God Dog Chpt. 3

<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="#assassins">Assassins</a>...<a href="#revolution">Revolution</a>...<a href="#goddog">God Dog</a></h3> <br></br> </td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="730"> <tr> <td> <a name="assassins"></a> <h3>The horizon is flat. The road a straight line: only one place to go, only one line to follow.</h3> <h3>And PALMER is walking it, steady and true: an angel of death with eyes for only two.</h3> <h3>Jimmy and Michelle.</h3> <h2>EXT- GAS STATION- DAY</h2> <h3>At a desert side, a station sits in the dust of nowhere. But, in contrast to this roadside desolation, is a MINI-VAN of affluence. And, from it, they come: groomed, Aryan, valuable MOTHER and FATHER of fine Christian upstanding. They're fueling, stretching, letting their 2.5 KIDS run chattering circles.</h3> <h3>This scene, surreal yet pristine, is swallowed by the flapping, ragged coat of PALMER.</h3> <h3>And like any real predator: he comes with a smile.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You smell like good Christians.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The Father turns to Palmer, his joy dropping at the sight of him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>FATHER<br> Well, we are Christians.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Then you're brothers to me.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>FATHER<br> You need help?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MOTHER<br> Who is he?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>FATHER<br> I don't know.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Do you believe in divine providence?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>FATHER<br> What?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Just checking.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Out comes the machete.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>Back at the wreck, TIM remains where he was, still enough for a picture. Pictures that are being taken by a scruffy, happy DUDE.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DUDE<br> This is so awesome.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Snap after snap, he focuses on Tim's eyes: those fogged eyes of the dead, eyes that look to him. Grabbing the Dude's shirt, Tim stabs.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DUDE<br> (cont'd)<br> Oh dude.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>And again.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DUDE<br> (cont'd)<br> Oh man.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Again, then a bunch more.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DUDE<br> (cont'd)<br> Oh.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The Dude keels over, Tim scavenging.</h3> <h3>Keys.</h3> <h3>At the gravel shoulder, a BUG VW starts and peels out, racing against time.</h3> <h2>EXT- SURBURBIA- DAY</h2> <h3>A blot smearing serenity, the war-torn GREMLIN reenters suburbia.</h3> <h2>INT- GREMLIN- DAY</h2> <h3>The place is familiar. So much, it worries MICHELLE, forcing her to keep a wary eye on the half-sleep JIMMY.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>JIMMY<br> Turn here.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Where're we going?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>JIMMY<br> It's up ahead.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Then she spies it passing above, a glimpse of understanding and horror: a cross. Up ahead, the building approaching is undeniable. Its style would be obvious to anyone.</h3> <h3>A school: a Catholic School.</h3> <h3>She slows down, already wanting answers.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> This is a school.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>It is then those drained eyes spark. That those weary lips cock. Jimmy, while the Gremlin still rolls, opens the door and dives. Like an Olympic sprinter, he's gone.</h3> <h2>EXT- SCHOOL- DAY</h2> <h3>Not even stopping the GREMLIN, MICHELLE is after the racing JIMMY. But her limp gives, the girl yelping to the ground.</h3> <h3>A helpless witness, she can only watch the boy escape inside: to fulfill his mission.</h3> <h2>INT- SCHOOL- DAY</h2> <h3>Stopping in the hall, JIMMY scans, listening. It is the school bell he hears. Like a breaking dam, uniformed SCHOOL KIDS flood the corridors.</h3> <h3>But Jimmy does not drown. Like a professional, he weaves through the crowd unhindered.</h3> <h3>But, unlike Jimmy, MICHELLE is being washed away. Still she manages to cling to a locker and search.</h3> <h3>There's Jimmy, at least his head. She grits her teeth and swims.</h3> <h2>EXT- SCHOOL- DAY</h2> <h3>Outside, the bloody MINI-VAN crashes onto the lawn, a determined and torn PALMER landing and marching.</h3> <h3>Just down the way, the BUG does the same. From it, a scattered bone TIM leaps to the school at a full-speed waddle.</h3> <h2>INT- SCHOOL- DAY</h2> <h3>From the sea of KIDS, a NUN appears before JIMMY. She's monolithic, the adolescent waves parting for her.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>NUN<br> Where's your uniform?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>From his jacket the gun comes. Into her face the bullets go.</h3> <h3>Suddenly, the tides crash, leveling flat with the screams of hundreds of youngsters.</h3> <h3>The roar, deafening, stuns Jimmy to blinking. That cold, professionalism has failed and he is left as he is: a scared kid. And, like any kid in trouble, he does that only thing.</h3> <h3>He runs.</h3> <h3>With the kids, MICHELLE too has ducked. But one kid remains standing, his inaction displaying him for all and Michelle to see - DANNY.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Hey!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>But when he sees her, he remembers her, and bolts.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> (cont'd)<br> No!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Again, she tries to chase, but the limp and the crowd makes her a flailing snail.</h3> <h2>INT- SCHOOL- DAY</h2> <h3>A crowd of PRIESTS and SECRETARIES are huddle outside the office as PALMER marches their way.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>SECRETARY<br> The police are coming.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>A Priest notices Palmer and confronts him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PRIEST<br> (cont'd)<br> Hey!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>No words. No waiting. He takes off the Priest's head. The rest scream and flee. But, A kiss and a fist, and they all fall in seizure.</h3> <h3>They are done as Palmer passes.</h3> <h2>INT- SCHOOL- DAY</h2> <h3>Fighting the KIDS, MICHELLE spots DANNY again. But so does JIMMY.</h3> <h3>At the sight of him, Jimmy's panic twitches away. For whatever horrors the Rogues put in him, Danny is their trigger.</h3> <h3>Now, worse than before, Jimmy's eyes sharpen, chilled to lethal focus. Hand creaking tight on the gun, Jimmy is on the move: dodging, shoving.</h3> <h3>Jimmy is going in for the kill.</h3> <h3>And Michelle is still a helpless witness.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Run!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Confused, scared by Jimmy's dead stare, Danny works back to Michelle. Kicking and punching, she carves a path no matter what.</h3> <h3>Yet, it is now Danny who's stuck, trapped between frighten children.</h3> <h3>But not Jimmy: he slides right through and right up to Danny.</h3> <h3>To trembling eyes, the revolver is raised. The trigger is touched.</h3> <h3>And Michelle is in time, slamming Jimmy into the lockers.</h3> <h3>The shot rings high, hitting ceiling. And now this boy monster is attacking her. Already, she's taken into a twirl, his teeth clamping on her breast.</h3> <h3>Though screaming, though kicking and ramming, her hands will not lose that gun. But Jimmy, this kid, is stronger. He rams back, kneeing her hard, putting Michelle to the floor.</h3> <h3>Now, looming above, humanity suspended, Jimmy is forcing the barrel back down upon her. Despite her fight, she can't stop the revolver's steady descent to her face.</h3> <h3>Jimmy is winning. Unbelievable as it is, she will be dead.</h3> <h3>Michelle has only one chance: one hope to live.</h3> <h3>She has to sing.</h3> <h3>Eyes on Jimmy, with steel caressing her cheek, Michelle whimpers up her talent.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Your life is... yours.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>It's a note she holds, letting it sink through Jimmy's wavering gaze. Her voice cracks to a whisper, finding her self in silence with Jimmy.</h3> <h3>But in the quiet, something miraculous has happened: the boy has stopped.</h3> <h3>That monster stare, his killer eyes, are tearing. Michelle has fulfilled the prophecy. This assassin, Jimmy, now has a doubt.</h3> <h3>Still, though, it's not a kind one. Shaking to, Jimmy finds Michelle and smacks her back with the gun. With raging insanity, the boy flees screaming: this divine battle eating his mind alive.</h3> <h3>Jimmy disappears, leaving a hurt Michelle with Danny and his snake eyes - literal snake eyes. Her mouth drops. Getting it, the boy fixes himself, blinking those reptilian slits back to normal.</h3> <h3>Still, she can't look away.</h3> <h2>INT- SCHOOL- DAY</h2> <h3>Sneakers squeaking down an empty hall, JIMMY squeals to a halt. There's something he has to do.</h3> <h3>Smash his head into a locker: just a few cracking dents.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>JIMMY<br> Stop!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Or that's what would've been said, if the word didn't shatter into the worse of tortured wails. For Jimmy, this celestial pain is real, making him shriek into a standing fetal curl.</h3> <h3>And then it's heard, a thumping between rattled breaths: foot steps.</h3> <h3>Squinted gaze twisting up; Jimmy finds his nastiest of nightmares. Marred boots drumming from the hall's other end, he's coming - PALMER.</h3> <h3>The Rogues have calmed in his head, seeming to seep out with Jimmy's gushing forehead. Or, instead, they're making way - because at the other, other end is TIM.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> Run, you little shit.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Jimmy is gone, out the door, and Tim is blocking his path. The men are strutting, pulling weapons, aiming to collide.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> God's dog yet again. Think heaven's in store for you? You're a quick fix: a tool to be used and discarded. Your fate is in God's belly 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 act like I have a choice.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> Free will's a wonder. Too bad you gave yours up.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>They're in range and both ignite. Dirty steel flying and spinning, the two mangle each other. But, giving that up, they take hold and ram themselves into the lockers.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> So, what was the price for your soul?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Palmer slams him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> Piece of the universe? Seventy virgins?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Tim is spun, smashed into more steel.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> A little extra mortality?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Ticked, Palmer pounds him on every word.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You... can't... beat... God!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> What if you could?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Punching, he knocks Tim's head off its spine. Tim throws himself free, snapping the skull back on. It falls the other way.</h3> <h3>Palmer is running. With a howl, Tim chases, racing right into a column.</h3> <h3>Alone in the hall, Tim flops on his ass. But he's not beaten yet, smiling lopsided to the air, he calls in reinforcements.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> Stall him.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Again, the air complies by screeching out the door.</h3> <h2>EXT- SCHOOL- DAY</h2> <h3>Almost falling from a side door, MICHELLE is speeding with a mighty hobble. In the distance, she spots JIMMY.</h3> <h3>And just arriving in view is PALMER, charging straight after him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Oh, God.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>She follows.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>Leaping and soaring through the CROWD, JIMMY is racing hard.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>Seeing some SKATERS, PALMER crashes into them, stealing a board. They chase.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>KID<br> Hey!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Jumping the rail, Palmer slides the metal, launching himself into wheeled flight. The kids stop with some awe: not at the stunt, but the machete.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Power of the Lord, kids! Praise God!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He's off.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>JIMMY stops to take a breath, but, hearing those little wheels, he feels it. Something is coming.</h3> <h3>From around the corner it shows - skateboard action PALMER. Skating with ease, he traverses the PEOPLE, heading right for him.</h3> <h3>So, really fast, Jimmy runs.</h3> <h3>Everything around a blur, the chase is pounding. Jimmy dodges and ducks. Palmer shoves and soars, scrapping trashcans and benches like he has wings.</h3> <h3>Taking a corner, Jimmy skids into vanishing.</h3> <h3>Board spinning away, Palmer is on foot and catching up.</h3> <h2>EXT- MARKET SQUARE- DAY</h2> <h3>PALMER stops. Faced before him is a CROWD: a wall to wall packed enormity of populace. And Jimmy has been swallowed by it.</h3> <h3>So, closing his eyes, Palmer sniffs the air. Taking a moment, he finds his mark and storms.</h3> <h3>JIMMY looks back through the people, seeing Palmer come right for him. Squirming and digging, he fights to flee.</h3> <h3>Palmer is almost on top of him. But there's an obstacle, moving with him, blocking his way. It's a LITTLE GIRL no older than eight.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>GIRL<br> Leave him alone, mister.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Blowing her off with a scowl, he pushes past. But the girl bites his hand. He flings her away, that little girl clinging to him again.</h3> <h3>Little hands unzipping his pants, that girl is jabbing a finger into his mutilated crotch.</h3> <h3>Palmer howls. Rips her from him. Still that damn girl scales his back, biting his neck. Now the crowd watches as he spins with her, ramming her into tables and awnings.</h3> <h3>It's a show... that ends with one whack - the machete. In his rage, Palmer has done that, one whack, right into her skull.</h3> <h3>Yanking the blade out with his heel, Palmer realizes the crowd surrounding and the silence. Seeing the faces, he can feel it: the dead calm before hell.</h3> <h3>It starts with one MAN, whose growing whimpers echo over all.</h3> <h3>That squeak bursts into a cry; a cry that pounds into war. Fists clenched into shaking, he storms Palmer. Not even the blade can stop him. The tearing man is on him, punching so hard Palmer is flipped.</h3> <h3>Still, Palmer is the best of the best as blessed by God. With a couple of spraying slashes, the man is taken, landing dead and red.</h3> <h3>But this only begins the worse. For, at the sight of a dead father and daughter, the crowd shrieks, surging at once for Palmer.</h3> <h3>Blades up, Palmer is trampled, washed under hundreds of attacking hands. It's a mob, all ready to kill. Utensils - knives, forks, reversed spoons - pierce him from every angle. With everything they have, even if it takes forever, they will tear him apart.</h3> <h3>Even his miracles can only stop so many which foam and drop.</h3> <h3>The only escape is to carve.</h3> <h3>Person after person, he's slaughtering a path. One WOMAN bops him with her purse. He jabs a knife in her neck. The hands are at him. The bodies are sucking him in. But he fights, carving his way through man, woman, and child.</h3> <h3>Crawling up a stack of boxes, Palmer manages to find a window and pull himself in and away.</h3> <h2>INT- BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>The PEOPLE crash in below. With their echoing stampede raging upward, PALMER runs.</h3> <h2>EXT- BUILDING TOP- DAY</h2> <h3>Bursting onto the roof, PALMER wastes no time charging right for the edge.</h3> <h2>EXT- BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>High above the PEOPLE, PALMER flies, sailing over the alley. Long enough for them to see and follow.</h3> <h2>EXT- BUILDING TOP- DAY</h2> <h3>But PALMER is already jumping to the next building. He races across and leaps to another.</h3> <h2>EXT- BUILDING TOP- DAY</h2> <h3>However, what he reaches stops PALMER in his tracks.</h3> <h3>A wall: of buildings, of sky.</h3> <h3>There's nowhere to jump, and the screams of the mob are getting louder. So, from his coat, PALMER whips out his grappling rope and hooks it to the edge.</h3> <h3>He falls.</h3> <h2>EXT- BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>Plummeting, PALMER takes hold just as the rope snaps, launching him in a distant swing.</h3> <h3>Soaring, going far, he reaches out, aiming for a fire escape.</h3> <h3>Just at the end of his momentum, his hand manages to snag the rail. Leaping over, Palmer is in.</h3> <h3>Tugging fast, the hook is flung back to him. And, in supernatural perfection, it drops into his grasp.</h3> <h3>The window breaks and Palmer dives, disappearing from the just arriving MOB. They scan, assuming the wrong building and breaking in.</h3> <h2>INT- BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>PALMER listens to them ran sack another place. He's safe.</h3> <h3>Sliding down, he can now breath: breath and remove all the crap sticking out of him.</h3> <h3>Picking and flicking, Palmer finds himself a porcupine of utensils: knives, chopsticks, forks, spoons, even a spork.</h3> <h3>It's the spork that stops him. He scoffs a grin, almost chuckling.</h3> <h3>But, looking upon its handle, one fact is clear. This Godly soldier pushed people to the point of using everything they had, everything, to get rid of him.</h3> <h3>Still, though solemn, he's fine, tossing the plastic joke.</h3> <h3>He then says his prayer for the unfortunate, crossing himself with those saintly two fingers.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> R...I...</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He can't. Instead, he elbows the wall. Instead, he punches the wall. Instead, he screams.</h3> <h3>Instead, his prayer is of guilty silence. If he is now a monster, or has been, there is nothing he can do to refute it.</h3> <h3>The strength of his cold heart has run dry.</h3> <h3>Monster or saint, though, that HUM is there, calling. He doesn't look at it. He can't look at it. But he is what he is: God's dog.</h3> <h3>And so he obeys, swaying into a march, escaping into the hard comforts of his blind duties.</h3> <a name="revolution"></a> <h2>EXT- FARMER'S MARKET- DAY</h2> <h3>Stumbling out from the ON LOOKERS and wailing PEOPLE, JIMMY finds himself before MICHELLE. She grabs him. He fights. She hugs. And then he's done, crying into her shoulder.</h3> <h3>Holding him close, she keeps him turned from the carnage.</h3> <h3>But some people ignore that chaos and surround them instead. ROGUES - four of them.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>ROGUE 2<br> We need to go.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Why can't you just leave us alone?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>ROGUE 1<br> We say that all the time.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>There's no struggle. They just escort them to the car - a CAMRY.</h3> <h2>INT- CAMRY- DAY</h2> <h3>Both MICHELLE and JIMMY are pushed in next to TIM. He slouches in his seat broken and bloody but alive.</h3> <h3>He pats ROGUE 5's shoulder and they drive.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> So, what do you think of divinity at its finest?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> I don't care anymore. He's coming, kill us all, spare a few. What the hell is there to do about it?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> Yeah, didn't make the grade, back into the belly you go. Oh, the things we do for love.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>His smile comes close.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> My life counts for more than that. My life is grander than some tyrant's design. And we'll stand up to any other great oppression. But God, what can we do?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>A touch brings her eyes to his.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> What we do in any other fight... something...anything.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- JUNKYARD- NIGHT</h2> <h3>The CARS pull up to the rusted, beaten shack. ROGUE 1 loads boxes of woven metal plates and bare wire onto a truck bed. He hitches a generator to the back.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM (vo)<br> Each person we picked was very specific this time.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- GAS STATION- NIGHT</h2> <h3>ROGUE 2 fills gas tanks from the pumps and loads them into a VAN.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM (vo)<br> Each one particular in a way of killing.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- MORGUE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>ROGUE 3 hoists jugs of acid onto a gurney and rolls it out.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM (vo)<br> Fire, acid, high voltage...</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- GUN SHOP- NIGHT</h2> <h3>TIM and the ROGUES load rifles, pistols and shotguns. ROGUE 4 takes out canisters of gunpowder.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM (vo)<br> Fire power...</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- COLLECTOR'S SWORD SHOP- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Pulling the gate back, ROGUE 5 invites TIM and the ROGUES in.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM (vo)<br> Even the old fashion.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>They stand amidst an arsenal of swords, maces and axes.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM (vo)<br> If there is a way to kill him: to loosen God's grip...</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>EXT- HOUSE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>The TRUCK, VAN, CAMRY and other CARS park before a dilapidated farm house far enough in nowhere.</h3> <h3>TIM steps out with MICHELLE and JIMMY, the ROGUES flanking them.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> We'll find it tonight.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The house, the trap, is ready to be made.</h3> <h2>INT- STORE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>A bloody, torn, bitter PALMER barges past a stunned CLERK, aiming straight for the tools.</h3> <h3>Two machetes, a pack of kitchen knives, and a hand sledge hammer, and he's coming back.</h3> <h3>The Clerk eases to the shelves, Palmer finally seeing him. But he does nothing but take a satchel and stuff the tools in.</h3> <h3>Still, he looks back and thinks a moment.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You should probably call the police.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The Clerk nods and Palmer is gone.</h3> <h2>EXT- WOODS- NIGHT</h2> <h3>The rain falls. The lighting gleams. The thunder shatters. And PALMER is bare, strapping his sheaths tight.</h3> <h3>Blade in hand, eyes pointed to the wild sky above, Palmer thinks a grim prayer: the kind that should never be spoken.</h3> <h3>With smooth thrusts, the knives, the hammers, the machetes are jammed in.</h3> <h3>Trench coat flapping on like gnarled bat wings, Palmer faces the storm, flashes rattling upon him.</h3> <h3>Right or wrong: this is his time.</h3> <h2>INT- HOUST- NIGHT</h2> <h3>ROGUE 6 smashes the walls with a sledgehammer. ROGUE 1 runs cable through the holes.</h3> <h3>ROGUE 2 and 5 dig a hole in the front porch as ROGUE 4 reworks the wood.</h3> <h3>Through the cracking, drilling, and banging, MICHELLE tries to sneak JIMMY out. But ROGUE 3 and 1 block them.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>ROGUE 3<br> He'll find you.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> And what can you do?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>ROGUE 1<br> Better than you.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h2>INT- HOUSE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>ROGUES 2 and 5 reset the wood on the porch while ROGUES 4 and 6 run the last cables to the back hall.</h3> <h3>ROGUE 3 sets buckets of acid, gasoline and flares.</h3> <h3>ROGUE 1 lays chains and the copper linked metal plates across the floor.</h3> <h3>In the center of it all, TIM sits with MICHELLE and JIMMY.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> This hunter is all God has for us. That should say something. The threats, the talking up. What if? What if, like any other dictator, the omnipotence is just a shadow to keep what he has?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> What if you're falling right into his plan like any other idiot?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>This makes Tim feel jinxed. Poor timing too as a breeze hisses in. It's a wind, a Rogue, unseen as it screams by, cutting the wall above.</h3> <h3>All gawks gaze high.</h3> <h3>The scratch is one word, but it puts dread in every one.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>CARVING<br> Here</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>A glare shot to his Rogues and Tim slinks into the shadows with them.</h3> <h2>EXT- HOUSE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Out in the rain, body still, eyes searching, is PALMER. Examining the isolated house, it being a trap becomes obvious.</h3> <h3>So he goes to the back.</h3> <h2>INT- HOUSE KITCHEN- NIGHT</h2> <h3>The old knob twists, shakes then jolts from a crack. It falls. Fingers fumbling through the hole, they click the latch and the door swings open.</h3> <h3>Sliding in, sheathing the hammer and drawing the machete, PALMER skulks upon the tiles.</h3> <h3>Listening to drops splash, echoing silence along every moldy corner, Palmer slows. A black doorway is ahead, only a dim light within. For all the horrors on Earth and beyond, this is definitely one of their murky dens.</h3> <h3>But, despite the dangers waiting, Palmer still goes and enters the main room.</h3> <h2>INT- HOUSE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Across a mote of wire and plates, PALMER finds MICHELLE and JIMMY... and the body free ROGUE entangling them together.</h3> <h3>Surrounding them are shadows so deep they can conceal ambushes of any possible magnitude.</h3> <h3>Taking in the whole scope, he clicks his teeth and nods.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Okay, we'll play.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>So, foregoing caution, he marches right onto the metal. Hearing the hard magnetic hum, Palmer stalls, fidgeting to his rising hair.</h3> <h3>With a gentle swoosh it descends from the darkness, creaking its ties - a rope bound dresser swinging his way.</h3> <h3>It socks him far, sending him down to the metal plates and wires. Ceasing, Palmer crackles to thousands of surging volts, cooking him through.</h3> <h2>INT- SHADOW- NIGHT</h2> <h3>TIM watches with frenzied hope. He gestures to ROGUE 1 who turns up the current.</h3> <h2>INT- HOUSE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Clothes charred, PALMER still manages to stand.</h3> <h3>That cues ROGUE 3, in heavy boots, to charge in and throw the bucket of acid. The wave hits Palmer and he smokes.</h3> <h3>And, though his clothes web and stretch, the God Dog remains.</h3> <h3>Steaming hand getting the machete, Palmer finds JIMMY and MICHELLE again. But now ROGUE 2 and 6 show.</h3> <h3>2 splashes him with the gasoline and 6, follow right behind, stabs him with the bright flares.</h3> <h3>Palmer now blazes.</h3> <h3>Blinded by flames, a sheer inferno, Palmer still keeps coming.</h3> <h3>Seeing the inevitable, Michelle covers Jimmy's eyes.</h3> <h3>Their ROGUE captor lets go though and flies in. Like a comet, it slams Palmer across the walls, sending his smoking form to the front door.</h3> <h3>But out of time, caught by a watching God, it flares and is taken. It did what it needed.</h3> <h3>TIM and the ROGUES, minus 1, come out, shotguns aimed.</h3> <h3>Michelle takes Jimmy and ducks. Palmer stands, still burning.</h3> <h3>The Rogues fire.</h3> <h3>Slug upon slug punches Palmer back, one jab at a time towards the porch. Unhindered, he steps into the bombardment, struggling to march back to Jimmy.</h3> <h3>But the shots are winning, inching him to the loose porch boards. One gives and Palmer loses, falling into their fresh pit.</h3> <h2>INT- SHADOW- NIGHT</h2> <h3>ROGUE 1 readies the switch.</h3> <h2>INT- PIT- NIGHT</h2> <h3>His flames illuminating the dark, PALMER can see again. The view: a dozen powder kegs surrounding.</h3> <h2>INT- SHADOW- NIGHT</h2> <h3>ROGUE 1 hits it.</h3> <h2>INT- HOUSE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Boom.</h3> <h3>The blast tears through the whole front, launching wood like spears over MICHELLE and JIMMY. Standing tall, refusing to duck like the ROGUES, TIM ignores the shrapnel, focused on spotting Palmer.</h3> <h3>The flames fade. The dust fades. And all that remains is nothing. The front has vanished, torn to ashes; a gnarled hole its only remnant.</h3> <h3>It is done. Looking with Jimmy and Tim, Michelle sees the crater and the absence it has left. Rising, the Rogues look too and almost tear, a sigh of relief unavoidable.</h3> <h3>Hand on her shoulder: Tim smiles to her smoked face.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> So much for omnipotence.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Blinking, she can't help but feel joy. It is a joy for them all - the impossible not such a nightmare anymore.</h3> <h3>And that is how it is...until PALMER lands.</h3> <h3>His thud echoes through out, turning every horrified head.</h3> <h3>Coughing, hacking, he's alive and still rises.</h3> <h3>Tim and the Rogues can only groan, draw their swords and charge. Leaping over Michelle and Jimmy, they crash right into him, hacking away.</h3> <h3>Stabbing, chopping, they will not quit. Even ROGUE 1 gets his blade and joins in.</h3> <h3>He rams his steel into Palmer's gut. Another sword enters his back. Rogue 2, with a triumphant howl, slices through Palmer's whole neck.</h3> <h3>But his head remains.</h3> <h3>No blood, just the fresh, suspended wound. The cutting stops, the Rogues have lost their will.</h3> <h3>But Palmer has not.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Guys still don't get it.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Now it's his turn. Ripping out the swords, Palmer starts double blade carving: slashing Rogue 1 and touching Rogue 2 in the face.</h3> <h3>He spews, spraying everyone, framing the battle in red rain.</h3> <h3>The rest attack, refusing to lie down. And Palmer welcomes them.</h3> <h3>Escaping the fight, Tim grabs Michelle and Jimmy, rushing them to the stairs. They flee upward, Tim guarding their path.</h3> <h3>Grabbing Rogue 3's head, Palmer splatters the rest with vomit. The body tossed, Palmer's back in.</h3> <h3>One gelatin SOUL, now expelled, looks high to Palmer's on coming blade.</h3> <h3>It can only scream.</h3> <h2>INT- HALL- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Dragging JIMMY, MICHELLE races into the nearest room.</h3> <h3>TIM slams them in, waiting outside the door, listening to dreadful shrieks coming from down the stairs.</h3> <h2>INT- HOUSE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>A SOUL slops away. But PALMER's hands snatch its head and squeezes, the skull crushed to mush.</h3> <h3>ROGUE 4 spears Palmer through the back. But he just whips around and sticks the Rogue with the same tip. He hugs tight and lets the blood and puss fly.</h3> <h3>A two body shadow, Palmer is coming for the last ROGUES.</h3> <h3>THREE ROGUES left, and all are shuffling back. Dropping the last carcass, Palmer unsheathes the sword from his cracking bones and faces them.</h3> <h3>Seeing what lies ahead, the Rogues glance to each other, their courage stalling. But, instead of fleeing, they howl their suicidal choice and storm their own deaths.</h3> <h3>The dark form, Palmer, greets them with a high slash.</h3> <h2>INT- ROOM- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Shrieks pounding through the floor, MICHELLE and JIMMY use everything to block the door.</h3> <h3>She finds the window. It's boarded up. So she starts pulling, snapping to Jimmy.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>MICHELLE<br> Help me.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Together, they kick, yank and tear the wood for their lives.</h3> <h2>INT- HOUSE- NIGHT</h2> <h3>ROGUE 5's face becomes drenched in blood in PALMER's grip. TWO SOULS desperately crawl to the stairs.</h3> <h3>But one, squealing, is taken. Its head sliced in half.</h3> <h3>The last soul looks back, seeing the black Palmer rise. Gimpy step upon gimpy step, it flops up the stairs.</h3> <h3>A resting blade is lifted. The footsteps are coming.</h3> <h2>INT- HALL- NIGHT</h2> <h3>Hearing its squeaks, TIM watches the pitiful SOUL reach the hall. Screaming wordless pleas, its slurping and slopping for desperate existence.</h3> <h3>But, the struggle is futile, for PALMER flies past, cutting it through, landing as it melts.</h3> <h3>It's down to them, those boots pounding for Tim. Lips curling, he aims up two pistols and fires everything he's got.</h3> <h3>But Palmer keeps coming.</h3> <h3>The guns slump, Tim eating the pointlessness. And then he smiles.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> Come get me.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>With both barrels to his chin, he blows his own head off.</h3> <h3>Chum smearing the wall: what's left slides to the floor, Palmer walking past.</h3> <h2>INT- ROOM- NIGHT</h2> <h3>MICHELLE snaps to the smashing. PALMER's busting through the door. Using their whole bodies, she and JIMMY crash through the last boards.</h3> <h3>Only to find bars beyond.</h3> <h3>And Palmer has squeezed past the blockade. Michelle, terror overcoming, kneels down and takes one of the boards.</h3> <h3>Trembling, she stands, club held overhead, ready to face the monster Palmer.</h3> <h3>He slows, staring her down through matted hair.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> You might want to be meek right now.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Tears streaming, she holds her ground, shaking her head.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Just remember - it was a choice.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>And then he comes. Giving her last cry, Michelle strikes.</h3> <h3>But the fight is short. His sword has opened her.</h3> <h3>Michelle falls. Like a defeated heroine, she's fainted at his feet.</h3> <h3>But, in his efficiency, Palmer is not done. With his classic spin, he slams the sword down, spearing her jaws open. Michelle, once pretty, is now a nightmare piece of steel pinning a blank scream.</h3> <h3>Air hisses. Limbs rattle and die. And, in a worse way, she fades out � dead.</h3> <h3>But it's more for Palmer. Right now, she's being recycled. Somewhere in the heavens, Michelle screams, horror consuming amidst her digestion.</h3> <h3>Getting lost in that mangled corpse, Palmer knows: she is gone for true. For her, there will be no rest or peace, but one terrible moment and black.</h3> <h3>It absorbs him, stopping his mission. His design forgotten, it's her he remembers... and what he did. He doesn't move, just hovers, giving Jimmy a chance.</h3> <h3>Seeing it and very carefully, Jimmy slides his way past. But Palmer, almost hypnotically, blocks the boy, keeping him trapped.</h3> <h3>But, for now, it's not to kill. For now, the God Dog machine speaks.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> What's your name?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Jimmy swallows, yet manages an answer.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>JIMMY<br> Jimmy.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Through locks of blood, those tired eyes find him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> Think the universe should be prettier than this?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Jimmy shakes up a nod. And softly, for himself, Palmer smiles.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Me too.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>His sad epiphany doesn't stop him though. Palmer still comes, his shadow engulfing Jimmy's frozen stare.</h3> <h3>But, struck by something, Palmer stumbles. He feels it. And, though it isn't profound, it's real.</h3> <h3>Blood dripping: his blood. His face cracking: his wounds. Like a wilting flower, his body is peeling, splitting.</h3> <h3>It maybe a cringe his smile is making, but better belief it's the most wonderful smile.</h3> <h3>Palmer's retiring.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> Well, Jimmy, the strategies have changed again. You beat the clock.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He scoffs.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> (cont'd)<br> You'd think holy paths would be surer than this.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>And then he drops to his knees, breaking into chum on impact.</h3> <h3>Jimmy slides to his butt, Palmer's gory pile at his feet. He just stares, holding his himself, finally and totally mad.</h3> <h3>But Palmer is still there, in spirit anyway. A spirit that floats past his own corpse and, with a great howl, dives light speed into the unknown.</h3> <h3>Though dead, Palmer is on the hunt.</h3> <a name="goddog"></a> <h2>EXT- GLOBE- DAY</h2> <h3>The Earth a blur, Palmer's soul soars to its target.</h3> <h2>INT- APARTMENT- NIGHT</h2> <h3>The music plays. The lights are low. The wine's glistening. And BARBARA and JOE gaze into each other's eyes in casual romance. They whisper.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>JOE<br> You have such beautiful... tits.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BARBARA<br> And you have such a big... bank account.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>JOE<br> It's good to be honest.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BARBARA<br> Speaking of honesty, are you in there?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He smiles. She hits his head with the bottle. Grabbing a kitchen knife, she lets Joe come, gutting him on the pass. With all that gore, his bowels spill out.</h3> <h3>And Joe (Palmer) falls. This time, the God Dog's invincibility, is not there. And Barbara (Tim) smiles, watching this man flop with his intestines, clinging to a life he can't accept is lost.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BARBARA<br> Just as we figured.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Standing over him, hunched vile attempting elegance, she gloats.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BARBARA<br> (cont'd)<br> Not as easy is it? That isn't your body there: the one with the divine invincibility...no.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Joe struggles to talk.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BARBARA<br> (cont'd)<br> You see, you weren't chosen, this wasn't God's gift bestowed upon the. You were grown. God's weapon, you, made before you were born. That's the only reason why you were born.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Trying to rise, Joe just chokes.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BARBARA<br> (cont'd)<br> Oh, friend. It takes skill, practice to hold on. Not something God can just give you. You're on my terms now. See you around.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Right there, right then, they both die, the spirits diving out.</h3> <h2>EXT- GLOBE- DAY/NIGHT</h2> <h3>The clouds speed by. And, though unseen, the spirits are chasing - Palmer and Tim - marked by their passing shrieks.</h3> <h3>Soaring to the stars and back to Earth, they're howls rattle the heavens.</h3> <h2>EXT- SQUARE- DAY</h2> <h3>JACK buys a hot dog, giving a smile to BILLY, only eight years old, running up.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>JACK<br> Hey, Billy.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BILLY<br> Hi, Mr. Jack.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>JACK<br> Say, Billy, you want a wiener?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>BILLY<br> Sure dog.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Billy's teeth then clamp onto Jack's fingers. Jack flips the kid onto the hot dog stand but suddenly dies. The VENDER is now "it," shoving Billy's squealing head into the cooker.</h3> <h3>A WOMAN screams but then howls. A MAN checks her, the two exploding in bloody battle. They fall.</h3> <h3>The next TWO PEOPLE, strangers, start punching and throwing each other. But they drop. Down the way, TWO NEW PEOPLE attack. They drop.</h3> <h3>Around the square, STRANGERS fight, the ghosts leaping from PAIR to PAIR. REGULAR PEOPLE are rammed through glass, smashed into pavement, beaten with anything, all shrieking horrid war cries.</h3> <h3>But as fast as they arrived, the spirits are gone.</h3> <h2>EXT- GLOBE- DAY/NIGHT</h2> <h3>Those astral paths zigzag over the Earth, one attempting to lose the other: enough to dizzy anyone.</h3> <h2>INT- HIGH SCHOOL STADIUM- NIGHT</h2> <h3>The CROWD cheers. The PLAYERS play basketball until ONE PLAYER leaps on another and starts biting. That ATTACKEE gouges his eye. The two are fighting out right.</h3> <h3>So, both TEAMS empty their benches and rush in.</h3> <h3>It becomes a riot. But the spirits are jumping. Now, amidst the kicking and punching, there's strangling, ball ripping, neck breaking.</h3> <h3>ONE PLAYER tears off his jersey and spins it into a garrote. He leaps over the players, nabbing and putting the choke on just one. But that guy dies too soon, the strangler looking up to the flying COACH smashing his face with the trophy.</h3> <h3>The COACH is immediately jumped by another PLAYER.</h3> <h3>The audience is wooping to the mayhem. A mayhem that goes to them. Cutting through the crowd in a straight line, like a two-person wave, PAIR after PAIR pummel each other, one punch at a time.</h3> <h3>And then it's gone.</h3> <h2>EXT- STREET- DAY</h2> <h3>One punch per PAIR, a single line of violence races through the PEDESTRIANS, each attacking then dying.</h3> <h2>EXT- BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>Turning to a building, the frenzy enters the business sector, lead by SUIT to SUIT.</h3> <h2>INT- BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>Floor to floor, the offices erupt when BANKERS attack. The animal stampede flies out the window, taking two MAD EMPLOYEES with it.</h3> <h2>EXT- BUILDING- DAY</h2> <h3>Those EMPLOYEES splatter on the pavement, the souls streaming past them into the Earth.</h3> <h2>EXT- GLOBE- DAY</h2> <h3>Forget the surface, the ghosts go through the magma; then back into the dirt.</h3> <h3>Then black.</h3> <h2>EXT- DESERT- DAY</h2> <h3>In the middle of a wasteland sits a trailer. It and the land are quiet with only a breeze playing shallow chimes.</h3> <h2>INT- BOMB SHELTER- DAY</h2> <h3>But underneath, deep in the Earth, are the concrete walls, the filtering vents, the rows of boxes, DAVE and ED, and a GIRL.</h3> <h3>Or at least she was a girl.</h3> <h3>Dave finds out when he walks in on Ed, his hand over her dead eyes.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DAVE<br> What the hell did you do?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>ED<br> I can bring her back.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Growl bursting into a yell, he rams Ed to the wall, trapping him by the collar.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DAVE<br> You had to do it early. Like a little kid. We're here for the long haul! Do you know how bad she's going to smell?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>ED<br> It was just a little fun.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DAVE<br> Moron!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He tosses him aside, adjusting the girl in the bed. Behind him, Ed sneaks to the door.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DAVE<br> (cont'd)<br> Well, we got a few hours before rigor sets. At least the meat will be fresh.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>As light as it is, the CLANK still echoes to Dave's ear. He whips to Ed trying to escape through the hatch.</h3> <h3>For his life, Dave jumps him, holding him again out of sheer terror.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DAVE<br> (cont'd)<br> Don't open the hatch!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>ED<br> But there no bombs, Dave. I don't hear no bombs.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DAVE<br> Don't you get it? The Bushes are back. The bombs will come. Now, stay cool!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Again, he lets Ed go and does a dramatic turn around. Petting his hair and gazing wildly, Dave shows his classic camp insanity.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DAVE<br> (cont'd)<br> Just five months, that's enough to last the fall out, Ed. Okay, all we need is five months.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>The hatch CLANKS again.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DAVE<br> (cont'd)<br> Dammit, Ed, keep that hatch shut!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>With a grin, Ed leers back to him.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>ED<br> No, I was making sure it was locked.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>His expressions have changed. Ed isn't Ed anymore. He's TIM.</h3> <h3>Diving to the arsenal, Tim gets a gun and starts shooting.</h3> <h3>Ducking behind concrete, Dave manages to escape the sparking bullets, but not quite. When the shooting stops, he finds it, blood pooling from his belly. Dave's been shot bad.</h3> <h3>From behind the net of grated walls, Tim is curled, waiting.</h3> <h3>Drawing his sidearm, Dave grips his wounds and listens.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> Just you and me, dog! End game!</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>He whips out and fires. Dave returns it.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> Oh, never mind shooting. Why don't I just wait here? Let you bleed out. Then it will be only me: alone and untouchable, safe in this body.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Scanning, Dave searches for a way to get to Tim. He sticks his head out. But shots force him back.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> How long do you think I can stay down here? Better yet, how many rounds do you have left?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Dave checks his revolver. Revolver. He sighs to an almost spent cylinder, hearing the click.</h3> <h3>Tim is standing over him, aiming.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> (cont'd)<br> You lose Palmer.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>DAVE<br> Who?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Tim's confused. But he soon gets it. A hand is touching his. Then it's gripping it.</h3> <h3>The girl.</h3> <h3>Twisting his stunned gaze down, Tim finds the dead girl looking at him, smiling with purple cheeks. Her hand has tightened.</h3> <h3>And Tim screams: punching, shooting, filling her face to crotch with lead, she won't let go.</h3> <h3>Then it was too late.</h3> <h3>He's coughing. Blood is dribbling. Blood is leaking. Blood is pouring.</h3> <h3>Breaking free, Tim flails with rage spraying him self in thick splashes. Smacking the wall, hand clapped to his mouth, he's curling to hold it in. But still it comes, no matter what; his soul - all six grand worth - has been called.</h3> <h3>The body flops, shakes, tries to live...</h3> <h3>But it falls, leeched to leather and bone.</h3> <h3>Pulling himself from cover, a cold, unaffected Dave sits across from Tim.</h3> <h3>Having been bounced from the girl, he's now PALMER. Checking the revolver, he waits for TIM'S SOUL to form.</h3> <h3>With some belches and bubbles, it forces up from the puss of Ed and sits on his corpse. Leaning there, a thing of gurgling fat, it searches through half-blindness.</h3> <h3>Soon though, those gray eyes fall on Palmer, staring him down in perpetual bafflement.</h3> <h3>Not skipping a beat, Palmer aims. But, before the trigger pulls, it spits up a question.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>TIM<br> So, what was your price?</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>Barrel still held on Tim, Palmer does what he wouldn't and surrenders his only answer.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="300" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>PALMER<br> I thought I could be one of the good guys for once.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> <h3>And then he shoots. Head popping, Tim is gone, already melting, leaving him the lonely victor.</h3> <h3>In the silence, a light comes. That Light, descending bright from the ceiling.</h3> <h3>Like the first time, its brilliance engulfs him, but Palmer doesn't smile, doesn't cry. Instead, he just stares.</h3> <center> <table border="0" width="400" cellspacing="10"> <tr> <td></td> <td> <h3>...His face dim despite the white.</h3> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </center> </td> </tr> </table> </center> </body>