Screenplay / Slip/Road

BLACKOUT

QUOTE APPEARS:
“THERE ARE NO FACTS, ONLY INTERPRETATIONS.”
—Nietzsche
FADE TO BLACK

FADE IN TITLE: SLIP/ROAD
FADE OUT TITLE

FADE IN SCENE
EXT. DESERTED STRETCH OF HIGHWAY-DAY
Scene opens with a shot of an open highway, the tell-tale waves of heat distorting the horizon.  The air is still and nothing moves along the side of the road.  After a moment, the stillness is broken by the sound of a car as it barrels its way down the highway into the heat of the day. The vehicle, an older model, its exterior worn with the signs of long travel, marred with dust and dirt, races down the deserted interstate to an unknown destination.

INT. JACK AVERY’S CAR-DAY
Scene moves to reveal the driver of the plain car, Detective Jack Avery, looking terribly disheveled, his face darkened by an extreme lack of sleep and several days worth of facial hair growth.  Dark sunglasses shield his eyes from the overhead sun.  He wears a white button down shirt, long overdue for a cleaning, the fabric bearing the thick rumples from long nights sleeping in his car.  The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.  A tie hangs loosened around his neck.  A cigarette dangles from his mouth.  He draws from it slowly, with purpose, attempting to keep himself alert. Setting the cigarette in the ashtray, he picks up a medium Styrofoam cup and takes a swig from it.  The following look of disgust makes it apparent that the coffee is not only lukewarm but probably days old.

EXT. DESERTED STRETCH OF HIGHWAY-DAY
Scene shows the car race past and diminish into the empty highway ahead.

INT. JACK AVERY’S CAR-DAY
Jack Avery continues towards his destination, a weary hand raises to rub his eyes.  As he motors on, his mind starts to wander, thoughts from the past returning, the drifting call of yesterday’s ghosts echoing within him.

JACK (V.O.)
“There was a time when the world as I understood it was as cut and dry as the horizon ahead of me. Things have become so strange now…a kind of distortion…a twisting of reality.  Out here, chasing the past…nothing seems right anymore.  The pieces on the board no longer resembling the forces I once believed divided us so distinctly.”

He draws deeply from his cigarette and collects his thoughts.  Lowering the window, he flicks the butt outside and refocuses on the road.  As he thinks, he begins to drift away, drawn into the past once again.

JACK (V.O.)
“Everything was, at one time very obvious.  I woke each morning with a clean conscience…the idea that I was making the world a better place.  Now…now nothing is simple…or certain.  The nightly ghosts remind me of my search, my fight to find some sign…or some, some evidence of the Line…that idealistic boundary separating  those in the game.  In the light I can remind myself of this crusade, my fight.  But after it, I find I’m alone in my war.  And the gnawing, festering fear, that the only thing discerning us  from the animals we caged…that view of life through rose-colored glasses…never existed.”

INT. NONDESCRIPT PUBLIC BUILDING-DAY
Jack stands holding a gun, aimed at someone off screen.  He looks crisp, fresh, and strong.  He is smartly dressed.  He is a man with purpose, drive, and hope.  We see a glimpse of the man before he cascaded into the darkness he has become.

JACK
“POLICE, FREEZE!”

After yelling the warning, his eyes go wide as he flinches and he fires a shot from the gun.

INT. JACK AVERY’S CAR-DAY
The shot tears Jack from the day-mare and the car suddenly veers to the left as he tears the wheel to the side.  We see a large file of papers fly onto the floor of the passenger side in the sudden lurch of the car.  Panicking, Jack struggles to correct the car and finally straightens it out.  He starts in his seat and nervously checks his mirrors, fearing a witness to his driving lapse.  Seeing no one, he stretches his shoulders a bit and relaxes back into the seat.  He rubs his eyes again and pulls his hand over his head. His eyes move over to the fallen papers, occasionally moving back to the road as he thinks about trying to grab them. As he glances back up, his eyes are drawn up to something passing him.  He sits back in the seat, ignoring the papers for the moment.

EXT. DESERTED STRETCH OF HIGHWAY-DAY
The vehicle passes by a large blue REST STOP sign.

EXT. REST STOP-DAY
Jack sits within his car, the driver side door open. He has removed his sunglasses, his eyes darkly circled from stress and sleep deprivation.  His legs are outside as he blankly snacks on some vending machine chips.  A soda can sits perched on the dashboard.  He pulls it down and takes a slow drink.  Turning, he pulls his legs in and reaches over to pick up the stack of papers that have fallen onto the floorboard. Grouping them up, we see the real weariness in his eyes.  Too many memories in these sheets, apparently.

JACK (V.O.)
“The fugitive that brought me out here has been making this desperate bid for freedom for nearly a year now, from border to border and back again, always a step ahead of me.”

INT. DARKENED INDUSTRIAL PLANT
In the dim light we hear a girl sobbing and whimpering as she tries to find her way in the dark environment. She wanders down a small corridor, trying to feel her way along.  The sound of something slamming into metal behind her causes her to scream as she turns to see some invisible assailant.

INT. JACK AVERY’S CAR-DAY
Jack now sits in the driver seat, poring over the dossier of his quarry.  He flips through sheet after sheet, some with attached crime scene photos, a few with grainy photos of the fugitive.

JACK (V.O. CONT’D)
“He and I have had a few run-ins, but he’s found a way out every time.  Ironic, I guess. It seems to be, that the idiosyncratic nature of the universe, its sadistic love of mordancy remains the sole excuse that this…monster…has managed to stay ahead of the law for so long.  Allowed to roam unfettered; unchecked.  A luxury his victims will never have.”

INT. DARKENED INDUSTRIAL PLANT
Sobbing she backs up slowly, whimpering and crying. Something is in front of her approaching her slowly.

GIRL #1
“Please…leave me alone…please…”

INT. JACK AVERY’S CAR-DAY

JACK (V.O.)
“Ever since the bank, when I thought I had him, he’s been the one loose end in my life.  While “everything else” seemed to…tie itself up…Chief Wilks, my partner Steve, Christine and Lacy…this bastard remains the last thorn in my side…the only thing I have left really.”

INT. DARKENED INDUSTRIAL PLANT
The girl stumbles backwards and falls.  She raises a hand in a defensive position.

GIRL #1
“No…no…”

Her hand is violently slapped away and a pair of greasy, blackened hands suddenly sieze her around the throat.  She fights against her attacker, slapping at his arms, but to no avail. Her small hands dig nails into the skin of the man but he seems to feel nothing, his mind apparently driven by a single purpose.

INT. JACK AVERY’S CAR-DAY
Jack looks up and stares intently out the windshield, thinking.  His brow slowly creases with hate at the thought of the fugitive that has eluded him for so long.

JACK (V.O.)
“My shrink said it was closure that I needed.  A chance to move on.  But no one could stop him…or me for that matter.  I may not wear a badge anymore, the Line may blur at times, but I know the difference.  With him out there hiding, living…breathing, no one is safe.  It was, is, my duty to finish this mockery of the law, this perversion of justice.  Whatever the cost.”

INT. DARKENED INDUSTRIAL PLANT
The girl struggles hard, her frail hands gripping into the taut quivering forearms of her assailant, her eyes wide, managing only slight choking gurgles as she suddenly goes limp in the hands of the unseen killer. A sudden glimpse of an open wide mouth, teeth rotted, black and snarled, blackened lips twitching in anticipation of the killing stroke.

JACK (V.O.)
“By saving a bullet for the man who took everything from me…the man who destroyed my life and the lives of others…to know there would be one less atrocity loose in the world…now that would be an expense worth paying.”

The figure lunges forward, burying itself into the warm flesh of the victim.  Wet tearing sounds can be heard in the dim darkness of the plants hallways as the shadowed figure tears hungrily into the girls body.

EXT. REST STOP-DAY
The car door slams shut and the car reverses quickly, then takes off quickly, the former officer resuming the trail with renewed vigor.

EXT. SAUL’S VIEW
The streets of this town-that-time-forgot are empty, the residents indoors to escape the blistering heat of the day.  From first appearances, the town appears dead, the only life a stray dog panting heavily in the arid heat.  Various shots show the town to be only slightly modernized, with buildings in heavy disrepair, the effects of nature’s corrosion on man’s constructs.  A lone street light hangs in the distance.  Shadowing the entire town however is an enormous abandoned mill.  It’s steel walls dwarf every building in the area.  Like a focus point, it is the only eye-catching structure in the town, the last remnant of the once prosperous life of Saul’s View. A cherry red sports car is parked just outside of the mill, another object completely out of place in the town.  The streets remain deserted, no trace of life to be seen.  Suddenly, a short, thick woman appears on the porch of a building, her hard eyes looking out towards the mill as though scanning for something. She is busily drying her hands with a dish towel.  Her apron is stained and dirty, her hair a mass of tangles and knots.  She has the look of a woman who has given up on life, but still refuses to go without a fight. After a moment she calls back into the building she just left.

MARY
“Carl.  Call the sheriff.”

EXT. JACK AVERY’S CAR-NIGHT
The night passes fitfully for Jack Avery, as do all the nights, the inner demons refusing to abandon him along his road to personal redemption, the maelstrom too powerful and overcoming for him to try and abandon it.  Restless sleep filled with nightmares preluding to timeless days on deserted roads seem to have begun to define what remains of his ragged, frail life.

JACK (V.O.)
“POLICE! FREEZE!”

This night, as is all of them, is no different.  With a weathered dress jacket for a blanket, the sweat pours out of him as he contends with that which he cannot hope to conquer.
INT. BANK-DAY
Jack stands with his gun pointed towards a suspect. The other patrons of the bank lie sprawled on the floor, hands over their heads.  Some are huddled together averting their eyes.  A guard lies dead on the floor, shot in the chest, his badge still glinting in the daylight, a tragic symbol of terrible irony pinned to the shirt of the once proud protector.  Jack is steel-gazed, strong, a man with pride and honor.  A girl is held in the arm of an unseen assailant, a gun to her head, a thick arm wrapped over her left shoulder and tucked under her right arm.  Tears stream down her face, her mascara transforming a once beautiful face into a gothic-misfiguration.  Her darting eyes see two fates but only one outcome.  She does not struggle, but simply awaits the end.

JACK
“Put the gun down, sir!”

The man does not respond but simply holds the gun to the girl’s head unflinching.

JACK
“Put the gun down”

The girl’s eyes glance up to her captor then back to Jack.  He glances for a moment and meets her gaze.  In that moment, the gunman acts, his weapon flashing out towards the officer.  Jack, eyes wide, flinches and fires his weapon.  A second shot rings out and catches him in the right arm sending him spiraling, the gun falling out of his grasp.  There is a moment of silence as the shock seems to slow everything down. He collapses onto the floor, his gun clatters out of his reach.  A high pitched scream suddenly peals forth, splitting the silence, and jarring him out of his shock.

EXT. JACK AVERY’S CAR-NIGHT
With a start, Jack awakes from the potent nightmare, the taste of fear and failure still souring his throat.  His shirt is soaked with sweat.  His hands grip the passenger seat and the door handle in terror, his head snaps around trying to gain some vantage on the man who got the drop on him.  After gaining his bearings and remembering where he is, he slowly sits up in the seat and closes his eyes.  He draws in a breath as though it’s a privilege he’s not entitled to.  Raising up, he lowers the window to ease the pungent aroma of sweat and fear into the still, unfeeling night air.  He lies back and for a few moments contemplates the night.  Sleep begins to overcome him once again and he manages to drift off, to his relief, into the abyss without another stirring revival of the failures of his past.

EXT. DESERTED STRETCH OF HIGHWAY-DAY
Jack stands outside of his car, the sun casting its unblinking stare upon the world.  He squints his eyes in spite of the sunglasses he wears.  A map is spread out on the hood.  Pulling a sheet of folded paper from his pocket he reads the note again then returns to the map.

JACK (V.O.)
“An informant from several years ago, with deep connections in weapons trafficking, cut a deal with the prosecutor and clued my investigative team onto a serial robber, outfitted with their steel, that had been working the area.  Grunt work managed to put a name with the surveillance videos and we finally tracked him down to the last major bank in the city.  It was there that we lost him…and another hostage.”

Tracing his finger along a route, he stops at the town of Saul’s View, double checks the name on the note, then stuffs it back into his pocket.

JACK (V.O.)
“After nearly a year of chasing rumors and sightings, I managed to find a witness and a dead solid lead onto the guy.  Saul’s View was the last reliable stop for gas and food on this road before nearly 500 miles of pure American nothing.  He’d want to catch up on his sleep as well and it would be then…then that I would finish this thing and be rid of him at long last.”

Jack folds up the map, his precision denoting the remnants of his once powerful sense of order, then stops to take a look at the road behind him, his mind wandering in the heat.  An odd look suddenly hits him as he feels something strange and his gaze is pulled down to his foot.  A large black beetle crawls off of his shoe, touches down to the asphalt with a click and then plods its way towards the side of the road and the land beyond.  He watches the aimless insect for a moment with half-interest then heads back to the car. The vehicle jumps into gear and he heads off, a large sign pointing out: Saul’s View – 49.

EXT. SAUL’S VIEW-DAY
A large black man stands outside of a bar, smoking a cigarette, looking aimlessly around the town.  He is dressed rather well for what the town is, his clothes casual, but very smart in their selection.  A remnant of a former life.  He draws off the cigarette slowly, steadily, his eyes tired and worn, the view before him not really the town, but the prison that the town has become for him.  A look of deep longing washes over his face as he recalls the freedom of his younger life, but is then replaced by the accepting look of a man who has given up the fight and has allowed his promise and hope to be swallowed by the void, the emptiness created in the wake of life’s darkest moments. After a moment of no activity, he flicks the cigarette butt, takes a deep breath then turns to reenter the bar, but then pauses mid stride when something catches his ear.  He walks back towards where he was standing and looks out towards the street.  The sound grows louder and the dull engine growl eventually clears as the dusty, beaten vehicle passes by on main street. With pursed lips, the man turns and reenters the bar, his pace a bit quicker this time.

EXT. SAUL’S VIEW-DAY
As Jack pulls through the town, his eyes flicker from building to building.  The lack of people around catches his attention briefly.  As he motors down the primary street, he catches the movement of blinds and drapes in various buildings as the locals try to catch a glimpse of the stranger without exposing themselves. He comes to a stop sign and pauses.  There are no cars, no pedestrians, no signs of life anywhere.  Jack removes his sunglasses and looks around.  Seeing nothing he pulls off and rounds a corner.  The town is completely deserted. After a moment, he finally glimpses something that attracts his attention.  

EXT. MECHANICS SHOP-DAY
He speeds up and heads to a small mechanic’s shop.  Pulling up to the shop, he sees no one around at first.  He turns the car off, grabs his tie off the rearview, and slowly exits.  Looking around, he slips on the tie and tightens it slightly.  He grabs his jacket and despite the apparent heat, shrugs it on.  For a moment, he stretches his arms and shakes out his legs, then, seeing no one, calls out to the apparently dead car shop.

JACK
“Hello?”

There is no response.

JACK
“Excuse me? Anyone working here?”

Stepping towards the garage, he sees a busted, rusty old car in one port, a newer car in the next.  A glance downwards reveals several tools on the ground amidst several empty beer cans.  He scoffs under his breath as a finger removes fresh grease from one wrench.

JACK
“Fucking rednecks.”

He strides back out to his car reaches into the driver’s side window, then pulling his head outside, lays into the horn several times.

JACK
“C’mon guys, I just need an oil change!”

He sighs and walks towards the garage, his stride gaining the imposing gait of an officer of the law.  As he approaches the garage, he moves to step inside when a large man steps sharply in front of him.  His hair is long and greasy, his facial hair grown in thick and thin patches.  A painfully oil-stained bandanna adorns his head and his clothes are merely a vehicle-fluid stained nightmare.  Grease covers his arms and coats his nails.  His breath reeks of bar-be-que and stale whiskey.  Jack halts mere inches from the mechanic, his left hand habitually coming up halfway to block the stranger, his right hand reaching for the gun holstered at the small of his back.

MECHANIC
“No customers in the garage.”

Jack simply stares for a moment, completely thrown by the amiable nature of the man who had surprised him and nearly lost his life in return.  Relaxing a bit, he finally finds the words, his stern tone another remnant of a past life.

JACK
“Where were you when I called earlier?”

The mechanic pulls a thick stained rag from his back pocket and begins wiping his hands on it, his eyes never leave Jack’s.

MECHANIC
“Out back feedin’ the dogs.  You need something, sir?”

The half-stare of the man unnerves him and he turns towards the car to maintain his composure.

JACK
“Yeah, I’ve been driving about twenty-seven hours or so and I’m coming up on my oil change.  Figured I’d get it done now, get it out of the way.”

The mechanic looks over to the car and strolls towards it.

MECHANIC
“We can handle that.  Anything else?”

JACK
“Actually, can you check the idle too? Think she might be stalling a little.”

MECHANIC
“No problem.”

The mechanic lifts up one of the wipers and intently inspects the blade.

MECHANIC
“Gonna need some new wipes as well. So, what brings you out to Saul’s View?”

JACK
“Passing through actually, heading up to Parson.”

MECHANIC
“Parson, huh?  That’s a drive ain’t it?”

JACK (LAUGHS)
“Looking forward to it actually, country air, open road…you know that old saying about monotony and creativity.”

The mechanic stands up from the wiper and looks him dead in the eye completely unamused, the look of a man very sick of how smart outsiders think they are and how smart they would like to remind the locals that they are not.

MECHANIC
“No, sir…’fraid I don’t.”

The man turns and walks towards the garage.  Jack purses his lips in regret and turns to follow.

MECHANIC
“Jimmy! Get your dumb ass out here!”

Another man, this one taller and much thinner, comes loping out of the back.  His clothes are as dirty and stained as the older mechanic, but his face also bears the look of his clothes.  The nearly blank stare on his face and the stiffly bent posture of one of his hands at his side gives Jack all he needed to know. His voice is somewhat weak, his words thick and slightly jumbled.  It takes effort for Jimmy to speak, but he makes do of it despite his obvious handicap.

JIMMY
“Yes sir? Need me for somethin’?”

Jimmy looks over at Jack, a sort of desperate desire to please in his look.  Jack glances downwards, avoiding the look.

MECHANIC
“Yeah boy, get this man’s keys and pull the car around to the back, then pull some wipers…22’s…and ‘bout six and a half quarts of 10-30.”

JIMMY
“You got it. Wipers and oil.”

Jimmy approaches Jack who hands him the keys.  As he opens the car door, Jimmy pulls out a large plastic bag from his pocket and wraps it around the seat.  A small smile hits Jack’s mouth at the small act of consideration.  He then turns back to the mechanic.  The car starts up and pulls away.

MECHANIC
“Don’t worry ‘bout Jimmy, he’s real good with cars…not too good with anything else…but cars…hell, he’s a god damn genius.”

JACK
“How long are we looking at?”

MECHANIC
“Well we’ve got to finish up on this heap, take us ‘bout an hour and a half…so ‘bout two hours, three if you want the idle fixed.”

JACK
“Sounds good.  There a place to get anything to eat around here?”

MECHANIC
“Well…there’s not much in Saul’s View.  Ya got Dick and Runts Bar over on the corner. There’s Carl’s place, the Traveler’s Inn, just down the street if you’re gonna stay the night.  They’re good people. Then you’ve got the Sheriff’s office over on Buckley street, Town Hall across from that, my place here, and about 1000 miles of grassy cow shit on all sides.”

JACK
“Food at the bar any good?”

MECHANIC
“Nothin’ to write home about but it’ll get the job done.”

JACK
“One other thing.”

He pulls a Polaroid from his jacket pocket and turns it.

JACK
“You wouldn’t have, by chance, seen this man?  Maybe passing through?  Or around town?”

The mechanic takes the picture and mulls over it for a brief moment.  Jack watches him intently for any sign of reaction.

MECHANIC
“Sorry, can’t say that I have.  Is there-”

JACK
“Thanks again.  I’ll be back in a few hours for the car.”

Jack turns sharply and heads into the town.  As he passes by the yard, he glances to his side and sees Jimmy hobbling towards the back of the yard.  About to continue on, he pauses as his eyes catch a glimpse of bright cherry red peeking out from under a tightly drawn car cover.  In a quick, belying movement, Jimmy stops, adjusts the cover on the car and, with a quick glance towards Jack, vanishes back behind the shop. Jack quickly files away the moment for later scrutiny, a habit developed over the years, and proceeds to beat a path to Benton’s Tavern.

EXT. SAUL’S VIEW-DAY
As Jack strides down the street, the silence of the town seems to gnaw at him.  He glances up to some buildings but only catches the faint movement of drapes.  The watched feeling returning, he tries to remain casual but is unable to shed the feeling that something is watching him, perhaps stalking him.  His hand reassuringly moves to the gun at the small of his back.  His standard-issue weapon was far more comfortable, so he put his trust in the power of his side piece.  The sound of a voice suddenly catches his ears, someone speaking loud, almost panicked.  As he moves past an open lot, to his left there stands what appears to be a preacher standing on a crate.  His look is classic, hair firmly slicked back, a wide-brim hat blocking the sun, round glasses, the worn bible in hand, rosary dangling from his waist.  The only stand-out detail being the tone of the man. It is beyond didactic.  He is commanding in his stature but his tone rings of pain and death.

STREET PREACHER
“What more is there to do with this vineyard, He asks the people.  What more than I hath already done!  I expected good fruit, yet I hath received naught but rot!  Worthless grapes with no merit, undesirable to Mine eyes!”

Jack stops a moment watching the flailing man preach to unseen masses before him.

STREET PREACHER
“I will tell you now what I mean to do with My vineyard!  I will break down its wall! I will remove its hedge!  Its ground will become trampled and I WILL LAY IT WASTE!”

Jack moves on, the words of the black-clad man falling on deaf ears.

STREET PREACHER
“And naught but briars and thorns will come up, and He charges the clouds to give no rain!”

The man’s voice grows fainter as Jack picks up his step a bit.  Sweat pours off his face.  The sight of the tavern is a welcome one as he steps up to the door.

INT. DICK AND RUNT’S BAR-DAY
Jack enters the small bar, the stale stink of cigarettes and alcohol hitting his nose the moment he crosses the threshold.  He’d been in too many places like this in his days, too many memories.  Walking up to the bar, he is greeted by the unapologetic, yet deeply honest face of the bartender, a tall black man, whose movements and eyes convey a slightly more worldly sense than this backwater town was probably accustomed to.

BARTENDER
“What’ll you have?”

JACK
“Bud please, bottle.  And something to chew on.”

The bartender turns and opens the bar cooler, pulls out a familiar dark brown bottle, educated hands quickly pulling away the cap and setting it down in front of Jack on top of a small napkin.  Reaching down below the bar, the ‘keep pulls forth a small bowl of pretzels and drops them in front of Jack.  As Jack drinks his beer, the bartender looks him over, his eyes objective yet hardened by a world harsher than people would have it believe.  Drying a glass, the tender finally breaks the silence of the quiet establishment.

BARTENDER
“You don’t belong here, you know.”

Jack pauses, his eyes on the barkeep.  After a moment, he smirks.

JACK
“I see you don’t get too many strangers passing through.”

The bartender continues his sidework.

JACK
“Am I unwanted here?”

BARTENDER
“Unwanted?  No, of course not.  Business is always welcome, though I get the feeling that a man like you is not exactly here to partake of the finest beer and pretzels Saul’s View has to offer, now are you?”

Jack laughs quietly and lights a cigarette.  He draws slowly off of it.

JACK
“I don’t know…heard the beer was the coldest in 100 miles, so I came running.”

The bartender simply nods and continues working.

JACK
So…where’s a “man like me” supposed to be then, if not in such a fine establishment as this.”

BARTENDER
“Where any man should be that doesn’t belong here.  Suburban house, white picket fence.  Two cars, pretty wife, couple of kids playing in the yard, yippy-fucking dog more annoying than useful.”

Jacks eyes grow a little distant at the thought.  His voice grows thick with the memories.

JACK
“I’m just passing through.”

EXT. MECHANICS SHOP-DAY
The Mechanic is strolling out to the drive area to meet someone he recognizes.  He’s smiling and he offers out his hand.  The Stranger approaches and shakes his hand.

MECHANIC
“Hey there. Just about have her ready for you.”

STRANGER
“Thanks again for everything, really.”

MECHANIC
“Hell, it’s nothing.  You’re the best business I’ve had in some time.”

The Stranger looks behind him and motions towards Jack’s car in the garage.  Jimmy is intently working on it.

STRANGER
“Busy day today though”

MECHANIC
“Oh yeah, came in this morning.  Guess they’ll be putting in an interstate next week.”

Jimmy strolls out from the garage, curious to see who arrived.  His dull eyes light up when he sees the stranger.  He waves excitedly with his good hand.  The stranger waves back.

STRANGER
“Hey Jimmy!  You still letting this slave driver earn a living off your talents?  You should have your own shop by now, give him a job, right?”

Jimmy laughs ridiculously and shakes his finger at the stranger, smiles, and waves again as he turns to go back to his work on the car.

MECHANIC
“That boy may not have a working nerve in his head, but he’s gonna miss you, you know.  Think we all will.”

STRANGER
“Something tells me you’re gonna miss my wallet more than me, friend.  But the time’s come to move on.  What about this one? They staying in town?”

MECHANIC
“Nah, said he’s just passing through, headed to Parson, real pushy fella, kinda nosy too.”

The Stranger gets a little nervous, glances around himself.  He thinks for a moment then decides quickly.

STRANGER
“Really…listen, what’ve you got left on mine?”

MECHANIC
“Just the radiator flush, and the A/C, should be done, two hours or so.”

STRANGER
“You know, don’t worry about the A/C, I think I’ll make do without it.”

MECHANIC
“You sure on that?”

STRANGER
“Yeah, I’ll be fine with the windows down till I get further north.”

MECHANIC
“Allright, but it’s a long, hard road till you get there.”

INT. DICK AND RUNT’S BAR
Jack and the Bartender are laughing a bit at some unheard joke.  A half-eaten sandwich sits next to a couple of empty beer bottles in front of Jack.  The bartender sets a glass above him.

JACK
“So how’d you get to be a bartender?”

BARTENDER
“Oh that’s a long story.”

JACK
“Indulge me.  What made you decide to top the quaff for a living.”

BARTENDER
“The lesser of two evils.”

Jack laughs slightly at this but stops when he sees that tbe Bartender is completely stonefaced.

JACK
“What were you before you landed here?”

BARTENDER
“Oh that was a lifetime ago.  Some decisions lead one way, some another.  Some reasons you think are positive, some not.  The way I chose…ended up here.”

JACK
“Was ending up here a positive for you?”

BARTENDER (QUIETLY)
“The road was paved with good intentions.”

Jack perks up a little bit, the detective in him sensing a deeper story to the man across the bar.  There was something more to the man and he didn’t know who he was talking to.

JACK
“Really, then…”

BARTENDER (MOVING ON)
“Like I said, no one stops in Saul’s View long enough to see the sights.  Only people here are those who were born here or those running from something.  The rest are  just…passing through, so to speak.”

Jack nods silently, taking it in, formulating his attack.

JACK
“So why did you stay?

The tone and pointedness of the question throws the bartender off.  He pauses as memories creep up on him from the shadows.  After a moment, he turns slowly and places his hands on the bar.

BARTENDER
“What can I do for you officer?”

The moment elicits a slight smirk from the weary ex-cop.

JACK
“Relax, I’m not here for you.”

Stepping back a bit, the ‘tender resumes his drying and exhales slowly.  Jack pulls forth the picture from his jacket and hands it across the bar to the Bartender.

JACK
“Seen him around?”

The bartender picks up the photo and studies it momentarily then drops it back on the polished oak.  Jack leaves the photo on the bar.  The Bartender eyes the ex-cop, his tone suddenly grave and filled with anxiety.

BARTENDER
“Look.  I don’t know what happened and I don’t care, but whatever you’re looking for, whatever reason you’re after this man, this town is not the place to deal with your problems.”

JACK
“Have you seen him around?”

BARTENDER
“This is not the place…”

Losing his patience, Jack sharply interrupts him, the hard-jawed tone reappears.

JACK
“Either you answer the question, or I will take a sudden interest in your reason for running here.”

The comment shuts the barkeep up and his eyes fall back down to the photo.  Jack’s eyes show nothing, yet another symbol of the training that kept him alive for so many years, yet once failed him when he needed it the most.

BARTENDER
“He’s been in a few times in the past couple of days.  Sits over in the booth in the left corner.  He’s staying over at Traveler’s.  I haven’t seen him today yet.”

Satisfied, Jack stands up, finishes the beer, pulls out his wallet, removes a twenty and tosses it on the bar.

JACK
“Thanks.”

He turns abruptly and strides towards the door.  Suddenly the bartender calls out after him.

BARTENDER
“Some things are better left unsaid.”

The two watch each other for a moment and Jack turns hastily and strides out the door into the day.  Watching after him, the bartender exhales deeply, picks up the twenty and stuffs it in his pocket.

EXT. SAUL’S VIEW
The empty city street yawns through the town as Jack strides down the sidewalk to the Traveler’s Inn.  The building is as old and worn as every building in town, all life apparently sucked from the very structure’s architecture over time.  Jack pauses for a moment to get a feel for the building’s exterior, finishes his cigarette, adjusts his gun, and makes his way to the front door.

INT. TRAVELER’S INN
Inside the lobby of the small bed and breakfast, an extremely large man sits behind the front counter leaning heavily back into the reclining chair.  His eyes are fixated through his glasses into a small paperback in his hands, the cover long since torn off, pages heavily bent from years of rereading.  His glance raises as the stranger enters the front door, the chime on the door marking the sound of new business.  Jack approaches the counter as the man stands up to greet him, his eyes beaming at the sight of a new face.

CARL
“Welcome to the Traveler’s Inn, sir.  I’m the owner, Carl.  Will you be staying with us tonight?”

The man offers his hand to Jack, who perfunctorily ignores it and moves right to his business.  Withdrawing the usual photo, he holds it up for Carl to see clearly.

JACK
“Have you seen this man, sir?  Might have stayed here recently?”

Carl, wide-eyed, looks at the photo, studies it for a moment, and finally seems to remember, his attitude like a child who just got their first right answer in kindergarten.

CARL
“Oh yeah! That’s Mr. Grant, sir.  Yeah, he showed up here afew days ago.  Nice fellow there, quiet nature about him.  Kinda odd really, he didn’t talk much when he first came through, but he said-”

Jack, rolling his eyes at the man’s simplicity cuts him off.

JACK
“So he rented a room of yours?”

CARL
“Yes sir, Room 3, one of our larger ones, guess he likes his space.  He is kind of a “thinker”.  I wanted to get him into-”

Jack steps back over to the window and peers outside.  No vehicles line the badly faded parking lot.

JACK
“Where’s his car?”

CARL
“Car?  Don’t seem to remember any car, sir.  But in this day of age, I told him, who needs a car when these…”

Jack shakes his head slowly at yet another dead end, the loss of another opportunity, the Innkeeper’s ramblings about the cost of gas and bad vehicle engineering droning in the background of his mind.  He grits his teeth and suddenly punches the bannister to the stairs.  Carl immediately quiets.

CARL
“Uh…everything alright, Mister?”

JACK
“How long ago did he vacate the room?”

Carl’s face scrunches up, as though the meaning of the question suddenly escaped him.

CARL
“Whatcha mean, Mister?”

Already aggravated, Jack shakes his head at the man’s ignorance and moves to the front door.  He grabs the handle.

JACK (QUIETLY)
“Never mind.”

CARL
“Cause Mr. Grant’s been staying on here for three days now.”

Jack freezes.  Registering the response quickly, his thumb slowly slides up to the lock above the handle on the door and silently latches it.  He turns to face the large man behind the counter.  Carl simply looks at him, that blank question mark of a face a portrait of the American Midwest.

JACK (INTENSELY CALM)
“Room 3 you said?”

Carl stares blankly at him, the tone of the stranger’s voice catching him off guard.  Something in Jack’s voice scared him a little.

CARL
“Room 3. Up the stairs, 2nd on the left, sir.”

JACK
“Thank you.”

Jack slowly moves up the stairs, the adrenaline already coursing through him.  His hand shakes a bit as he grasps the stair railing.  The coming storm and hopeful redemption that came with it was within his grasp.  As he breaks onto the second floor, he slowly slides the gun from his back holster, muscle memory suddenly taking over, his back to the wall, gun down, checking his angles.  Moving along the wall as silently as possible, he makes his way along the right until the number “3” is staring straight at him.  He quickly spins and puts his back to the right of the door.  After a moment, he counts silently to three, whirls and places a perfect kick to the door sending it wide open, the sound of the door slamming echoing in the hallway.  Weapon raised, Jack enters the room and covers the angles, prepared to levy off at anything that moves.  Nothing stirs.

JACK
“Thomas Grant! Come out with your hands raised!”

No movement prompts Jack to start into the apartment.  Training his weapon, he covers his blind spots expertly.  The apartment is near spotless.  He had not been here long apparently.  Moving farther along he comes across the bedroom, prepping himself, he quick-checks the room, then spins into it covering the corners.  Seeing nothing, he steps slowly into the room.  Suddenly something catches his nose and his eyes fall to a bedside night stand.  Upon it lay a worn bible, a pack of cigarettes with matches tucked into the plastic, and an ashtray.

A cigarette still burning in it, the smoke rising lazily to meet the ceiling before being dispersed by the slowly turning ceiling fan.

Suddenly, an explosion of movement from the previous room catches his attention, followed by the sound of pounding footsteps down the hallway.  With feverish intent, Jack pursues them.  He tears headlong into the hallway with complete disregard for his own safety, gun waving wildly in his hand as he charges towards the stairs.  Jamming his back to the wall, he sidesteps down the steps and levels off the gun as he appears into the lobby once again.  Empty. Carl is gone.

JACK
“Grant! Come out now!”

A muffled whimper from the back grabs his attention as he slowly slides towards the back room.  His eyes avert to behind the front desk where Carl’s prone body lies sprawled out, blood smattering the side of his face.  Moving forward, Jack places two fingers to the side of his neck, his face tense.  He relaxes slightly as he feels a pulse.  A deep exhale shows his relief as he stands back up and prepares to enter the next room.  Whirling around, weapon raised, the invisible sledgehammer of recollection connects with his gut.

INT. BANK
For a moment, we see a flash of the Jack from the past, aiming his weapon off at the assailant.  We then see the hostage, tears streaming down her face, the gun to her head, and the smirking face of Thomas Grant.  The two look younger, more able.  Ghosts long-since forgotten.  At least for some.

INT. TRAVELER’S INN
With a smug smile, Thomas Grant, fugitive from the law, bank-robber and murderer stands a mere ten feet in front of the detective his eyes intently staring into Jack’s.  A woman, her hair in tangles, her apron stained, stands wrapped in one of the killer’s arms, his gun aimed right at her head.  She remains still and silent, her eyes screaming for her.  The whimpering Jack had heard comes from the two little girls that sit cowering in a corner of the room.  His eyes burn back into Thomas’, his hatred fueling his rage.  His hands twitch from the adrenaline that surges in his veins.  For a terrible moment, the two merely stare at one another, unflinching.

THOMAS
“So history does repeat.  But tell me Jack, is it tragedy…or farce this time around?”

JACK
“Let her the fuck go, Tom.  Now.”

Thomas stares at Jack unmoving, the slightly upturned smile unfailing in its mockery of Jack and everything he once represented.

JACK
“LET HER GO ASSHOLE!”

THOMAS
“Can’t do that Jack.”

JACK
“Drop…the weapon.  Don’t think for a second I won’t kill you.”

THOMAS
“And chance another impromptu redecoration with this one…not likely.”

Jack clenches his jaw.  Even at this range, Grant was far too unpredictable, he could miss, and he couldn’t risk that again.  For a moment the two simply glare at one another.

JACK (WHISPERING)
“Just let her go Tom.”

Thomas’ glare softens a bit.  He may be a murderer, but he’s still human and not without some compassion.

THOMAS
“And what…turn myself in to you? Go away quietly?  You’re not even a cop anymore Jack!  What the fuck is in your head?  There is nothing to gain from all of this!  So your fucking career is over…my son is still dead! What the fuck do you care about any of it?”

JACK
“You took everything from her.  You took everything from ME!”

THOMAS
“I took everything away.  Do you actually believe that shit?  You shot that bitch, not me.  That was all you friend.”

JACK
“You put her in front of the gun motherfucker!  You pulled her in and you set me up!”

THOMAS
“Still blaming me for your mistakes.  You don’t see me blaming you for my son’s cancer, do you?  Gonna blame me for your divorce next?”

The words hit Jack hard, souring his gut.  The wounds are still fresh.

JACK (THROUGH GRITTED TEETH)
“You motherfucker…”

THOMAS
“I’ve heard this story before Jack.  Give it up.  Mommy and I are taking a walk out back and you’re not gonna move or…”

A sudden and all-too familiar clicking sound is heard from behind Jack.  With an expert motion, Jack spins to his left, seizes the barrel of the shotgun that the now-conscious Innkeeper is leveling off and deprives the man’s hands of the weapon.  Completing the spin he moves to level his own weapon off at Thomas but is met with the sprawling form of the hostage.  Shrugging off the woman, Jack levels off his gun at the open doorway in front of him.

JACK
“Fuck!”

Jack, stooping to drop the shotgun, runs to the door, glances outside, then readies and ducks out the door to pursue.

The couple is on the ground, the Innkeeper holding his wife, the little girls hugging the parents.  They are unnaturally calm for the events that just occurred.

KATE
“Carl…call the Sheriff.”

EXT. SAUL’S VIEW-CHASE SCENE
The pursuit continues.  Jack continues after Thomas, the two embarking on yet another chapter in the lives of two disgraced and fallen men.  Thomas, the leaner of the two, is able to keep ahead of Jack, and keep the former cop at bay with occasional shots to pin him down.  The two weave in and out of alley ways and around buildings.  At the corner of one building, Jack checks the path and moves to chase but is pinned back with three rapid shots from Thomas.  He returns fire but hits nothing but air.  The two stop to reload, a brief exchange occurs between them in the moment of silence in the dying town.

THOMAS
“Come on Jack.  Thought they taught you cops how to shoot.  Guess you didn’t qualify with that one, huh?”

JACK
“Fuck you, Tom.  Give me a chance and I’ll solve all your problems.”

Jack checks the corner quickly and sees Tom running off around a building.  He follows suit and breaks off after him.  The two eventually come to open ground.  Railroad tracks cross the gravel covered land, the air a dead silence.  Tom sprints across the tracks.  Jack runs after him, then stops and drops to one knee aiming the weapon right at Tom’s back.

JACK
“FREEZE!”

Tom continues running, trying desperately to make it to the cover of a nearby building.  Jack squeezes off a shot.  Mid-stride, Tom stumbles and slams into the building, the bullet having torn clean through his right calf.  He hits the building corner and ducks around the side.

JACK
“Got you motherfucker.”

Jack sprints towards the building, bloodstains on the pavement confirming the shot.  Sliding along the wall, Jack comes to the corner, glances around, takes a deep breath and turns to face the steel face of a giant Mill.  The silver walls of the relic are heavily tarnished and marred by time exposed to the elements, an obvious remnant of times long ago when the town of Saul’s View was once prosperous and vibrant, yet now a hollow shell of life discarded by time.  Jack glimpses the limping Tom duck around the back side of the Mill and he pursues.  Jack moves cautiously around the building, sweat pouring off of him in the heat of the day.  As he rounds the corner and passes by a long-forgotten guard shack, he sees Tom duck into the Mill’s only entrance, a massive steel panel door that opens into the darkness of the abandoned structure.  A bloody handprint stains the outside of the door.
JACK (MUTTERING)
“Shit.”

INT. MILL
Taking a deep breath, wiping his forehead, Jack ducks into the opening and is swallowed by the gloom before him.  He immediately thrusts his back to the wall and waits silently for his eyes to adjust and his heart to slow down, the only sound audible is the rushed thumping in his ears.  His eyes adjusted he steps away from the wall and slowly heads further into the mill, gun at the ready.
As he passes through a doorway into another section, he fails to see the words “His Judgment Cometh, And That Right Soon” painted in very hurried letters above the door.
The mill is as terrible on the inside as it looks on the outside.  The office spaces are marred from years of disuse, dust covers everything, and anything metal bears the rusty streaks of water damage and mold.  Jack moves slowly in the unfamiliar environment.

JACK
“Where’s a fucking tetanus shot when you need one.”

Moving along a steel wall he comes to some stairs the bottom below far too dark for his eyes.  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flat flashlight with a pocket grip and fastens it to his shirt.  Flicking it on, it illuminates the greasy, metal floor of the room, a red shine catching his eye.  Reaching down, a finger reveals the liquid for what it is.

JACK
“Bleed you piece of shit.”

Checking the stairwell, he slowly makes his way down it, his shoes the only sound in the space as he moves further ahead.  Suddenly a horrifying stench hits his nose.  He gags slightly and pulls out a handkerchief to hold over his nose.

JACK
“Aw, fuck me.”

As he steps forward, the odor of decay and rot seeping through the rag, he suddenly feels his foot fall into something wet and thick that gives way much too quickly.  Glancing down, he sees the pile of excrement he blundered into and his eyes widen.

JACK (HISSING)
“Goddammit.”

Putting his back against the wall, he reaches down with the now useless rag and attempts to wipe off his shoe, his eyes suddenly catching something.  Stooping down, he aims his light at the pile and grimaces.  Dropping the rag, he pulls out a long metal probe and sticks it into the pile.  The sensation makes him spit.  Lifting out the probe, his light illuminates the long knotted mass of hair, clumped feces still clinging to them.

JACK (SLOWLY)
“What the fuck?”

Dropping the hair mass and the probe, Jack stands up slowly, eyes fixated on the strange evidence.  A large dark figure in the shadows behind him suddenly vanishes upward into the darkness.  Turning, Jack pops his neck and continues forward.

INT. MILL
Thomas is sitting in a corner, his breathing ragged, sweat pouring off of him.  He sets his gun down and strips off his belt.  Pulling out a small knife, he cuts a hole into the leather.  Agony etched onto his face, he fights to remain silent as he pulls his wounded leg up.  Hurriedly he wraps the belt around his upper thigh above the wound and straps it tightly.  A muffled hiss of pain escapes his gritted teeth as he straps the belt tightly around his leg and fashions a slight tourniquet.  As he finishes, he goes limp, his breath harsh.  The quiet of the mill surrounds him.  As he rests, his eyes closed, a sudden noise nearby jolts him back to awareness.  He rubs the sweat out of his eyes trying desperately to fight through the darkness.  He fails to see anything, but he knows the truth.

He is being watched.

As he glances around, he slowly picks up his gun.  The dark figure silently drops down off to his left like an animal and rises to its full height.  It starts to move forward, the smell of blood thick in the air, it’s nostrils twitching.  A flashing light catches its attention as Jack enters the room.  Thomas also sees it and struggles to stand up, his back pressed to the wall.  The figure regards the situation and drops back into the shadows.

Grant takes a silent breath and begins to move backwards into the darkness.

JACK
“Grant!”

The commanding yell suddenly pierces the silence.  Grant, heaving, continues backwards but suddenly stumbles over something large on the floor.  He hits the floor with a bang, a harsh groan emitting as he suffers a knock to his wounded leg.

Jack hears the noise and turns towards it slowly.

Squinting, Thomas fumbles for his footing and his hands find the object he fell over.  The object is cold and hard, but feels all too familiar.  He swallows hard as his hands move over the object, the horrifying realization growing and finalizing as his hands run over the greasy, exposed and decaying ribcage of a human corpse.  Recoiling, he fights to stand up and staggers off into the darkness.

Jack rounds the corner his gun aimed into the darkness.  Stepping forward, the light catches the gruesome remains of a naked female, horribly disfigured, the skin of its face chewed away, massive and deep bite marks cover the corpse, one arm is horribly shorn from the right shoulder, one section of the chest from collar bone to pelvis completely stripped of flesh, the ragged bone exposed.  To Jack’s expert eyes, the girl was in her early 20’s and had been dead a long time.

JACK (WHISPERING)
“Jesus.”

His gaze lifts from the tattered corpse to the gaping darkness before him.

JACK
“Grant!  Where are you?”

INT. MILL
Grant stops short, his breath coming in gasps.  Sweat is pouring off of him.  He hits a wall and staggers a bit.  Suddenly he gags and vomits.  His breathing is stuttered and his skin is slightly pallid.  His eyes close as he tries to regain is strength, but the stifling heat is relentless and the blood loss is beginning to take its toll.

JACK
“Grant!”

Thomas hears the cop’s voice as though from far away.  He steps away from the wall but suddenly falls down to his side.  He grits his teeth and fights to sit up.  He can vaguely see the flashlight cutting through the darkness.

THOMAS (WHISPERING)
“Ok, motherfucker, let’s go.”

He raises the gun prepared to cut Jack in half the moment he appears.

Jack slowly makes his way down the hallway, the flashlight exposing more secrets than he cares to see.  Blood splatters, handprints, tattered and blood stained clothes are strewn everywhere, piles of rotting excrement are everywhere, a pair of glasses, a broken ceramic doll, a bloody and shredded bra, piles of newspaper and cardboard boxes.  As he turns, his flashlight suddenly catches the glint of light off metal and he ducks just as a shot peels forth and ricochets off the nearby wall.  Quickly, Jack hits the button for the flashlight and darkness surrounds the two men.

JACK
“Come on Tom! You had me cold. What happened?”

THOMAS (HARSHLY)
“Fuck you, asshole!”

JACK
“You’re not making it out of here Tom, just give it up.  Make it easy on yourself.  It’s over.”

THOMAS
“So why are you down here Jack?  Saving that last shot for me?”

Jack clenches his jaw and, in anger, steps out into the hallway.  The darkness is thick, but he can see Thomas sitting down with his side pressed to the wall.  The gun is waving slightly.  Jack grins and levels off his weapon at the exposed and weakened Thomas.

JACK (WHISPERING)
“So long Tom.”

He suddenly freezes as a flash of movement distracts him and a massive dark figure appears behind Thomas.

JACK
“Oh my god…Grant!”

Thomas twists around and levels the gun off at the incoming threat, but his hand is slapped viciously away and his gun clatters across the floor, lost in the shadows.  Steely hands grab Grant by his face and suddenly the smell of rotten meat fills his nose as the creature’s yawning mouth approaches.  With a shout, Grant kicks up between the beast’s legs.  With an inhuman yelp, the thing backs off for a moment and disappears into the darkness.  Thomas’ eyes scan the area trying to see where the creature went.  Jack sees the movement first.  Thomas is simply too tired and distracted from his injuries.

JACK
“Tom!”

The warning comes too late as the figure appears and seizes Grant by his head and throat and lifts him into the air like a ragdoll then twists and slams him headfirst into the concrete wall.  A sick crack tells Jack everything he needs to know.  For a moment, the beast holds his victim there.  Grant’s fingers are buried into the thick meat of the creature’s forearms, clutching at any life that he might still have left.

THOMAS (WHISPERING)
(unintelligable)

Another sharp thrust against the wall and Grant’s arms go limp and is dropped to the floor.  The being in front of him then drops down to the prone Grant, hellish grunts and snarls emitting into the darkness as it proceeds to tear at his clothes.  Jack, eyes frozen at the horror playing out before him, aims his gun at the creature.

JACK
“Freeze!”

The creature stops its frantic actions and turns towards Jack suddenly rising up to its full height.  Jack sucks in a breath.

JACK (WHISPERING)
“Sweet Jesus.”

The massive creature begins to creep forward towards Jack, the smell of fresh blood pungent in the air around it.  It’s pallid skin is a mass of long puckered scars coated in thick pipe grease, exacerbating the definition in its thickly muscled arms and legs.  Its hands are coated in grease and dried blood, the nails long, ragged and torn and it is completely hairless.  But the eyes of the being are what catch the ex-cop off-guard, the man who thinks he has seen everything.  Whitish, blue iris’s surround a black pupil, evidence of the lifetime this beast spent in the dark, its vision mutated to fit its environment.  Mostly though, Jack sees the image of a creature not of the earth, with an agenda lost only to itself.  It suddenly roars at him, the sound terrible in the cramped space.  In a panic, Jack fires off a shot into the hallway and catches a hanging pipe.  Pressurized steam vents out into the hallway and obscures everything.  The creature howls and turns down the corridor vanishing into the darkness.

Jack turns quickly and tears off through the darkened corridors back to the exit.  His breath comes in gasps, the fear controlling him.  Quickly snapping on the flashlight, he finds his way through the building, up the stairs and into the office rooms and finally into the safety of the open day of the outside.

EXT. SAUL’S VIEW
Staggering into the humidity drenched heat of the late day, he falls to his knees and promptly retches at the ground.

Coughing roughly, he wipes his mouth and stands up, regaining his bearings.

MALE VOICE
“Congratulations.”

JACK (TURNING AROUND)
“What?”

A 2×4 suddenly catches Jack across the face sending him reeling.  Before he can react, the board swings again and sends him sprawling into the dirt, the blow knocking him silly.

Carl, his face clean now, drops the board and an old cop appears and slaps him on the back.

SHERIFF
“Good work Carl.”

CARL
“It’s alright Sheriff.  I’m gonna head back to Katie, she’s fixin’ supper bout now.

SHERIFF
“Sounds good.  I’ll call once we’re done with him.”

CARL (NODDING)
“Make it quick.  Katie’s biscuits don’t stay hot forever.”

SHERIFF (LAUGHING)
“Ain’t that the truth.”

Carl lumbers off to the Inn as the Sheriff approaches Jack’s twitching form.  The old cop squats down in beside him.
SHERIFF
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
JACK (MUMBLING)
“Why…what’s going…”

SHERIFF
“Once again we’re brought upon by the sinners of the outside world.  Our good works envied and sought by our enemies.”

Jack tries to roll over onto his stomach.  The officer suddenly grabs him by his hair and lifts his head up to face him.

SHERIFF
“The Lord gave unto us the doorway to Judgment here in Saul’s View.  One day the Good Lord will shine down on us for our work…to deliver the sinners He has fated to be here…and we shall be troubled no more by your kind.”

A fist suddenly comes out of nowhere and Jack is sent into darkness.

EXT. SAUL’S VIEW-EVENING

STREET PREACHER (V.O.)
“Why have I seen it?  They are terrified, they are drawing back, and their mighty men are defeated and have taken refuge in flight!”

Jack slowly comes to, his eyes stuttering open.  The side of his face is numb and he can taste dried blood on his lips.

STREET PREACHER
“Terror is on every side!” declares the Lord! Let not the swift man flee, nor the mighty man escape, for they have stumbled and fallen!”

The voice of the preacher jolts him out of his stupor and he quickly realizes that he is bound with his own cuffs and his legs are tied at the ankles.  The heat of fire catches his attention and he sees the image play out before him.  The townspeople are gathered around.  Several have torches lit.  Many are armed with various instruments.  Jack’s eyes fall on two little girls on their knees praying together.  He recognizes Carl and his wife standing near them, holding hands, a wicked pitchfork in Carl’s off hand.

JACK (YELLING)
“What are you people doing?”

A swift kick to his side, suddenly silences him.  He is left choking in the dust.

SHERIFF
“The wicked are finished in Saul’s View!  You’re to be judged as the Good Lord intends!”

JACK
“What?”

KATE
“Your kind brings with it hate and death.  Fear and despair.  No place for you in our town!”

Incredulous, Jack cannot find a response and is shocked as two powerful hands lift him out of the dirt and off his feet.  The Sheriff steps in front of him.

SHERIFF
“May God have mercy on your soul friend.  May the devil be paid with your blood.”

The two men haul Jack forward.  Twisting slightly he can see he is being carried back towards the mill.  He panics and fights back but is met with a sharp steel blow to his sternum that steals his breath away, the townie’s shovel withdrawing out of his peripheral vision.  His vision hazy, the acrid smell of the townie’s flare fills his every sensation.

INT. MILL
Jack is dropped heavily onto the metal grating of the Mill.  His breath is ragged and the smell of death and decay hits his nose like a fist.  He gags at the revolting stench.  One of the men stoops down and leans close to him.

TOWNIE (WHISPERING)
“Blessed are those who die in the Lord.”

Standing, the two men stand begin to make their way out of the mill.  Suddenly a sharp crack is heard and one of the men staggers backwards and into the adjacent wall. A figure in the dark, wielding a massive pipe, brings the end around again and smashes it into the head of the man.  The second one tries to jump him from behind but he catches him in the sternum sending him back.  Whirling, the figure brings the pipe down on the head of the second man with a heavy grunt.  The figure then turns to face Jack, his form shadowed by the flare-light behind him.  Dropping the dripping pipe, the figure moves forward quickly towards Jack.  Jack’s eyes go wide and he panics.  He struggles against his bonds sputtering.

JACK
“Fuck you, motherfucker, I’ll fucking kill-”

A hand claps over his mouth.  The hardened eyes of the Bartender look deep into his.

BARTENDER (HISSES)
“Shut up, or we’re both gonna die.”

Jack looks unbelieving at the man before him.

BARTENDER
“I told you, you shouldn’t be here.  You have the keys to these cuffs?”

Jack simply stares at him.

BARTENDER
“Keys.”

JACK
“Underside of my belt.”

The bartender pulls off Jack’s belt and finds a key taped to the inside of it.

BARTENDER
“Smart.”

After removing his cuffs, the bartender pulls out a knife and cuts the bonds around Jack’s legs.  Jack quickly reaches down and feels for his backup gun harnessed around his ankle.  The empty space forces a cringe.

BARTENDER
“Can you walk?”

JACK (GROANING)
“Yeah.  What now?”

BARTENDER
“Well I figure we can make our way to the back exit from here.”

Behind the men, greasy, pallid, and clawed fingers silently grip the pipe and pull it out of sight.
BARTENDER

“There’s an old fire tunnel that leads out past the tracks and to an escape door.”

JACK
“Will they be watching it?”

BARTENDER
“Doubt it, but better them out there than what’s in here.”

The Bartender turns to head out, but is stopped when Jack grabs his arm and turns him back around.

JACK
“What exactly is in here?”

BARTENDER
“I don’t know, just that whatever it is, its-”

The Bartender’s words are cut short as the bloodstained pipe suddenly swings out of nowhere and catches him in the side of the head with a terrible crack.  Blood sprays Jack in the face as the Bartender falls down dead, his skull caved in like an egg.  The pipe clatters to the metal floor.

JACK
“Fuck!”

The creature roars from its hiding place above him, amongst the pipes, and suddenly drops down to the floor, crouched and snarling, its eyes wide, muscles twitching.  

The creature suddenly launches at Jack with incredible speed and catches him in the crotch with a powerful blow and then under the chin with a sharp headbutt.  The hits send him sprawling to the metal on his stomach and the beast is on him in a heartbeat tearing, biting and chewing into his back.

JACK
“Aaaaah, get off me!”

Unheeded, the beast continues to shred into Jack’s back.  He can feel the blood flowing down his sides.  His fingers grip into the grating below him as he searches for anything to help him.  His eyes fall onto a rusted hunk of metal.  Straining and fighting against the agony, he finally grips the broken chunk of piping and swings it over his head behind him.  A sharp sound and the creature’s howling suddenly pitches forth and the weight is instantly off his back.  

He rolls onto his side and twists around to face the creature.  It is crouched over the bartender’s body, blood pouring from a massive gash in it’s forehead, but seemingly unfazed by the wound.  It’s breathing is harsh and its eyes and mouth are wide open, blood pouring from the twisted, gaping maw.  In the flickering light of the flare, movements begin to slow, and Jack’s thoughts begin to wander.

JACK (V.O.)
“POLICE! FREEZE!”

The words echo in his mind.  Suddenly he is back in the bank.

INT. BANK-DAY
JACK
“Put the gun down! NOW!”

The young woman’s eyes raise to her captor, then move to meet Jack’s.  He glances at her and Grant’s gun flashes outward towards Jack.  Jack flinches and fires off a round.  A second shot rings out and catches him in the arm.  He hits the ground.  The gun skitters away from him on the cold tile.

WOMAN (O.S.)
“Oh my god! (SCREAMS)

Jack is lying on the ground staring into the lifeless eyes of the woman he shot.  The bullet hole in her forehead the only blemish on her.  His eyes move down her form, past the slender name tag on her shirt, to her frozen, lifeless hands clasped over her slightly protruding stomach.  His eyes go wide as the reality begins to pound at him.

INT. MILL
Jack snaps out of his daze and his hollow eyes meet the creature’s before him.  The words of the preacher suddenly return to him in a moment of realization.

PREACHER (V.O.)
“For your sins reach unto the heavens…”

The creature begins to move forward.

PREACHER (V.O.)
...and your iniquities are remembered.”

With a sharp snarl, the beast rushes forward.

BLACKOUT

FADE IN SCENE

EXT. MILL-SUNSET
The townspeople have all left the mill area.  The sky i

Reviews

Showing 1 - 6 of 6