. Gradually, ANGUS' eyes open, glazed
            and disoriented, but not necessarily uncomfortable. Remember,
            he's used to feeling disoriented. Abruptly, the cacophony

                      No. Please, not again.

            ANGUS is left with only the buzzing sound. After a beat,
            SOPHIE's voice gently supersedes it, then it recedes. She is
            beckoning to him from somewhere behind him. He turns to place
            her whereabouts.

            But nothing meets his POV except the raised foyer and the
            hallways branching off to the right and left of it.

                           SOPHIE VO
                      Welcome, Angel. 

                           COLONEL VO
                      Welcome home, son.


            While we watch the foyer, we hear the muffled thumping of a
            child's footsteps.


            ANGUS, after turning to see if she is nearby and realizing
            she isn't, stands and heads toward the raised foyer at the
            front of the house.

            ANGUS looks down the hallway. He waits, unsure, then
            proceeds, walking close to the wall. The cacophony comes and

            Following ANGUS: We see where he's headed. Perhaps there's a
            portrait of the entire family hanging at the end of it. While
            he stands regarding it for a second, the POV behind him
            suddenly speeds up, approaching his turned back.

            ANGUS spins around, just in time to catch SOPHIE running at
            his leg.


                      Sophie, are we really home?

                      Home, yes.

                      Where are the others?


                      Father and Mother?

                      All of them, baby. They're all here.

                      I'm afraid.

                      I know, Angel. That's why I'm here.
                      That's why I'm always here.

                      Where are the others? 

                          (comforting him)
                      They're always here, too. Angel, we go
                      wherever you go.

                          (looking toward the bedrooms)
                      They're alive, aren't they. 

            SOPHIE leads ANGUS down the hallway in answer. 

            ANGUS pulls the gun out of his waistband at the small of his

                          (without having seen it)
                      Leave that, Angel. You can't use that

            ANGUS is so unnerved by this that he sinks to his knees along
            the wall, slipping down into a quivering mess. SOPHIE
            crouches to comfort him.

                                FATHER'S VO
                      ANGEL! Do you hear me calling you? I said
                      get in here now, Angel. And that's an

                      Sophie, we have to get out of here. We
                      have to go now!

            As he looks up through tears to regard her...

            SOPHIE begins to fade before his eyes. 

                      Sophie, please come back...

            EXT. WOODS--DAY

            We follow FOSTER through the woods, much like we did Angus
            and Sophie. At the point where the land descends into the
            orchard, FOSTER stops, breathing heavily and sweating
            profusely. For a beat, he exhales tiredly and starts forward
            again, only to be stopped once more, this time by his ringing


            Another noise makes ANGUS forget SOPHIE momentarily and spin
            around to face the bedrooms again.

                      Who's there?

            ANGUS turns to regard the opening of the hallway, where he
            started. From out of the shadows steps ROBERT, smiling.

                      Robert! My god, help me!

            ROBERT approaches, soon standing right over ANGUS.

                      Stand up, Angus. 

                      Robert, why did she leave? 

            ROBERT lends a hand down.

                      You have stuff to do, son. It's not going
                      to do itself.

                      The parent's are here.

                      I know.

                      But I killed them, didn't I? 

            ROBERT nods.

                      Are they still dead? 

            ROBERT leads ANGUS like SOPHIE did. At the end of the
            hallway, ROBERT speaks again.

                      The parents first. You know what you have
                      to do.

                          (near panic)
                      No, I don't.

                      You have to give them back all that love
                      they never gave you, kid. Love, Angus.
                      You have to give them love.

            ANGUS finally regards his Caretaker face to face.

                      But I already killed them.

            The voice that comes out of ROBERT's mouth is not ROBERT's,
            but something more raspy and malevolent.

                      Killin's not it, son. The other one does
                      that. You're not he. He was put there.
                      You have to forgive yourself. You have to
                      convince yourself that you are not the
                      monster. It's a chain, Angus. It's been
                      goin' on for generations. Your father,
                      your mother, their fathers and mothers.
                      And their monsters were put there by
                      others. Put them all to rest with this.

            ANGUS sees blood begin to seep out from under the door.

                      Can't, I don't know...

                      Open the door, Angus. You face them.

            EXT. WOODS--DAY

            FOSTER is walking through the woods, in the midst of a cell
            phone conversation.

                      Yeah, Roth.
                          (silence, turning first
                           perplexed, then disturbed)
                      When did it happen, Sid?...Nothing, he
                      agreed to meet with me today at five. I
                      had to leave it to meet Gina and
                      Jimmy...And they ditched me. I guess they
                      got scared, who knows? But I got lucky,
                      I'm onto Angus now. What...what put
                      Tuttle up on that roof, Sid? I mean, he
                      was one of the survivors of this thing,
                      for Christ's sake.

            INT. ROTH'S OFFICE--DAY

                      I don't know what to tell you, Graham.
                      Whatever this drug is, it doesn't look
                      like anyone who takes it is really meant
                      to walk away. If you do catch up to this
                      Angus character, or any of them, I
                      suggest you cover yourself. Whatever this
                      drug is making him feel, or see, or
                      whatever, I doubt it's making him a more
                      friendly individual.

            EXT. WOODS--DAY

                      Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to
                      me before I write this story.

            INT. ROTH'S OFFICE--DAY

                      Graham, listen, forget about Tuttle. You
                      can still bring home the story of the
                      century here. The country is reading with
                      rapt attention. The Justice Department
                      has no way to shut this off. We've got
                      them, Graham. We haven't had this kind of
                      readership in twenty years, my friend. 

            EXT. WOODS--DAY

                      Right. Eat your heart out, Nixon. Talk to
                      you later, Sid.

            FOSTER closes the phone. By the time he's finished, he has
            made it through the orchard and is standing by the river on
            the other side. He takes in his surroundings: the river, the
            horseshoe clearing across the river, the path of the river in
            either direction, and the surrounding forests.

            He kneels by the river and washes himself.


            ANGUS is standing in the chamber that connects the bedrooms,
            ROBERT beside him.

                      None of us can help you. What caused this
                      thing in the first place? It's down there
                      deep but you can find it. Your parent's
                      sickness wants you. Their parent's wanted
                      them. You have to kill it again, but not
                      the same way as before. Not the way that
                      the Beast did it. It won in the end, son.
                      The Beast won, and the Beast put you
                      where you are today.

                      Robert, I'm too...

                      Do it, Angus. Do it now.


            In a slow pan, we realize ANGUS is also there with FOSTER,
            presumably watching him. The camera moves behind and past
            ANGUS, showing an oblivious FOSTER washing himself just
            beyond the river.


            FOSTER finally looks up, sees ANGUS, and freezes. 


            Shot of ANGUS' hand enclosing the doorknob.

            Once more ANGUS sinks to the floor, unable to open the door
            of his parent's bedroom.

            EXT. WOODS--DAY

            FOSTER steels himself and steps into the river, obviously


            ANGUS' leans against the door, barely standing, pushes open
            the door and walks into reality. 

            EXT. WOODS--DAY

            FOSTER climbs up onto ANGUS' side of the river and approaches
            cautiously. FOSTER gradually realizes that ANGUS is in a
            trance and isn't actually seeing him. FOSTER notices a fallen
            tree nearby and takes a seat on it. 

            ANGUS visibly returns to a kind of toughened consciousness.
            His eyes fall on FOSTER.

                      Who are you?

                      My name's Graham. What's yours?

                      Why are you in my parent's bedroom?

                          (a beat)
                      I'm here to help you. If you'll let me.

                      Where are my parents?

                      I don't know.

                      Why are you here?

                      To help you. Why don't you come over here
                      and sit down for awhile.

            ANGUS, amazingly, does exactly what he's told. 

            FOSTER cautiously reaches into the pocket of his shirt, where
            the tape recorder is hidden. He turns it on. Note: Perhaps it
            shouldn't be an obvious gesture. Only the audience paying
            attention will catch it.

                      What's your name?

            No answer from ANGUS.

                      I'll bet your name is Angus.

            ANGUS quietly nods yes. 

                      Nice to meet you, Angus. Did you say you
                      were looking for your parents?

                          (poss. remorseful)
                      Yeah. This is their bedroom.

                      What does it look like, Angus?

            ANGUS brings the gun up gently, almost absently, and rests it
            across his knee, aiming it away un-threateningly. Of course,
            the gesture has a more stirring effect on FOSTER.

                          (his eyes show that he is in
                           the room)
                      Blood everywhere.
                      On the floor, the doors, the bed. There's
                      even blood on you. Must have rubbed
                      against something, huh?

                      Yeah, I guess so. (a beat) Can I see your

                          (no answer at first; then
                           vacantly, as if he's listening
                           to someone he's totally
                           familiar with)
                      A friend of mine would like to know

                          (trying to follow)
                      A friend?

                          (poss. the first stirrings of
                           an angry mood swing)
                      What does it mean to love?

                      Um, is caring for somebody
                      very much, I guess. Wanting to help them
                      out, take care of them...

                      So you want to help Angus? 
                          (eyes change, poss. blinking,
                           i.e. pers. change)
                      Does that mean you love me?

                          (stunned, but barely not
                           showing it)
                      Uh, sure. Yeah, I want to help you, if
                      you'll help me. Why don't you let me see
                      the gun?

                          (finally looking him full in
                           the face)
                      You want to take it, don't you?

                      Not unless you want to give it to me.

                          (further stirrings)
                      I can't. I need it.


                      There are others out here.
                          (on FOSTER)
                      I've seen them following me for days now. 
                          (On ANGUS)
                      They were in the bar last night. And now
                      there are new people I've never seen
                      before. I'm not sure who's real and who's

                          (knowing, but making himself
                           ask the question)

                          (sick fear now)
                      My parents. My father.

                          (glancing down at the gun)
                      Is that who you're going to shoot?

                          (looking at FOSTER again)
                      It doesn't do any good. He comes back in
                      different ways. Over and over. Every
                      place I go, I can feel them right behind
                      me. Just out of your peripheral vision,
                      just out of sight every time you turn
                      around. They never forget about us, they
                      never...they never go away. 
                          (poss. go to the actual scene:
                           Show ANGUS sitting in the
                           booth, staring at "us" in
                           fear. Show the crowd, but you
                           don't necessarily have to show
                           the apparition. Continue in
                      Last night, he screamed at me, from
                      across a crowded room, 'I'll never forget
                      you, Angel, and we'll never forgive you!'
                      And then he was coming toward me, in
                      between the tables and all the people,
                      with nobody seeing him but me and
                          (Back on ANGUS in the present)
                      he had a huge hole in the center of his
                          (ANGUS trails off into tears;
                           go to FOSTER)

            EXT. WOODS--DAY

            FOSTER regards ANGUS, who has broken down into pitiful,
            silent mourning by now.

                          (first shades of a different
                      Will you give me the gun?

            Consider simply staying with ANGUS broken down, helpless,

                      There's others besides your father
                      looking for you out here.
                      I can get you out but not if I think
                      you're gonna shoot me the second I turn

            ANGUS looks at him, not used to being spoken to with such
            assurance. After a second or two, he hands over the gun,

            FOSTER takes, expelling a quick sigh of relief as 

            ANGUS stands.

            Then FOSTER does the same, and they both walk down toward the


            LYNCH sits in the cab of the semi.

            LYNCH's POV: The hood of the semi is up and FERRIS is
            tinkering around under it.

            On LYNCH: continuing to face forward as if no one is there.

                      So who are you?

                          (coming partly out from the
                           sleeping berth)
                      You can call me the Healer. Cause that's
                      why I'm here for. To heal you, young man.

                          (looking out the window)
                      Heal me.

            On the gas station, FERRIS presumably somewhere inside.

                                HEALER VO
                      If ever a young son of a bitch needed it
                      more, I sure never seen him. N'listen, we
                      ain't got all day here. When that ol' boy
                      Ferris gits back,
                          (perhaps FERRIS is visible now)
                      you let him take you down the road
                      awhile, then touch his life with that pee
                      shooter in yer pocket.

                      You want me to shoot him. Why?

                      Listen, sport. You may think yer leavin'
                      trouble behind by the minute but you
                      ain't. Ever'body in this fucked up
                      country's gonna know yer face by mornin'
                      and there won't be a safe tree for you to
                      piss on. How long you got before ol'
                      Ferris catches your mug on a newspaper
                      under the word ree-ward? You think he's
                      jist gonna tell you to git lost?
                      Yer done, boy. Hell, maybe he's seein' it
                      in this dump as we speak.

            LYNCH looks sideways, seemingly snapping out of a trance. He
            looks toward the building again, and sees FERRIS looking at a

                      You do what I say, and I'll let you in on
                      a place that is on the up-and-up. A
                      social club, ya mite call it.

                      A social club. Th' fuck are you talking

            On FERRIS coming out of the store.

                      Boy, jist do what I say. Cap this ol' boy
                      and all yer troubles go sayonara, Amigo. 

            FERRIS climbs up the front of the rig and pulls the hood

                          (slam of hood)
                      It's a small price to pay, boy. 

            FERRIS opens the driver's door and climbs in. His expression
            is not jovial, to say the least. But he doesn't let on that
            he knows anything.

                          (unheard by FERRIS)
                      This ol' Ferris is goin' nowhere safe fer
                      the likes of you. How long you figger
                      it's gonna be before he figgers out who
                      the fuck you are? You think he's gonna
                      let you be cool then? Fuck that. He's
                      gonna drop yer ass right in the middle of
                      the nearest pokey. Count on it, boy. Now
                      there's a time to be cool and a time to
                      rock n' roll, and you don't have the
                      luxury of bein' cool no more. You gotta
                      do what you gotta do. So do it, hear!

            LYNCH looks out at the road for a minute as the semi drives. 

                      Ferris, man, pull over. I'm gonna puke.

                      Well, gawd-damn, boy. Hold th' hell on!

            EXT. HIGHWAY--DUSK

            The semi pulls over to the shoulder, running lights on. From
            afar, we wait and watch. Abruptly, the driver's window
            shatters and a questionable spray spews out.

            INT. SEMI CAB--DUSK

            LYNCH is breathing in huge gasps. The HEALER is whooping
            crazily. He is climbing out from behind the seats and taking
            the wheel, pushing FERRIS out.

                      Whooo--weee, boy! Grab that lip and pick
                      'er up offa the floor! Can't let these
                      boys see you lookin' like a virgin at the
                      first sight of a pecker. You in the Big
                      Time now, man. Can't let a little ol'
                      killin' flip yer skirt.

            LYNCH regards him in silent shock, practically

                          (pulling them back onto the
                      Settle in, ol' boy. We'll be to the club
                      in two seconds flat. Ya made it, sport.
                      You one of the boys now and it's o
                      fficial. There ain't no tomorrow and
                      there ain't no turnin' back!


            From a distance, we see an empty stretch of highway in the
            midst of a barren wasteland. From over the top of a hill
            comes GINA in the stolen Towncar. As we watch, the car barely
            crests the top of the hill, stalls, and rolls down into the

            INT. THE TOWNCAR--DUSK

            The thing is out of gas and GINA is cursing, slapping the
            wheel, urging it to keep moving. Interject a shot of the
            empty gas gauge.


            The Towncar finally coasts to a stop and sits dead. For a
            moment, we feel the desolation of GINA's predicament.

            INT. THE TOWNCAR--DUSK

            GINA rests her head on the steering wheel, absolutely drained
            and ready to throw in the towel.


            The driver's door opens and GINA gets out, her movements
            lethargic, resigned. As she proceeds to walk along the
            shoulder of the road, she sticks her thumb out. A semi passes
            without stopping.

            The semi rumbles off down the road, away into the horizon.

            She looks behind her again and sticks her thumb back out. A
            VW Rabbit passes her also and keeps going.
            She is now at the top of the next rise, walking, head lowered
            in self-remorse. We walk along beside her.

            When she finally looks up, she notices something in our
            general direction, and screams. Then stares, paralyzed.

            The Carnival before us and her is vast. In the same shot,
            she runs down the embankment off the highway toward it.

            As she approaches, our eye watches her, to a stop finally ten
            or fifteen feet from the enormous gate doors.

            As she pants desperately, trying to calm herself...

            One of the gates rumbles open a crack and a TUXEDO-ED MAN
            slips out. For a beat, he just stands there, smiling warmly.

            Back to GINA.

                                MAN O/S
                      Gina Louise Mayfair. Welcome.

            GINA's expression of frozen disbelief.

                      It's a pleasure to have you back. Do come

            Angle of GINA.

                      I assure you. All of your questions will
                      be answered, and all of your desires met.

            GINA moves forward.

            INT. BANQUET ROOM

            GINA enters. The TUXEDO-ED MAN has vanished. The buzz. She
            is now inside a darkly elegant banquet room, the walls beyond
            her adorned in priceless art. She is standing before a long
            banquet table, lined on both sides by formally-dressed
            GUESTS, all of whom are regarding her silently.

            Shot of GINA, wearing sustained shock.

            The GUESTS, in unison, break into polite applause.

            From behind GINA, out of darkness, a turbaned SERVANT appears
            and slides the head seat out from the table, causing a
            startled jump out of GINA. After regaining her composure, she
            finally sits--carefully, as if things might explode if she
            moves too deliberately.

                          (sitting in the proffered chair
                      What is this place?

                                WOMAN ON THE RIGHT
                      Why, home my dear.

                                MAN ON THE LEFT
                      You're back where you belong.


                                MAN ON THE LEFT
                      Close enough.

                      But this is Michigan.

            The turbaned SERVANTS bring in rolling trays of food, all of
            it so perfect it looks fake.

            GINA looks down at her plate, which has already been prepared
            and laid before her, picks up her fork and knife, and
            prepares to cut. 

            The second her fork touches the meat...

            EXT. CARNIVAL--NIGHT

            GINA is being escorted through a crowd of yelling and
            screaming FANS, all of whom are snapping pictures and trying
            to reach out for her. Her BODYGUARDS are dressed in suits,
            wear dark sunglasses, and have phone receiver wires coming
            out of their ears. They are holding her under the arms and
            moving as fast as possible.

            Shot of her tennis shoes scraping the pavement, barely.

            Show GINA's confused reaction and jittery POV.

            There is a tall skyscraper that she and her BODYGUARDS are
            heading for.

            Preceding it is a wide flight of steps that GINA and her
            BODYGUARDS climb, finally disappearing inside.

            INT. HOTEL--NIGHT

            GINA and her BODYGUARDS continue down a long, elegantly
            decorated hallway, lined with plush carpeting and many fine

                      What the fuck...

            As they approach a lone elevator at the end of the hallway,
            the doors slide open. GINA is deposited inside and the doors
            close before she can turn fully around.

                      Where am I?

            Briefly, she catches one last frontal view of her BODYGUARDS
            before they are closed off from her.

            INT. ELEVATOR

            The elevator begins to rise and GINA watches the floor
            numbers increase.

            Before too long, they are opening again. Beyond lies an
            extremely comfortable-looking suite, with glass surrounding
            the entire setting instead of walls. The lighting is warm and
            subdued. We might get the impression that we have entered the
            inner sanctum.

            INT. SUITE--NIGHT

            The view surrounding the suite outside is a gloriously
            blazing cityscape. As GINA's POV pans the room, we notice
            first a MAN staring out the windows with his hands laced
            behind his back, then (panning to the left) a turbaned
            SERVANT standing silently near the elevators like a potted
            plant. As GINA's POV comes to him, his head turns with no
            expression to regard her. Quickly, the POV sweeps back to the
            man by the windows. His name is GERALD, and he turns to face
            us with a phoney, put-on smile.

                      Gina. How was your trip back?

                      From where?

                      Are you hungry? Farquhar! Bring Miss
                      Mayfair her favorite and make it snappy!
                      Gina, Gina, Gina. We all missed you! Did
                      the wrap end well?

                      Who are you?

                          (after a chuckle)
                      I'm your agent, hon. Mister Gerald. And
                      Missus Montgomery, your manager, has some
                      exciting news to share with you. She
                      ought to be here any minute. Of course, I
                      can tell you now if you decide you just
                      can't wait.

                          (walking to the windows)

                          (now lurking very near)
                      My dear. You. Got. The Part!

            GINA faces GERALD, screams directly into his face.

                      Where the hell am I? Where the fuck have
                      you brought me!

                          (smoothly taking it)
                      Why, you're home, Gina. After finishing
                      what I hear is the best work you've done
                      so far. By the way, Premiere has been
                      calling all day long. And Playboy, since
                      last week...

            GINA is walking back in the direction of the elevator,
            slightly unfocused.

                      Your Academy invitation arrived last
                      Saturday. Everyone's offering their left
                      arms to talk to you first, and a certain

                          (up on the step before the
                      Shut up! 

                      Director of yours, a Mister Quentin
                      Tarantino, sent you a lovely spray of
                      roses two days ago. Unfortunately, they

            GINA presses the call button for the elevator. Instantly, the
            doors open.

                      I wouldn't do that if I were you, Gina.
                      Very few people find going any higher
                      than this a pleasant experience. (GERALD
                      is coming toward her faster, but not
                      running) Are you quite sure you're put
                      together well enough?

            GINA turns and scrambles back on to the elevator, stabbing
            the button once inside. 

            As GERALD approaches quickly to stop her, he nearly crashes
            into the corner of the sofa and goes flying.

                      My dear, we'll all lose our...

            The doors close him off. 

            INT. ELEVATOR--NIGHT

            The elevator starts to rise. GINA leans against the wall,
            then slides down to the floor, numb and exhausted. She starts
            to cry. Interject the buzz.

            Shot of the numbers above the elevator doors. The buzz is now

            Back to GINA.

            Back to the elevator numbers. They are climbing noticeably

            Back to GINA, finally realizing that something's wrong. She
            looks up at the floor numbers.

            GINA's POV: The buzz is now loud and trance-like. The numbers
            increasing faster than possible.

            GINA's eyes widen in horror and she raises her hands to the
            rails to brace herself, moving toward the doors without
            getting up off the floor.

            The numbers bullet higher and higher.

            Abruptly, the ceiling begins to crack. We watch as the crack
            traverses the ceiling and continues across the back wall of
            the elevator.

            GINA cowers close to the doors, quickly slapping at the bank
            of floor buttons in vain.

            All at once, the back wall of the elevator explodes outward
            and we see the empty night sky.

            GINA screams.

            Above, the ceiling is shaking, we can hear loud shattering of
            obstacles being passed through in a forcible hurry. Also the

            GINA timidly pulls herself to the spot she originally was and
            stares out where the back wall used to be.

            Far below, we can see the tops of the tallest buildings and
            the other twinkling lights of the city.

            Her expression is too shocked to emote any particular

            She looks over her shoulder at the floor numbers one last
            time and sees...

            That they are very near the end.

            She squeezes her eyes closed and whispers...


            An abrupt shaking of the camera now, and GINA is thrust


            GINA lands on pavement, but not too hard. For a beat or two,
            she stays put, then moans softly and cracks open her clamped
            shut eyes.

            The first thing she sees is pavement at eye-level. A few feet
            further, an exploded hole in the pavement and debris from the
            shattered elevator.

            With a confused expression amidst an obvious soreness in her
            body, she turns over.

            Standing before her is a group of silent, watchful ONLOOKERS.
            All of them are staring at her with no expression.

            She rolls over all the way and sits up, groggy. She looks

            The ONLOOKERS are completely surrounding her.

            GINA stands, carefully approaches a man in the crowd.

                      Where is this place?

            THE MAN looks at her for a beat, then throws his head back
            and laughs as if she's just announced the funniest joke of
            all time. Eventually, it spreads throughout the crowd. 

                          (backing off)
                      Hey! What the fuck are you people
                      laughing at?

            GINA turns in place, grasping that she's surrounded by
            lunatics that don't really exist.

                      Fuck you people! You're the one's who
                      ain't real!

            Heaving with tension, she looks over the crowd for a moment
            helplessly. Eventually, her eyes fall on someone who grips
            her attention.

            Angle of the girl, about fifteen years old, standing in the
            crowd and the only one not laughing. This is ROSE.

            GINA comes closer.

                      Can you help me?

            ROSE nods, takes GINA by the hand, and leads her back through
            the crowd. No one stops laughing, or appears to notice that
            GINA is no longer there.

            As the CROWD thins out, GINA and ROSE come out at the
            beginning of the Carnival Midway. 

                      What was that?

                      What do you mean, 'what was that?' Like
                      it doesn't happen to you everywhere you

                      Say what?

                      You're a big-time movie star. Everyone
                      just adores you. People gotta be swampin'
                      you all the time.

                      What's your name.


                      Where you from?

                      I'm sure!

                      So where we going, Rose?

                      Up the way a bit. There's a house where
                      people like you can go to get away.

                          (after a beat)
                      Hey. Thanks for helping me out back

                      No problem. Just don't forget me, okay?
                      I'll take anything--a bit, a walk-on, a
                      one or two-liner, anything. I'm good,
                      really. Been acting all my life. Dance
                      lessons since I was six...

            The setting seems to be typical carnival side-shows, but as
            we walk past, we see that the exhibits and booths bear no
            resemblance to the typical whatsoever. They see a Talent
            meter, with someone hooked up to cables, eyes closed. The
            Meter is beeping furiously. 

                      If your guess is anywhere within five
                      clicks, you get a prize!

            Next they see a seemingly traditional knock-down-the-bottles
            game. Three guys in black turtlenecks are furiously throwing
            ball after ball and missing everything.

                                BARKER #2
                      It's easy! Come on up! Just knock down
                      three and it's all yours!

                      I read well and I've been to two
                      workshops, so I'm not just saying I'm an
                      actress. I've already played Lady MacBeth
                      and Desdemona.

                          (stopping dead in her tracks,
                      What is that!

            At the end of the midway, we see a roller coaster that has
            loomed up on the left. It's twists and turns are impossible
            for any human being to withstand, and appropriately, human
            beings are being thrown into the stratosphere every few

                      That's life. If you survive, you win.

                      Win what?

                      A chance to stay here. Around all this.

            GINA tears her eyes away from the roller coaster and sees...

            A giant Tilt-a-whirl, spinning at an out of control speed,
            going into it's vertical tilt. All we can make out of people
            is their screams.

            A gaudily-lit carousel, full of children.

            CU tells us the children have no expression whatsoever, as if
            desensitized to anything fun.

                          (taking GINA by the arm)
                      Through here.

            They disappear between two circus tents.

            EXT. BEACH--NIGHT

            They are now on a twilight beach, preceding a beautiful
            mountain lake. All sign of the carnival is instantly gone.

            As they proceed, GINA and ROSE kick off their shoes and carry

            Along the coast of the lake, we see the warm and inviting
            lights of several houses.

                      Which one is it?

                      The closest one. Don't you know where we
                      are yet?


                      It's the Party, goof! The place no one
                      gets into unless they're a household
                          (They are approaching a nice
                           looking house with a veranda
                           and a deck)
                      Don't worry so much. It's totally safe
                      and hassle-free.

            Through the open door off of the veranda, their POV reveals a
            revelry going on inside. 

            GINA hesitates.

                      Come on, baby. It's nothing you're not
                      used to.

                          (slightly forceful)
                      Stop it, alright? I have no fucking idea
                      what's in there.

            As GINA says this, we see the silhouette of a man step into
            the doorway. This is MUSE.

            GINA gasps.

                      That's just Muse. Come on, Gina.

                      Welcome, Gina. So sweet of you to drop

                      No...I mean, I'm just passing by.

                          (almost desperate)
                      Gina, what are you saying? What can
                      happen? People come here and visit all
                      the time.

                      Miss Mayfair. There's no reason to fear
                      anything inside. We have everything you
                      could ever want here. I bet you're tired.
                      Hungry? Horny?

                      You have nothing for me.

                          (stepping toward the railing)
                      Oh, but I do, Gina. You want high-life,
                      you will never find a purer concentration
                      of it than what I have inside.
                          (MUSE leans out of the light
                           now, so we can see his face)
                      You can never make yourself feel as good
                      as I can make you feel.

            GINA looks at him for the last time, then runs.

            We follow her as ROSE shouts after her.



            A shrewd-eyed STATE TROOPER watches the Datsun go by, then
            raises a slip of paper to eye level that has the license
            plate number on it. Instead of giving chase immediately, the
            cop raises his hand-mike and calls his dispatcher.

            EXT. THE ROAD--DUSK

            The STATE TROOPER then slides quietly out from behind the
            billboard and follows at a normal speed, no cherries.

            INT. DATSUN--DUSK

            FOSTER driving. Something snags his attention ahead.

            EXT. THE ROAD--DUSK

            A small, handmade sign that says Grace Lutheran Church.

            INT. DATSUN--DUSK

            FOSTER wheels in at the entrance, cutting his headlights even
            though there are no other buildings or human beings around to
            witness. We never see the state trooper's car pass behind
            him. We precede the Datsun as it pulls behind the one-room
            churchhouse and stops.

            INT. CHURCH--DUSK

            The back door of the church is forced open, but not kicked
            open. FOSTER is standing in the twilight with ANGUS behind
            him. For a beat, he surveys the dark interior, then enters,
            moving off-frame. Eventually, ANGUS also enters.

            FOSTER is opening a refrigerator. 

                      Seek and ye shall find! (more perhaps)

            ANGUS just paces, not uncomfortable, taking in the place, and

            FOSTER offers some of the bread to ANGUS, who looks at it and
            him mistrustfully. 

                      It's okay, buddy.

                      My head hurts.

                      I know. It's because you're hungry. Come
                      on, we can relax here.

            ANGUS takes it, and continues to pace.

                      How long's it been since you ate?

            ANGUS shrugs.

                      Are you tired?

                      Yeah. Very.

                      Mind if I talk to you a little?

            ANGUS ends up sitting on a table that rests in the center of
            the room. 

            FOSTER removes the tape recorder from his vest and sets it on
            the counter beside him.



                      What happened after Doctor Hesson let you

                      We ran like hell, what would you do? We
                      got lucky, found a truck on the back
                      forty of the property, on the road that
                      runs back there. The driver was taking a
                      piss. Pure luck. We got in the back and
                      shut the fuck up. That's what we did.

                      Do you remember who the other people
                      were? The ones who were with you?


                      Can you tell me anything Doctor McGregor
                      or Hesson said to you before they gave
                      you the shot?

                      They didn't give us the shot.

                      Who did?

                      Some guy in a white coat. Some kind of
                      intern or some damn thing. We never saw
                      him before.

                      What do you mean 'we'?

                      I mean me.

                      Well, did either one of them say anything
                      at any point before they let you go?

                      Doctor McGregor wasn't in on it, as far
                      as I know. And you leave Hesson alone.

                      I promise I'm not a cop, Robert.

                      McGregor said he'd be with me the entire
                      time, that I shouldn't worry about a
                      thing. He said he didn't think I'd feel
                      any pain. He's innocent in every way,

                      And have you?

                      Have I what?

                      Felt any pain.

                      Besides hunger? Not really, no.

                      Can you tell me anything about what
                      you've been doing out in those woods all
                      this time?

                          (thinking wistfully)
                      It rained one night. It was cold every
                      night. I stole some food. Slept in a

                      A motel? Where'd you get the money for

            ANGUS/ROBERT's eyes come to fall flatly on FOSTER and ANGUS
            does not answer immediately. After a beat...

                      Don't know.

                      Who might remember, Robert?

                          (a beat)
                      Maybe Bobby. 


                      The Face Man.

                      Can I talk to him?

            ANGUS looks lost for a moment, the focus leaving his eyes.
            For a second or two, his head falls down against his chest.
            When he comes up, he is smiling.



                      Melody loaned it to me. The jacket too,
                      and the gun.

                      Bobby. It's a pleasure to meet you.

                      Why does everyone always say that?
                      Graham, right?


                      Pleasure to meet you too, Graham.

                      Um, can you tell me about Melody?

                      Sure. Melody. Nice girl. She stopped and
                      offered us a ride into town. Said she'd
                      lived around there all her life. I think
                      she liked me, too. But then again, so do
                      they all, my friend. So do they all.

                      Pretty popular, are you?

                      You bet. It's my beautiful, winning

                      Bobby. What happened to Melody?

            BOBBY's eyes turn cold and dead.

                      I don't know.

                      You mean you don't remember?

                      No, I mean I have no idea. Everything was
                      going smooth as ice cream until she said
                      I looked kind of young and asked me if I
                      still lived with my parents. After that,
                      there's not much.

            FOSTER just stares, fascinated.

                      I'm tired. I need to sleep.


            ANGUS/BOBBY slips down off the table and wanders through a
            door into the church itself. Gradually being dissolved by the

            FOSTER watches him walk the whole way.

            Watches ANGUS lay down on one of the pews.

            Then quickly slips out the back door.


            FOSTER opens the Datsun's passenger door quietly, opens the
            glove box, takes out ANGUS' forty-five.


            LYNCH falls to his knees vomiting.

            The HEALER laughs at him for it, jeering and dancing around
            like a lunatic.

                          (slightly regaining composure)
                      Are we close?

                      Ain't far now, boy. Jist the other side
                      of this field.

                      You know, my name ain't boy. It's Thommy.

            The HEALER snorts, doesn't bother to answer.

                      So where's this social club? What kind of
                      place is it?

                      It's the arena, boy. You gotta prove
                      whether you kin handle the other side or

                      Drop the fucking riddles, okay? What the
                      fuck are you walking me into?

                      Boy, I told you...

                      And quit calling me boy!

                          (having fun)
                      Alrighty, Lynch. We're goin' to a place
                      where all young punk-fucks like yerself
                      always go, sooner or later. It's a place
                      where all yer beliefs are waitin' to meet
                      you, face to face.

                      Beliefs? What beliefs?

            At this, the HEALER laughs his ass off, long and loud.

                      Jist you wait, boy. Jist you wait!

            INT. CHURCH--NIGHT

            We cut to the church, proceeding down the aisle toward the
            alter slowly. About midway, we stop and hold. ANGUS rises
            from where he has been laying in one of the pews. Throughout
            the opening of this scene, we hear a slightly audible but
            rising cacophony of the buzz and mish-mash voices of ANGUS'
            altars. As he rises, they reach their loudest. 

                                ALTAR VO
                      First of all, he can't be trusted.

                                ALTAR #2 VO
                      Why? It's like Hesson said, if he was
                      going to--

                           ALTAR #3 VO
                      --Choice. Stay out in the woods and
                      sooner or later--

                           ALTAR #4 VO
                      --Godsend. Would've died--

            ANGUS is sitting up in the pew. MCGREGOR is sitting in the
            pew behind him. The VO continues.

                           ALTAR #5
                      --Drug. It's too much--

                           ALTAR #6
                      --Bound to pass soon--

                                ALTAR #7
                      --Know? Maybe it's perm--

                      Who am I addressing?

            ANGUS spins around in his seat. Obviously, he is amazed to
            see MCGREGOR. Interject the buzz, softly.

                      I don't know. Help me, doctor.

                      Who are you?

                      I'm scared.

                      There's only one way to do it. Remember?

                      I was there. I was back inside. I lost

                      And you have to lose the others as well.
                      How long will you ever be well if you

                      I can't! Who will I have then?

                      The badness is gone, my friend. You don't
                      need them any longer. I'm so sorry you
                      had to find out so suddenly, and without
                      me here in the flesh. I'm sorry that our
                      times were cut short. The loosening you
                      feel is the effects of the drug. The loss
                      of young Sophie was the first, and will
                      not be the last. The others are letting
                      go too, and you have to let them.

                      My family. I need somebody!

                                MCGREGOR'S VO
                      I'm sorry.

            ANGUS stands weakly, almost drunkenly, and steps out into the
            aisle. He regards the empty pew where MCGREGOR was sitting.

                           ALTAR VO
                      Get out, you little fuck!

                           ALTAR #2 VO
                      Out! Out! Out!

            Angle on the front doors of the church. One of them opens and
            a shady figure enters carefully. It is PELLOW, though this
            might not be obvious at first.

            ANGUS begins to proceed up the aisle toward the back room,
            where FOSTER is. His POV: the cross with the statue of Jesus
            above the alter, the pulpit.

            Angle on ANGUS: slowing down, perhaps registering a suspicion
            of something else present.

            Angle on the alter: MISTER MADNESS is now standing behind the

                      Are you done fucking around, boy?

                      You're not real. You're only here because
                      of me and I want you gone.

                      I won't go away, boy. No matter who you
                      conjure up to throw in front of me.


            ANGUS whirls around.

            PELLOW is advancing up the aisle slowly toward him,

                      Angus, just stay right there. It's all

            Angle on ANGUS, shocked by this, but accustomed to shock by

                                ALTAR VO

                           ALTAR #2 VO
                      Not real--

                           ALTAR #3 VO
                      Yes, he is.

                                ALTAR #4 VO
                      Shoot you--

                           ALTAR #5 VO
                      --Choice! GO!

                           ALTAR VO
                      Stop. He'll take you back to McGregor--

            Torn by indecision, ANGUS turns back toward the alter and
            begins to walk.

                                PELLOW VO
                      Stop! I'll shoot!

            ANGUS breaks into a run, making it through to the back room.

            INT. BACK ROOM--NIGHT

            ANGUS passes FOSTER, who was sitting in a chair with his head
            down on the table. FOSTER raises his head, and looks around
            at ANGUS, bewildered. ANGUS continues out the back door in a

            We follow him.


            We watch ANGUS run for awhile, then hear a gunshot. He
            staggers, but keeps running. We follow him into the treeline
            some distance behind the church.

            We continue to follow him haphazardly and with much camera
            rocking as he runs for his life.

                                ALTAR VO
                      Hide, they can't find you...

                                ALTAR #2 VO
                      Run! They will when the sun comes up.
                      They'll shoot, they can't afford not to..

            EXT. LEDGE--NIGHT

            ANGUS finally comes out of the trees and finds himself on a
            ledge that should not, at first, be obvious as a ledge. For a
            second or two, he can only stand there breathing hard,
            exhausted. Interject the buzz.

            His POV: a distant red light shining in the darkness.

                                BEAST'S VO
                      You came to find me, boy, and it's high
                      time you got here. Turn around. 


                                BEAST VO
                      Turn around, you little worthless piece
                      of pussy trash.

                      Fuck you.

                                BEAST VO
                      You were so easy. Like a sweet little
                      virgin whore. Your daddy thought so too.
                      He couldn't resist, and neither could I.
                      Turn around, trash. You look good on your

            CU of SOPHIE's hand reaching into his.

                      Baby, I missed you..

            SOPHIE is now standing before him.

                      Let's go, baby. Let's go.

                                BEAST VO
                      There's only one way, boy, and you know
                      what that is. You can run from them
                      forever, but I'm gonna be with you every
                      step of the rest of your life.

                      We have to kill him, baby.

            ANGUS nods, at peace now, and begins to walk forward. The
            darkness envelops him and he is gone.

            EXT. BEACH--NIGHT

            Come down on GINA, walking along the beach quickly but no
            longer running. The moonlight shines across the lake beside
            her. She is lost in her own thoughts.

            Until she stops, as if she has heard something. For a beat or
            two, she just listens, turning to..

            The lake, and the peaceful moonlight.

                                MOTHER'S VO
                          (on the wind)

            GINA turns sharply, as if the noise came from behind her, but
            all we see is...


            GINA turns back to the lake, simply observing it, though
            tears are welling in her eyes.

            MOTHER is standing behind her. She places a hand on GINA's
            shoulder. Instead of being scared, it is as though GINA has
            been expecting it. Though she is fully in tears now.

                      Gina. Turn around, baby.

            GINA turns slowly, and her expression carries only exhausted

                      Momma. This isn't what I wanted.

            They embrace. 

            GINA feels the solidity of it, then sinks to her knees as if
            drained of every ounce of energy.

                      Momma, I can't run anymore. 
                          (embracing her MOTHER, pressing
                           her face into her MOTHER's
                      I can't go back. I had so many dreams.
                      Now I can't even live in this place

            The two of them are crouched beside each other now, Gina's
            MOTHER holding her.

                      You try so hard to be what you've already
                      are. Stop looking for it, Gina. Just
                      stop, and enjoy your life. I knew what
                      you are, and now you're going to know,

                      Momma, take me with you...

                      I never left, baby. I've never been gone.

            GINA's POV: MOTHER walking away, then looking over her

                          (on the wind)
                      The last time you will ever see me, baby.

            GINA stares after her MOTHER.

            GINA's POV: the empty beach.

            GINA sobs.


            When the scene returns, it is LYNCH's floor-level view,
            upside-down, of the Badass Club. He sees the legs of tables
            and chairs. Flickering oil lamps. A bar along the far wall,
            bottles lining the racks behind it. Slowly, the camera begins
            to turn over, right side up, implying that he is turning over
            onto his stomach.

            We see LYNCH do so.

            Back to the floor-level angle. Another beat, and a boot comes
            down right in the middle of the view. 

            Mid-aerial of LYNCH, looking up.

                      Git him up.

            On LYNCH: as two sets of hands reach down and grab hold of
            his arms, lifting him up. 

                      I'm gonna barf...

            LYNCH's POV: a fist coming squarely for his nose. Connecting.
            The owner of it wears a black cowboy hat. LYNCH is righted
            again, and another punch connects with his stomach, doubling
            him over. The next time he is righted, we are in his POV,
            regarding the hitter, the HICK. He wears a red bandanna
            beneath the hat, wears a leather vest open all the way to
            permit a respectible beer belly. He wears mirror shades,
            chews a toothpick, has long greasy hair beneath the bandanna.
            The arms are covered in tattoos.

                      Welcome, boy. Welcome home.

            On LYNCH: He is bleeding from the nose and reeling.

                      It's a pleasure to have you, boy. We all
                      been waitin'.


            LYNCH is struck again for asking the question, and his head
            rocks back.

                          (leaning in close)
                      Here, son, you'll learn quick enough to
                      speak only when spoken to. Otherwise,
                      shut it. That cool with you?

            LYNCH nods, and receives another belt in the stomach.

                      Did you not hear the question, boy?

                      Yes, sir.

                          (screaming in his face)
                      I asked if you understood the question.


                          (smiling fiendishly)
                      Well, good boy. Now, as I was sayin',
                      this here's the club for you, and we all
                      want you to know you're more than welcome

            The HICK turns away, heading toward the bar.

                      After all, home is where the heart is,
                      and so on and so forth.

            On LYNCH: We see one of the figures who is supporting him, a
            WOMAN. She leans into him and whispers seductively in his

                      But the world is your oyster, baby. Just
                      remember, it's a free country.

                      Where am I?

                      You're here.

                      Where's here?


            The HICK is standing over by the bar, appearing to pour
            himself a drink. 

                      Our home is yore home! And we all know, a
                      man's home is his castle.

            Cut to an angle on the HICK, demonic eyes and feverish smile.

                      We love you. We care about you. You're a
                      part of us. What's ours is yore's.
                      There's no place like...

                          (to the woman)
                      How do I get out of here?

            The HICK whirls around, seemingly in a rage. He is
            brandishing a huge hunting knife.

                      And always remember! Appreciate. What.
                      You. Have. But never become Complacent.

                          (whispering seductively)
                      Shoot for the moon, sweetheart.

            LYNCH begins to become very afraid at this point, realizing
            unequivocally that he is trapped in a room full of lunatics.
            Just then, a loud crash off-camera catches his attention and
            his POV swivels to the left.

            To a swinging door that apparently leads into a kitchen. A
            scream erupts soon after.

            A last shot of LYNCH, frozen with terror.

            A YOUNG MAN's body is propelled through the door in slo-mo,
            torn and bleeding, obviously beaten to a pulp, but still
            alive. The YOUNG MAN hits the table closest to the door and
            connects hard, going down on the floor behind it.

            Cut to the HICK, slowly but deliberately making his way
            across the room. Show the knife. Cut away to LYNCH's widened
            eyes, watching.

            The HICK reaches the YOUNG MAN, reaches down behind the
            table, and comes up with the YOUNG MAN by the hair. The YOUNG
            MAN's eyes are almost swollen shut completely.

            The HICK regards his catch for a beat, then looks to LYNCH.

                          (pointing the hunting knife at
                      Boy, listen to me now. I, I
                      need you to know that you got yore whole
                      life ahead of you. But man, is life ever

            The HICK cocks his arm back and brings the knife into the
            YOUNG MAN viciously. We, however, cut away just before the
            penetration, going to LYNCH and his eyes full of shock and
            disgust. The YOUNG MAN's screaming fills the scene and LYNCH
            tries to close his eyes.

                          (cooing in his ear)
                      Good things come to those who wait, but
                      you got to go out and find what you want.
                      It ain't gonna come to you. You can have
                      anything in this world if you want it bad
                      enough. But you can't have yore cake and
                      eat it, too. Yore a product of yore own
                      society, but you got to make yore own
                      choices. Behind every great man is a
                      great woman...

            Cut to the HICK, still holding the YOUNG MAN, now dead, by
            the hair. He looks again to LYNCH.

                      But jist between you and me, son, don't
                      ever trust no woman. Jist believe this:
                      All you need is love.

                      But a man's home is his castle.

            The HICK, now covered in blood, allows the corpse of the
            YOUNG MAN to return to the floor. Satiated, he continues to
            address LYNCH, slowly and comfortably making his way toward

                      To be virtuous is pure, and to turn the
                      other cheek, to love thy naybur as
                      thyself, and do unto others as you would
                      have them do unto you
                          (HICK stops, considering)
                      Or is it, Do unto others before they do
                      unto you?

            LYNCH listens, then hears an insane burst of cackling to his
            left. He looks, to see...

            The HEALER, sitting at a table with a bottle of something,
            enjoying himself immensely.

                      Set 'im straight, Preacher. Tell 'er like
                      she is!

            LYNCH's head is jerked back to regard the HICK by the WOMAN.

                      Watch and learn, lover. Bad times never
                      last for long.

                      Open yoreself to yore fellow man. But
                      keep it close to the vest, son. Love thy
                      naybur, an keep yore noses clean. All you
                      need is faith. To play yore cards right,
                      all you need is love.

                      But money makes the world go 'round,
                      right Sweetie?

            The HICK is close now, standing right before LYNCH.

                      Do well in school. Stay out of trouble.
                      Love thy naybur as thyself. 
                          (HICK caresses LYNCH's sweating
                      Everything will work itself out. Bad
                      times never last for long. But also be
                      careful what you wish for.

            The WOMAN drops LYNCH, and he crumples to the floor.

                      Gawd bless the child'ern! 
                          (freakish laughter)

            LYNCH's eyes open with a glimmer of recall. His hand moves
            slowly toward the waistband at the small of his back.

                                WOMAN VO
                      A fever of love, Lynch. Someone's always

            LYNCH grasps the thirty-eight.

            On the HICK: walking around the room, lost in his own

                          (voice of LYNCH's mother coming
                           out of the HICK's mouth)
                      So many people care for you, boy. How
                      could you let us all down? Such a

            LYNCH brings the thirty-eight out from under his jacket,
            gripping it tightly, getting ready. Through one eye, he
            gauges the distance to the HICK, then the WOMAN, who is
            regarding the body of the YOUNG MAN, to the HEALER, who is
            drinking deeply from the bottle.

            LYNCH starts to stand weakly.

                          (in his own voice again)
                      Remember the Golden Rule, boy. All men
                      are created equal. But every man knows
                      his limitations. So keep yore noses
                      clean, and love thy neighbor.

            LYNCH aims the thirty-eight at the HICK's turned back, closes
            one eye, ready to kill.

                      Just remember, love and befriend thy

            LYNCH takes in a breath. 

            The WOMAN turns away from the corpse, sees LYNCH, but doesn't
            say anything.

                          (closes his eyes serenely)
                      But always look out for number one.

            LYNCH clamps his eyes shut, yells out in anger, and pulls the

                                                           CUT TO BLACK:

                                FOSTER'S VO
                          (beginning on black:)
                      Of the five subjects who survived the
                      process, only three have thus far been
                      accounted for, these being: Edgar Tuttle,
                      Sean Angus Daemon, and Thomas Nathan


            FOSTER is typing with his back to us, sitting at his desk in
            his apartment.

                                FOSTER VO
                      When I was finally permitted to interview
                      Doctor Hesson personally, two weeks after
                      his incarceration, I opened the
                      discussion to anything he cared to
                      elaborate on concerning the four. Only
                      Angus was he comfortable in discussing. 

                                HESSON VO
                      I have concluded that Angus was shot
                      during a time which must have seen
                      virtually every sense of reality and
                      unreality in complete disarray.  


            We come in on ANGUS' body being dragged from the river he
            fell into after stepping off the cliff.

                                HESSON VO
                      Being that it was dark, not to mention
                      heavily-wooded, the cliff's edge was,
                      most likely
                          (begin a slow pan up the side
                           of the cliff to the ledge from
                           which we never saw ANGUS fall)
                      simply unperceived. He was quite probably
                      in the throes of his alternate selves
                      fighting for executive control of the
                      body, or splintering from each other in
                      panic or pain. It is my professional
                      opinion that Angus fell off that cliff
                      completely by accident.

            EXT. CITY STREET-DAY

            We see LYNCH backing up toward us, coming out of an alley in
            an obvious daze. 

                                HESSON VO
                      At the time I evaluated Lynch, he was a
                      young man very accustomed to cynicism. He
                      admitted feeling frequently unnerved over
                      questions of religion and the subject of
                      his upbringing. He expressed having very
                      little faith in the results of either,
                      though he wished there was truth and
                      relevancy concerning such matters.

            LYNCH turns, looking up the street to his left and we see the
            hopeless, deserted look in his expression. As well as the gun
            in his hand.

                                HESSON VO
                      Judging from the actions that he
                      initiated after fleeing from Capricorn, I
                      would ascertain that his defense systems,
                      his abilities to cope with those deep
                      seated anxieties, underwent a complete
                      collapse concerning any semblance of

            The gun is dangling from his hand. We see him raise it. The
            street is full of people. We see him yell, then fire
            repeatedly, emptying the gun.

                                HESSON VO
                      In right or wrong, he had little faith to
                      begin with. His was a life raised on
                      contradictions of every type. Toward his
                      end, Lynch must have felt completely and
                      utterly alone, to an extent far exceeding
                      anything he had known before.

            We see innocent victims falling in the street.

                                HESSON VO
                      This was, of course, the truth of Lynch's
                      entire make-up, yet coupled with every
                      feeling of abandonment he had ever known,
                      combined in that moment. It is apparent,
                      in my professional opinion, that it was
                      this intensity of feelings that delivered
                      him into his homicidal condition.

            During this last paragraph, the action goes into slow motion,
            with LYNCH's mental digression happening before our very
            eyes. As HESSON's VO ends, we are dropped into real time, and
            the sound of screaming, a split-second before a blaring car

            LYNCH spins around.

            A Cadillac barely veers away from hitting LYNCH, then crashes
            into the side of a building.

                                COP'S VO
                      Drop it!

            LYNCH looks forward again, and brings his empty gun around
            for the exchange, but catches the COP's fire directly in his
            chest. He goes down out of frame.

            We see the street COP straight-arming his thirty-eight
            special issue. 

            We see LYNCH land on his back on the pavement, in slo-mo


            We slow-pan across the land, eventually passing the freeway
            that GINA was using to escape before the breakdown of her
            car. We see the abandoned Town Car, keep going, and finally
            see her laying on her back out in the middle of a field.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                      During the conversation we would soon
                      have Gina admitted separating from Jimmy
                      Rhodes the very day after she had called
                      me from Twin Lakes.
                      She claimed no recollection of what her
                      actual reason had been for leaving him
                      there, or what had happened to her in the
                      time following, but that she awoke in the
                      middle of a field at sunrise with a
                      feeling of wonderful calm.

            We see GINA open her eyes as if she has just a wonderful
            night's sleep. This is a contrast to seeing LYNCH hit the
            ground on the threshold of death. She wipes a few tears from
            her eyes, but the disposition is more relieved than
            distressed. Gradually, she rolls over, rises, and walks out
            of frame.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                          (staying on the sunrise)
                      At that point, Gina had walked back to
                      the highway, and proceeded back to (the
                      town) on foot in order to look for

            INT. NEWSROOM--DAY

            FOSTER sitting at his desk, seeming distracted, maybe tired.
            The blinking light on his phone pulses, and he answers it.
            Awareness comes into his expression.

                      Why should I believe you?

            GINA's hand on the side of a phone booth door. She herself is
            not seen.

                      Graham, look. I'm real sorry about Twin
                      Lakes. Jimmy got all paranoid on me. He
                      didn't think you could be trusted. 

                                FOSTER'S VO
                      I knew with every instinct that it was


            Slow pan down to the crusty, hanging sign of a place called
            Crazy Pete's. It is a diner.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                      I agreed to meet her in a small Texas
                      town called Guthrie, approximately 150
                      miles northwest of Fort Worth. I arrived
                      almost an hour early.

            FOSTER inside, a little older now, sitting at a table. There
            is no one else here but a table of three quiet MEXICANS, and
            a bored WAITRESS.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                      The hour came and went, as did the
                      meeting time, as did the entire

            We see the time change. The sun is well into twilight. FOSTER
            sits at the same table, rooted to it in a half-doze.

            The door opens. A woman wearing a black wig enters. This is
            GINA, though it isn't quite obvious. The three MEXICANS have
            been replaced by four different ones, and an OLD MAN reading
            the newspaper.

            FOSTER watches her attentively.

                          (after walking over)
                      You're Graham Foster?

                      Pleased to meet you, Gina.

            New shot: illustrate the passage of a short time. Show GINA
            rise, not in a hurry, but leaving nonetheless.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                      When she eventually stood up to leave, I
                      recall telling her it was a shame that I
                      probably wouldn't be seeing her in the
                      movies anytime soon.
                          (Show FOSTER mouth his lines to
                           GINA, then go to GINA for her
                      She winked at me and smiled, saying
                      "Someday, honey." And then she left. It
                      was the last time I spoke to her.


            FOSTER typing his book. Same scene we started with, coming up
            on him from behind.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                          (go to a shot from the front)
                      To this day, slightly less than one full
                      month before the publication of this
                      book, I am still haunted by the people of
                      this story. Doctor Walter F. McGregor,
                      the sole creator of the drug's chemistry
                      and it's implementation, has thus far
                      been unaccounted for. 

            EXT. HIGHWAY--NIGHT

            Pan across a twilight highway in the middle of nowhere.
            Eventually land on a girl hitchhiking. She wears a red wig.
            She gets into a car that pulls over and the car drives off.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                      I wonder frequently about Gina, expecting
                      to hear her name mentioned in the news. I
                      dread to hear that the Truth will re
                      surface in her at some time, as it did in
                      Edgar Tuttle.

            EXT. STREET--DAY

            LYNCH's body being zipped up in the body bag.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                      I have learned things from the deaths of
                      Lynch and Angus that I believe I will
                      probably never understand fully.


            We go to a crowded city business district in the middle of
            the day, people hustling everywhere. A man comes into view
            reading the front page of a newspaper. We linger on him, and
            realize that it is JIMMY, his looks altered by time. As he
            stops at a trash can on the street and drops the paper into
            it, he looks to the sky, relaxed, and smiles.

                                FOSTER'S VO
                      But most of all, it is Jimmy Rhodes that
                      occupies my memories, for no other reason
                      than his ongoing absence from the mystery
                      of the Truth. His story seems to end
                      after he and Gina separated. I believe
                      he is still alive somewhere. Likely, I
                      will always wonder in vain what became of
                          (JIMMY moves away down the
                      He was seeking some element of
                      perfection, and I hope with utter
                      sincerity that he has found it.

            The angle pulls away from the city and out of it, to reveal
            that it is the City of JIMMY's dreams.

                                                               FADE OUT:
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