God Dog Chpt. 1

<body marginheight=0 marginwidth=0 topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 rightmargin=0 bgcolor="#000000"> <body text="#FF0000" link="#FF0000" alink="#FF0000" vlink="#FF0000" body bgcolor="#000000"> <center> <table border="0" width="730"> <tr> <td> <h3><a href="#chosen">The Chosen</a>... <a href="#flowers">Dream of Flowers</a>... <a href="#prophecy">Prophecy</a>... <a href="#cars">Cars</a></h3> <br></br> </td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="730"> <tr> <td> <a name="chosen"></a> <h2>EXT- WOODS- NIGHT</h2> <h3>From a pit of black, her eyes twist and spin, chattering with overwhelming terror - RACHAEL. And then they cringe, shielding from a smack of dirt.</h3> <h3>From the cold, black woods above, RICHARD PALMER, is steadily burying her.</h3> <h3>Shaking her face free from the mud, Rachael is squirming, wrists straining in hog-tied bonds, her voice trying to break the panic.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>RACHAEL<br> Wait... please... I'll do anything!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Don't want you to do anything. I get off on the hunt. Everything else is clean up.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>To that, more muck falls.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>RACHAEL<br> Alive?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He leans over, weighing on the shovel, looking deep into the lust of her demise.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> I like to watch the dirt move.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>But her pleas are chilling, with whimpers capable of piercing the stoniest of hearts.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>RACHAEL<br> No. Please... Don't bury me... please...</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- WOODS- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Her face, dazed and taped, bobs against PALMER's butt. RACHAEL has been spared. And he, her butt over shoulder, is stunned. He gave in.</h3> <h2>EXT- CAR- NIGHT</h2> <h3>A heave and a thud, PALMER dumps RACHAEL in an old BUICK's trunk.</h3> <h3>Inside, he straps her to the chassis, bounding her to the trunk floor, and slams her in.</h3> <h2>EXT- ROAD- NIGHT</h2> <h3>The black road consumes. The engine deafens. And PALMER broods.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> What the hell am I doing?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Then the inevitable: 360's light from behind.</h3> <h2>EXT- SHOULDER- NIGHT</h2> <h3>With that ominous business shoe clap, the OFFICER eases in. Hand on gun, his light beams on PALMER.</h3> <h2>INT- TRUNK- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Hearing the cop talk, RACHAEL is digging her cheek into a jagged bolt, trying to catch the tape.</h3> <h2>EXT- SHOULDER- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Eyes squinting through the blare, PALMER tries to see the OFFICER - talk to him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>OFFICER<br> You know your left taillight is out?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Thanks for letting me know. I'll get that fixed.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- TRUNK- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Blood smearing her face, RACHAEL keeps working her cheek on the bolt. The tape's edge is loose but it still seals her lips.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>OFFICER (os)<br> License and registration?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- SHOULDER- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Now PALMER sees the OFFICER, or at least his outline.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You need that for a taillight?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>OFFICER<br> Yes, sir.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He goes for his pocket.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>OFFICER<br> (cont'd)<br> Easy.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>So, Palmer goes easy.</h3> <h2>INT- TRUNK- NIGHT</h2> <h3>RACHAEL has managed to catch the tape on the bolt and is pulling. She tries but mumbles. Pulls: tries and pulls. Then...</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>RACHAEL<br> Help!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- SHOULDER- NIGHT</h2> <h3>PALMER looks up from his wallet to her scream.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>RACHAEL (from trunk)<br> Help!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The OFFICER draws his gun. Trying to play it off, Palmer hands him his license.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Here you go.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>RACHAEL (from trunk)<br> Somebody please help me!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He blinks with innocence, keeping his composure.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PROSECUTOR (vo)<br> The victim can ID him. Both can be placed at the grave: her in it, him on top. The tools are in his car. She's in his trunk. Life's the only thing I'll offer.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- PRISON- DAY</h2> <h3>The PROSECUTOR waits for an answer while the DEFENSE whispers in PALMER's ear.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DEFENSE<br> He's got us in a bad bind. If you want life, you have to tell him where the other bodies are.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> All this from a taillight.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PROSECUTOR<br> The officer was filling a quota. I guess you could say there is a God.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> I'll fry.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The Prosecutor scowls - insulted.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PROSECUTOR<br> We gas here.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- GAS CHAMBER- DAY</h2> <h3>The tablet splatters acid. PALMER chokes. The monitor flat-lines.</h3> <h2>INT- MORGE- DAY</h2> <h3>On the steel slab, surrounded by more steel, PALMER lays under a white sheet - dead. He's alone, just him and a lamp.</h3> <h3>Through the cloth his eyes stare blank at the light - fogged, forgotten. But that glow seeps in, engulfing everything in brilliance.</h3> <h3>Those eyes dim, then blink, then look. That head rises. And Palmer unveils himself before the heavenly portal.</h3> <h3>It's God's light - that clean warming.</h3> <h3>And Palmer is humbled before it, his tears embraced in pure white.</h3> <h2>INT- APARTMENT- DAY</h2> <h3>Amidst the saccharine melodies of a Mexican love song, DONNA GONZALEZ, an old Hispanic woman, sweats and pants in the dying sun.</h3> <h3>Her daughter, LAURA NAVARRO, is with her, holding her hand, caressing water on her face. The turntable plays, hushing away Donna's mumbles and rants.</h3> <h3>But not well enough. For in the next room, FRANK NAVARRO, husband to daughter, turns up the TV, sparing their KIDS and father, RUDY.</h3> <h2>EXT- APARTMENT BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>Bundled in rags and long coat, PALMER, filthy but alive, smells the wind. He listens to it, hearing DONNA'S MUMMBLES ring in his ear.</h3> <h3>His hairy face scans past the gawking LOCALS to the door. Drifting around an exiting COUPLE, he slips inside.</h3> <h2>INT- APARTMENT HALL- DAY</h2> <h3>KIDS dart by, ADULTS watch, but PALMER ignores it all, keeping his pace steady and in one direction.</h3> <h3>It's a single door and, without a second thought, he pounds on it. FRANK is the one to greet him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>FRANK<br> Who the fuck are you?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Donna Gonzalez, she's ill. I'm here to help.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Frank's jaw drops. He looks ready to kill him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Please, Oh Lord, help my family. Save us from our pain. Spare Donna from hers.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The kill mode fades to awe.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> I even know you feel guilty for turning up the TV.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>FRANK<br> You for real?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> That all depends on faith doesn't it?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- APARTMENT- DAY</h2> <h3>FRANK steps aside, letting PALMER go straight to DONNA. LAURA jumps at the sight of him. But he touches her, seeming to calm her. She moves back.</h3> <h3>RUDY and KIDS all gather with him, watching Palmer kneel before DONNA. He takes her hand, quieting her rants.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Sssh.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Placing a palm on her forehead, he closes his eyes and concentrates. The room's silent, even the music has faded out. It is just their eyes, Donna and Palmer.</h3> <h3>And then it's done, everyone following him to the window.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>FRANK<br> Is that it?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Palmer breathes: tensing for what's to come.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Almost.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Right then, Laura screams. From every convulsing orifice, Donna's spewing blood. Frenzy hitting like a switch, Frank charges Palmer, running right into his machete.</h3> <h3>A slash to the neck and Palmer tosses him aside. But he's not done. Frank, now a fountain of red, jumps right back, ramming Palmer into the wall.</h3> <h3>Laura still screams, trying to wedge something under the seizing Donna's tongue, blood spraying all over her.</h3> <h3>Rudy gets a gun. The kids run out. Except one who stabs Palmer in the leg.</h3> <h3>He howls, kicking the kid down, Frank yanking Palmer to the floor. Trapped under the enraged husband, Palmer digs his fingers into the man's neck wound.</h3> <h3>Finally, Frank drops, revealing behind him Rudy with the gun. Bang. The shot knocks Palmer's head back.</h3> <h3>A hole clearly in his forehead, he's still conscious. There's no blood.</h3> <h3>Grabbing the machete, Palmer chops the stunned Rudy's ankle. He's up and finishes the old man.</h3> <h3>Her screeches blaring, Laura is frozen in sheer hysteria. Coughing, Palmer stands by her and efficiently whacks her life away.</h3> <h3>And then all was silent again: a quiet moment that Palmer takes to cross himself before the dead. Holding that hand over them with classic saintly two fingers, he blesses his unfortunate kill.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> R...I...P... Return to grace.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Then all was silent again. What's left is Donna - drained, dead - and what's pulling itself out of her blood.</h3> <h3>Weary, the bulbous gelatin body can only slop to the corner: it maybe escaping, or maybe finding a comfortable spot to fail.</h3> <h3>Slurping around, it faces Palmer, staring in awe with its fragile fish eyes. This is his prize: the thing the killing was about - a ROGUE SOUL.</h3> <h3>Air gurgling from a spongy throat, the thing speaks.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>ROGUE<br> How? I hid for so long.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>With a smile, Palmer whispers to it.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> He's tired of you. You were found because he decided for you to be.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>And then Palmer rises; machete in hand.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> So now you are and back to God you go.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>A spin and a slam, he stabs down with a thunderous punch.</h3> <h2>INT- APARTMENT- DAY</h2> <h3>Dissolving down to a bubbling stain, the ROGUE is dead.</h3> <h2>EXT- APARTMENT BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>Jumping from the fire escape, PALMER is on the move again. But so are the NAVARRO KIDS, pointing him out to the trailing MOB.</h3> <h3>SEVEN MEN go after him. But, kissing his fingers, Palmer performs a modest miracle, making them all seizure.</h3> <h3>The rest stop and just stare: stare as if he's the devil himself.</h3> <h3>And Palmer keeps walking.</h3> <h2>EXT- STORE FRONT- DAY</h2> <h3>With out care, with out stealth, PALMER takes a shirt from an outdoor rack and tosses the hanger. He does the same for the pants.</h3> <h2>EXT- CHURCH- DAY</h2> <h3>At a church of classic Spanish vent, the bums gather, mulling about like it was an underpass.</h3> <h3>Clothes slung over his shoulder, PALMER passes them, going for the church - for a shadowy crack within.</h3> <h2>INT- SHADOW- DAY</h2> <h3>Peeling away the bloody garments, PALMER reveals not scars but fresh wounds over his body. Each deep cut looking only seconds old, the man should be dead.</h3> <h3>But not one injury interferes with him dressing and adorning his weapons: a belt of knives around the belly and two machetes lashed to the back.</h3> <h2>EXT- CHURCH- DAY</h2> <h3>Ascending from the dark, PALMER meditates all the urban noise away. There's a HUM in the air and he listens. Closing his eyes, he hones in on the direction.</h3> <h3>Then he stops, opening his eyes and staring at his new path. With a steady march, Palmer goes where God says.</h3> <a name="flowers"></a> <h2>INT- MICHELLE'S APARTMENT- DAY</h2> <h3>In an apartment that's more of a jungle of knickknacks, the bed writhes to a screeching alarm. From a womb of blankets MICHELLE curls and falls and crashes, her cries a whimper of grogginess.</h3> <h2>INT- MICHELLE'S BATHROOM- DAY</h2> <h3>On the toilet, MICHELLE warms up her voice in a menagerie of moans and calls.</h3> <h3>She is up and rinsing her face, staring herself down in the mirror.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> You can do this.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- MICHELLE'S APARTMENT- DAY</h2> <h3>Grabbing her Demo CD, "Dreams of Flowers," MICHELLE is out the door.</h3> <h2>EXT- COFFEEHOUSE- DAY</h2> <h3>Her little HONDA jolting to a stop, MICHELLE is out, binders in arm and a bag over shoulder. Ducking and dodging PEOPLE, she rushes into the coffeehouse.</h3> <h3>Never once does she notice the man at the corner: straight as a board, filthy, with stains of murder so old they're black.</h3> <h3>PALMER.</h3> <h3>His eyes are on her. Watching as that insidious HUM grinds into a howl, marking his prize.</h3> <h2>INT- COFFEEHOUSE- DAY</h2> <h3>Easing past an escaping COUPLE, PALMER enters the fly infested coffeehouse. It's a nice place, minus the bugs: minus the many bugs.</h3> <h3>PEOPLE are leaving, beaten by the buzzing swarm.</h3> <h3>All except MICHELLE, who keeps her dharma centered as she reads, ignoring the prancing, crawling specks.</h3> <h3>Palmer spots her and drifts in. His odor makes the customers gawk and stare: many an audience as he reaches her table and sits.</h3> <h3>Michelle looks up, finding him scanning the crowd.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Excuse me. Hello?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>She smacks the table.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> (cont'd)<br> Hey!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Now she has his attention. Now the flies are getting to her.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> (cont'd)<br> I'm sitting here.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Want to know why there's so many flies in here?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Gazing down his bum motif, she scoffs.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Maybe it's you.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>From the kitchen, a twitching EMPLOYEE stumbles to them, bagel knife clenched in a shaky fist.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> The celestial is energy. That energy attracts. The flies just don't know any better.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Huh?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>That employee is getting closer.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> It means that the soul in here is no small timer.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Okay?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Excuse me.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>In an instant, he and the employee charge each other. In the next instant, Palmer has gutted him.</h3> <h3>To gasps and shouts, the man drops.</h3> <h3>Everyone is an onlooker now, even Michelle. Except one WOMAN who instead leaps high in a horror shrill. Whipping aside, his blade slices. Her head flies.</h3> <h3>Next PATRON: same scream, same wild attack.</h3> <h3>But Palmer grabs this flailing, hell-struck girl. Hand clasping her face, he performs his brand of exorcism.</h3> <h3>Expecting blood to spew and souls to come, Palmer is blind sided when this girl instead explodes. Left staggering, left dumbfounded, he can only stare at his gory hands.</h3> <h3>That didn't go right.</h3> <h3>That unholy spirit is in the next PERSON, and he's coming. Exorcisms aside, Palmer just starts carving, hitting one patron after another.</h3> <h3>Like a hot potato, this possessing spirit is leaping from body to body, keeping the fight up.</h3> <h3>Now a screaming mob, people desperately cling to frenzied loved ones, only to be beaten and left behind: the taken body charging head first into steel.</h3> <h3>In the mayhem, Michelle tries to slip away.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Don't run.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He dodges the next attacker. She runs.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> No! They're after you!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- COFFEEHOUSE- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE is on the street in a flash. Slinging her pack, crashing through PEDESTRIANS, she's racing for her life.</h3> <h3>And one MAN, for no reason other than an invading soul, chases her.</h3> <h3>PALMER bursts from the coffee house, leaping over the railing and into pursuit.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>Through the horde of PEOPLE, MICHELLE is screaming, the MAN at her heels. But PALMER is right behind.</h3> <h3>He jumps the man, being thrown in an explosion of blood and flesh.</h3> <h3>Looking up, he spots a newly possessed WOMAN racing for Michelle. And he's charging again.</h3> <h3>With a machete whack, Palmer has her down just to see the next PERSON continue the chase immediately.</h3> <h3>He almost nabs Michelle, but she manages to skid into an alley. Palmer goes to cut them off.</h3> <h2>EXT- ALLEY- DAY</h2> <h3>Screaming, stumbling, MICHELLE is fending off the demonic MAN. But he's on her, almost getting his way.</h3> <h3>Some DUDES appear from around the corner, ready to be heroes.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DUDE 1<br> Hey!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>From the other corner comes PALMER. Flying by, his machete nabs the man's skull, knocking him into a whirl. And, using the defunct exorcism as a weapon, he grabs the man's face, making his flesh burst.</h3> <h3>The body splatters to a pile and the Dudes shuffle with thoughts of action. Then one of them charges.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DUDE 1<br> Dude, wait! Shit.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He goes to save his possessed friend. But Palmer slashes them both. Hitting the wall, Dude 1 holds his intestines.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DUDE 1<br> (cont'd)<br> Fuck.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>No apologies from Palmer, he just takes his head.</h3> <h3>Now he turns to Michelle, looming over her as she trips into garbage.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> No. No. You don't want me.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Not you.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He decks her, stealing the bag, letting the trash swallow her.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Your bag.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The howls echo down the bricks. The Rogue is coming back. He goes.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>BILLY SHEEN GATES ascends from his BMW, adorning his cell phone like a halo.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BILLY<br> Yeah, by the end of the day, ten million dollars. By who? By me.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He laughs, not seeing PALMER when he rams him into the car. A head into the roof, a toss to the ground, and Billy's down with Palmer racing off in his car.</h3> <h2>INT- BMW- DAY</h2> <h3>PALMER swerves through traffic only to be hit by a SUV. He sees the window, the WOMAN's dead face on the wheel, and the MAN diving into his windshield.</h3> <h3>He crashes in, Palmer exploding him with a touch. But new hands grab him. The new POSSESSY trying to drag Palmer out.</h3> <h3>Another touch, another burst, and Palmer is escaping.</h3> <h2>EXT- INTERSECTION- DAY</h2> <h3>A WOMAN sprints to catch PALMER, but he's already too far. Watching him disappear, she collapses: the Rogue gone, her body dead and discarded.</h3> <h2>EXT- RESIDENTIAL BACK ALLEY- DAY</h2> <h3>With only birds to hear and not a person in sight, PALMER is safe to sit and rest. Letting his chest heave, he calmly eyeballs a squirrel watching him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> What's your problem?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>To that, it squeaks and pounces.</h3> <h3>Ripping the adorable devil off, Palmer smashes it into the pavement, squashing the thing whole.</h3> <h3>And then he looks: a dozen squirrels are staring, a dozen squirrels snarling ravenous.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> You got to be kidding me.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- RESIDENTIAL BACK ALLEY- DAY</h2> <h3>Swarmed in deadly fluff, PALMER flays about, tearing monster upon cuddly monster from himself.</h3> <h3>He puts the last one against the wall. To its hiss, it pops.</h3> <h3>Run down and ticked, Palmer thinks, scanning the apartment building adjacent.</h3> <h2>INT- APARTMENT BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>Knocking off the knob with a hammer, PALMER enters the building, heading up the stairs with a plan.</h3> <h2>INT- APARTMENT HALL- DAY</h2> <h3>PALMER finds the door he wants and knocks. A GIRL opens it. Dressed in short, loose clothes, Palmer can see exactly what she is: young, weak.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>GIRL<br> Yeah.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He barges in.</h3> <h3>And slams them both inside.</h3> <h2>INT- ROOM- DAY</h2> <h3>The GIRL backs away. But she's not scared. Instead, she just watches PALMER lock the door and waits, working a strategy.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> I need your help.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He glances at her, thinking a move. It's to shuffle and turn his back on her. It is then that she snarls a smile and takes her chance, leaping for him.</h3> <h3>But Palmer knows it's coming. He catches her, throws her to the ground, and traps her underneath.</h3> <h3>Hands clasping her face, he holds her tight and keeps the Rogue in.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Stay in there. Stay in there.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Like a wild pup, she squirms under his weight, clawing his back, howling to an internal spiritual battle she's losing.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Come on, try and take me on.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>But, determined, she still fights: scratching and writhing, desperate to slither away. But it can't be done. Already weak, she can only hold firm in stalemate.</h3> <h3>Biting her own moan, she steadies her shivers, and leers confident to Palmer's breaths.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>GIRL<br> Let go.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Come out.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>GIRL<br> Six thousand souls strong in me, I'm not going to be taken by some cheap holy roller.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He smiles and presses, making her seize, the last of her strength dying down to whimpers and pants. Palmer whispers close.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> So much for six grand. Why don't you just come out? Fall into his embrace.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>But she's dead. It's escaped again.</h3> <h3>Punching the floor, Palmer shouts his rage. Throwing the girl aside, he hits the wall, brooding.</h3> <h3>In the quiet, he slips the CD from the pack, reading the "Dream of Flowers" label.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> All that for this.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>But, hearing the HUM, his gaze sees past the CD and into space.</h3> <h2>EXT- ALLEY- DAY</h2> <h3>From the trash, a hand appears. It fumbles around, finally grabbing a rail and pulling herself, MICHELLE, out.</h3> <h3>She stumbles onto the street, finding FORENSIC TECHNICIANS examining the two DUDES. They ignore her, except for one.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TECH<br> Yeah, the coast's clear, you can come out now.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He chuckles as another TECH approaches.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE's eyes are checked by a PARAMEDIC while a COP takes her statement. She slaps the Medic's hand away.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> I'm fine.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MEDIC<br> You have a concussion.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> He stole my bag.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>COP<br> I got that.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> He was after me. Don't you get that?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The cop tries to answer but phases out. Pinching his bridge, he recoups but dazes again. There's something in the air, a HUM, digging into his brain.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> (cont'd)<br> Are you listening to me?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>COP<br> Yeah... say it again.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> They... were...</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The HUM screeches into him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>COP<br> Look, you're lucky to be alive. Just... Make a statement at the station.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He stumbles to the rest of the dead, holding his head, leaving Michelle to brood and stare at a DOG methodically staring back at her.</h3> <h2>INT- ROOM- DAY</h2> <h3>PALMER, watching the air, is watching them: Michelle, the dog. He gets it.</h3> <h3>Ramming the CD back into the back, he's up.</h3> <h2>INT- APARTMENT BUIDLING- DAY</h2> <h3>COPS enter, guns drawn, eyeballing the broken knob.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>COP<br> Yeah, somebody busted the knob. It might be him.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Hearing the thuds, they spot PALMER racing down the third floor open hall.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>COP<br> (cont'd)<br> I got him... heading to your twenty.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Reaching the window at full speed, Palmer crashes through with out a second glance.</h3> <h2>EXT- APARTMENT BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>Shards twinkling with his fall, there's no grace in PALMER's three-story dive. He just smacks the pavement.</h3> <h3>What is supernatural is that he is up and running without skipping a beat.</h3> <h3>A COP blocks his path, taking aim.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>COP<br> Stop!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Palmer keeps coming, letting the bullets pierce in. He rams the Cop, pinning him against a dumpster.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You God?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>COP<br> What?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Then fuck you.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Hoisting him up, he trashes the Cop: dropping him into the bin, letting the lid slam.</h3> <h3>Again, Palmer is off.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>A WHITE BOY steps out of his LEXUS, with yet another cell phone tumor.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BOY<br> Don't sweat, dog. We'll do lunch.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He too does not see PALMER when he rams him into the car. Whipped and kicked, the Boy is gone and Palmer is in his Lexus and flying, CRUISERS not far behind.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>CRUISERS right behind him, PALMER races the LEXUS through traffic.</h3> <h2>INT- LEXUS- DAY</h2> <h3>Upon reaching an alley, PALMER kisses his fingers and waves.</h3> <h2>EXT- ALLEY- DAY</h2> <h3>The first TWO CRUISERS swerve into each other. It makes a roadblock and the rest of the cops crash right into it.</h3> <h3>The LEXUS speeds on.</h3> <h2>INT- BAR- DAY</h2> <h3>Amidst dim light and music, MICHELLE takes another shot, leering at the BARTENDER pouring.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> That CD was my life: just go to the producer, "perform a little," and that's it. But no, some bum has to fall from the sky and take it. I put everything into that CD and now poof - gone.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BARTENDER<br> Maybe God has it in for you.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Thanks.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BARTENDER<br> Could you let go of my arm?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He gestures to her death grip on his sleeve. She lets go.</h3> <h3>Behind them, just some guy (let's call him BOB) sways up and sways to the bathroom.</h3> <h2>INT- BATHROOM- DAY</h2> <h3>In a bathroom speckled with retro ads, BOB takes a leak. Bob rinses his face. Bob looks in the mirror and sees a glowing, twisted holocaust victim.</h3> <h3>Whipping around, Bob tenses for a monster. But none stands behind. All empty, all safe... because it's coming out of the mirror.</h3> <h3>Spider hands lashing bony lines through his skull, a Rogue, the ROGUE, takes Bob in a demonic embrace.</h3> <h2>INT- BAR- DAY</h2> <h3>Getting lost in her depression, MICHELLE doodles in the table's puddles. It's a rose. She smiles.</h3> <h2>INT- BATHROOM- DAY</h2> <h3>In the stall, ethereal slugs and ooze slurp into BOB's mouth. His fighting hands lose and drop.</h3> <h3>And then Bob stands again: no, not really Bob. Holding its hurting soul, Bob � the Rogue, hisses to God above and to Palmer.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BOB<br> Oh, you son of a bitch, we'll dance again. We will dance again.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He punches the sheet metal wall, letting the echo sound his rage.</h3> <h2>INT- BAR- DAY</h2> <h3>Stumbling from the bathroom, BOB goes right ahead and plops himself next to MICHELLE, getting to the point.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BARTENDER<br> You okay, buddy?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BOB<br> Fine.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He turns a pained smile to Michelle.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BOB<br> (cont'd)<br> Hey.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>That's okay. She knows what to do.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> What car do you drive? How much do you make? And looking at you, I'd say none of the above. So fuck off.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BOB<br> Not what I'm here for.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>His grin wide, Bob's hand clamps to her neck and squeezes.</h3> <h3>But the bartender, being heroic, beats his head with a bottle and takes him to the counter.</h3> <h3>Again, Michelle runs.</h3> <h3>A gruesome gouge to the bartender's eye and Bob is free and after her.</h3> <h2>EXT- BAR- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE falls out of the bar, BOB almost on top of her. She gets away but stops, jumping out of the way.</h3> <h3>And Bob sees why, being run over by the LEXUS.</h3> <h3>The car stops, reversing over him. Then it drives back over him. Then it reverses again. Fourth time's a charm and a fifth for good measure, and PALMER is rolling the car to Michelle.</h3> <h3>He throws the door open.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Get in.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>She shakes her head.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Look over there.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Staggering back to his feet is Bob. Engulfed in awe, Michelle doesn't notice Palmer grabbing her belt.</h3> <h3>She flips, scurrying to the ground: clawing asphalt, screaming, kicking Palmer's face. And Bob, though swaggering like a rag doll, is getting closer.</h3> <h3>So, thinking a quick prayer, Palmer stops her from moving at all. He yanks her stiff body in and drives off, leaving a panting Bob to fall to his knees - beaten again.</h3> <a name="prophecy"></a> <h2>INT- LEXUS- DAY</h2> <h3>PALMER pulls the rigid MICHELLE upright in her seat.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Don't worry, I got him bad our last encounter. I doubt he'll be jumping bodies anytime soon.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>No response from her, just a gawked fish stare.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> If I lift it, will you behave?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>There's only that dummy glare. So, a wave of his hand and Michelle heaves, slumping back in both relief and shock.</h3> <h3>Going into her pack, Palmer returns her CD.</h3> <h3>Taking it, Michelle goes pale, speechless. And then she just cries.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> For Christ's sake.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He's punched... And again... And again... And she just pummels away.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Stop!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>She does, squeezing her tearing face.</h3> <h2>EXT- ALLEY- DAY</h2> <h3>The LEXUS pulls over, PALMER getting out, opening MICHELLE's door.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Don't run.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>She complies by not moving at all. He tugs her. She slaps him away and storms off.</h3> <h3>Sighing, Palmer follows, grabbing her, getting smacked for it.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> I can put it back.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>She stops.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Tell my why?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He thinks about it.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> (cont'd)<br> You just ruined my life. You could at least tell me why?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Going to the trash, he turns up two crates and sits, offering her the other. So... She sits.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> What attacked you was a rogue - a rogue spirit. A very old one: about six thousand souls strong. A legion.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Her eyes crease, focusing on Palmer. For her, for now, something's up.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> You mean a demon?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> No, none of that Catholic clap- trap.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Of course, what was I thinking.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>A look from Palmer: she shrugs into quiet.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> These things were very human, once. They're sinners: souls of the damned who...escaped.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Escaped? Like from hell? God, so much for eternal damnation.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You want me to talk? Explain: that's what you asked for, right?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Sorry. God, dude, you need to seriously kill that tension. I don't know, get drunk, get laid, someth...</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>His stare is piercing: one of sheer mad horrid death.</h3> <h3>Michelle shuts up; crosses her arms - shuts up.</h3> <h3>And Palmer continues.</h3> <h3>He points up.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> From God: hiding in the bodies of the living.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>A breath is taken, Palmer surrendering the sad truth.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> But not all of them hide so much. There are some, a handful of trillions, who have formed a united resistance. It's an uprising that's not at all apart of the plan.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>To that she scoffs, sending a coy smirk to Palmer.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> God's plan?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Again, his eyes fire up.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Yes: God's plan.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> (cont'd)<br> Right. And you're just a regular saint.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>His eyes squint, giving an answer that's more of an "f-you."</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> I'm God's garbage man. I don't have to be nice.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>But his stare sees past her.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> They know we're here.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>She follows his focus to a rat. It just sits there, very still, watching them.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> It's a rat.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>A BUICK flies by the alley behind her.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Ever seen one stare like that?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The Buick backs up.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Okay, so where is he?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Right there.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Blasting through trash, BOB, in the Buick charges them. Grabbing Michelle, Palmer races them out.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>Exploding from the alley, PALMER and MICHELLE are barely missed by BOB's BUICK. It swerves around and aims for them again.</h3> <h3>Palmer pulls her around the corner and they run, BOB rampaging after them on the sidewalk. But, to fate's hand, a TRUCK pulls out, catching the Buick in a crushing thud.</h3> <h3>Leading Michelle to a HONDA, Palmer punches through the window, yanking her in. But, looking down the street, she spots a GUY on his cell phone. He's seeing red.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>GUY<br> That's my car!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> He's calling the police.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Suddenly, the guy seizes his chest, keeling over. Her gawk turns to Palmer.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Don't look at me, I'm not God.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- BUICK- DAY</h2> <h3>BOB works the Buick free, but only to see them fleeing in the HONDA.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE holds on as PALMER races through traffic.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Gods, souls, celestial coups, what the hell does any of this have to do with me?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You're going to prevent a murder.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He touches the CD in her death grip.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> With that.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> My "Flowers."</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Twenty years from now there'll be an assassination of a very important person in God's plan. He's well protected. The Rogues can't touch him. But God can't necessarily touch people. To keep himself hidden, he has to control things by sequence of events only.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He skids around another corner.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> The Rogues know this, so they've set up a living human being to kill the target by his own free will. It's a play of events. That CD is God's kink in their plan.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>A CRUISER swings up behind the HONDA.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE looks to the sirens.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Cop.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Kissing his fingers, PALMER shoots a miracle at them.</h3> <h2>INT- CRUISER- DAY</h2> <h3>The DRIVER convulses, his PARTNER taking the wheel as the man foams.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>The CRUISER crashes. A PERSON mechanically watching them and marking the HONDA. He grins.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE ignores the crash and, instead, probes deeper into PALMER's prophecy. It is about her.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Go on.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> When the killer comes, the target will be listening to your CD. It'll be your words, "your life is yours," that stops him.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Yeah.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> When he hears it, he'll see himself as a pawn, and just walk away. The assassination will be stopped.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> It's that good?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Now Palmer is smiling.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> No. Frankly, it sucks. But God can put a stupid CD in at anytime. So, no matter when the Rogues schedule the murder, it's almost impossible to take that CD out of the equation. Not unless they stop it from ever getting to the target.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He points at Michelle.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Or kill it before it's made.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Though she doesn't believe it...</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> So I'm going to save the world?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>She wants to believe it.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Sure.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>It's not all she wants. But she goes for it anyway.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Let's do it.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Good, because it's about to get hairy.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He spots yet another random PERSON gazing at them amidst the lively onlookers.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> They're here.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Who?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> The other Rogues: keeping low, but they're here.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> There's more?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> And we'll see how long they stay out of this.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <a name="cars"></a> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>Speeding up to the HONDA's side is the BUICK. It rams in, locking the vehicles together.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>PALMER struggles to recover while MICHELLE holds on.</h3> <h2>INT- BUICK- DAY</h2> <h3>Like a wild monkey, BOB kicks his windshield, working it loose.</h3> <h2>INT- CRUISER- DAY</h2> <h3>TWO COPS spot the HONDA and BUICK coming.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>COP 1<br> That's them.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>But Cop 2 says nothing, just runs out to the careening cars.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>COP 2, not stopping his sprint, rips off his belt and throws it through the BUICK's windshield. Both HONDA and Buick hit him, launching him into a dying twirl.</h3> <h3>The cars swerve away, COP 1 firing at them with a demonic scream.</h3> <h2>INT- BUICK- DAY</h2> <h3>Tearing the pistol free, BOB smiles a scowl to Palmer and starts blasting.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>Shoving MICHELLE's head down, PALMER takes the missiles, fighting the wheel.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>The HONDA finally snaps from the BUICK and spins away, escaping.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE's head pops up, shouting.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> You said they'd stay low!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Maybe!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- INTERSECTION- DAY</h2> <h3>CARS wait at the light. But then, in sudden unison, the PEOPLE look down the street. Their cars swerve into each other with organized efficiency, blocking the entire road from building to building.</h3> <h3>It's a trap and before the HONDA can swerve around, a swarm of pedestrians consume it.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>HANDS smash in, grabbing MICHELLE. She fights - screams. But PALMER is at them, poking with his death touch.</h3> <h3>In a spray of bloody grease, all hitting Michelle, they release. She's saved, left petrified in red slime.</h3> <h2>EXT- INTERSECTION- DAY</h2> <h3>The HONDA is speeding away. The PEOPLE, all at once, fall: leaving behind gelatin SOULS alone and exposed.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE looks ahead and tenses, PALMER keeping his focus on the road.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Cops!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Wrong again.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>FOUR CRUISERS crash together, the COPS lurching out. With shrieks and howls, they shoot the HONDA. </h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>Ramming MICHELLE down again, PALMER maneuvers through the storm of bullets, getting them out of there.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>With shots sparking, the HONDA escapes again. But the BUICK is on their tail.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE leaps up, this time hitting PALMER. He shoves her against the seat though, moving her aside to watch BOB.</h3> <h3>Side by side, their bumpers are butting, nudging each other to keep up the fight.</h3> <h3>A smile. Bob aims.</h3> <h3>No help from Palmer, Michelle dives.</h3> <h3>And the bullets fly.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>The HONDA dives, ramming the BUICK. They part and fly, slamming back in screeching metal.</h3> <h3>Dodging CARS, hitting PEOPLE, nothing slows them down.</h3> <h2>INT- BUICK- DAY</h2> <h3>With one hand, BOB reloads, watching the HONDA skid onto the freeway.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>The BUICK spins, trailing smoke in pursuit.</h3> <h2>EXT- FREEWAY- DAY</h2> <h3>The HONDA weaves at an alarming rate, the BUICK right behind, gun flashing.</h3> <h3>Onto the shoulder, the cars are butt to nose.</h3> <h3>And it's coming - traffic jam.</h3> <h2>EXT- OFF RAMP- DAY</h2> <h3>Slicing around a car, the HONDA and BUICK ram and smash to the streets.</h3> <h3>Through the light, they pound by screeching CARS - two torn machines rampaging a path.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>Sugar coated with glass and blood, MICHELLE stays clamped to PALMER's leg - still compelled to talk as bullets zip by.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Where are you going?!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>A bullet pierces his cheeks. He doesn't mind.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You'll see.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>The HONDA swerves into suburbia, the BUICK snipping after them.</h3> <h3>Again, the wheeled hulks are bumping and grinding.</h3> <h2>INT- BUICK- DAY</h2> <h3>But BOB is inspired. He swerves, diving down an opposing street.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>Moments later, PALMER sees the BUICK twist in front of them. From the road's other end, it's aiming right for the Honda.</h3> <h3>Bob is playing chicken.</h3> <h3>MICHELLE sits up and sees the game. Hands fumbling, she snaps on her seat belt, clenching everything she can.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> What's your name?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Palmer.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Palmer, stop. Please turn.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You see that kid?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>She looks.</h3> <h2>EXT- SUBURBIA- DAY</h2> <h3>There, on the sidewalk, is DANNY. He's only twelve and the lone audience to this ensuing mayhem.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE is lost in the kid, confused. PALMER keeps going.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> That's the target.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>His eyes snap to Bob's BUICK.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> And he's already too close.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- BUICK- DAY</h2> <h3>BOB keeps his scowl on the HONDA, not noticing DANNY watching. But he does when his face flips left, then right. And then, suddenly, Bob's whole body explodes into one huge supernatural spasm.</h3> <h3>The wheel spins. The car skids.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>MICHELLE watches the BUICK spin out of control. But PALMER isn't stopping. He's speeding up.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Palmer. Palmer!!!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Oh have some faith.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- SUBURBIA- DAY</h2> <h3>At full speed, the HONDA spears the BUICK, stabbing in like a knife.</h3> <h2>INT- HONDA- DAY</h2> <h3>The housing implodes, sucking in metal around PALMER and MICHELLE. But it doesn't touch them.</h3> <h3>Instead, it rolls by, almost ignoring their bodies. But the Buick's roof is slicing in, sliding right to Michelle's wide eyes.</h3> <h3>With that awful squeal it grinds to her, easing a jagged guillotine right to her nose. And just when that razor edge kisses her skin, it stops.</h3> <h3>Having surged to silence, it's done. It's done, having spared Michelle or Palmer even a scratch.</h3> <h3>With a casual spit, Palmer slips out, taking the CD, leaving Michelle to stare at the once deadly roof.</h3> <h2>EXT- SUBURBIA- DAY</h2> <h3>Frozen stiff, DANNY watches that maniac bum, PALMER, rise from the wreck. Bloody, scored, he looms over the boy a stoic monster.</h3> <h3>Danny doesn't move - he can't.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> April fourteenth, twenty twenty- eight.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The boy's gaze drifts to the burning cars. Palmer smacks him with the CD.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Listen up, kid. That night, you play this. Got it? Or I'll find you.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Slapping the "Dream of Flowers" in his hand, Palmer is walking away, finished.</h3> <h3>Passing the BUICK, Palmer peers in. Inside, BOB is still, slumped. He touches the man's shoulder - nothing.</h3> <h3>The Rogue again has escaped.</h3> <h3>Sniffing the air, Palmer scans the houses. That new body is close. But to the Rogue's own luck, Palmer is left in a mystery.</h3> <h3>The battle was won. The enemy lost. But the bitter truth remains.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="400" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>This Rogue lives on.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> </td> </tr> </table> </center> </body>