7173 lines
240 KiB
Plaintext
7173 lines
240 KiB
Plaintext
THE HURT LOCKER
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Written by
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Mark Boal
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Story by
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Mark Boal & Kathryn Bigelow
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First Draft REVISIONS
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"The rush of battle is a potent and often lethal addiction, for
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war is a drug."
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Chris Hedges, WAR IS A FORCE THAT GIVES US MEANING
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"The worst imaginable news: war thrives because enough men still
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love it."
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TIME
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BLACK SCREEN
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Over the BUZZING sound of an electric engine we--
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CUT TO:
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EXT STREET/DAWN
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A grainy, low-resolution view, seen from sixteen inches above
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street level. And we're moving fast -- nauseatingly fast.
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From this angle close to the ground we FLY down a road strewn
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with war garbage: munitions, trash, rubber, animal shit --
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all of which, from this odd, jarring perspective, looks
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gigantic, monstrous.
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We zoom towards a crumpled COKE CAN, the white `C' growing
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enormous on the screen, filling the screen like a skyscraper.
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We SMASH into the can and barrel ahead.
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A RAG flutters, blocks the view, then tumbles away, as we --
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-- zoom downhill, see nothing but gray sand, then zoom back
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up hill and off, catching air, a flash of the horizon line,
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BRIGHT SUN, and land hard on a packed road.
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We close in on one particular pile of trash, which is topped
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with a white plastic garbage bag, and stop. Puffs of dust
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and fluttering plastic.
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We glide across the fluttering plastic. Flies buzzing.
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Advancing slowly, inch by inch, to the edge for our first
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glimpse inside the bag:
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A RUSTY ARTILLERY SHELL.
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CUT TO:
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EXT MIDDLE EASTERN STREET/DAWN
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A military ROBOT (about 3 feet long and 2 feet high, aka `the
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bot') that rolls on tank-like treads and has a mechanical
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hand and an array of CAMERAS is moving around the bag.
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TITLE OVER:
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BAGHDAD, IRAQ - JANUARY, 2005
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This is all taking place on a dusty stretch of road in a
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quiet section of Baghdad, barren except for a few shops, some
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cement houses and a couple of parked cars.
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2
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THE U.S. MILITARY HAS CONTROL OF THE CITY, BUT INSURGENT
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GROUPS ARE MOUNTING FRESH ATTACKS IN AN ATTEMPT TO DISRUPT
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THE UPCOMING ELECTIONS ON 31 JANUARY 2005.
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THEY'VE ADOPTED A DEADLY NEW TACTIC, USING I.E.D.s -
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IMPROVISED EXPLOSIVE DEVICES - TO AMBUSH AMERICAN TROOPS. THE
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BODY COUNT IS RISING.
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IN RESPONSE, THE ARMY HAS DEPLOYED THE LAST OF ITS ELITE BOMB
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SQUAD UNITS, HOPING THAT THESE THREE MAN TEAMS CAN DISARM THE
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BOMBS BEFORE THEY EXPLODE, AND STEM THE TIDE OF DESTRUCTION.
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SOUND of far off GUNSHOTS and CALL to prayer.
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SEVERAL U.S. INFANTRY SOLDIERS are moving PEDESTRIANS away
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from the bag. Another group of SOLDIERS is clearing out all
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the shops: bakery, sandwich shop, and a butcher shop.
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Next to a parked Humvee, THREE EOD (Explosive Ordinance
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Disposal, aka Bomb Squad) SOLDIERS are crouched over a laptop
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computer, looking at the screen and the same image of the
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metal artillery shell inside the fluttering plastic.
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SERGEANT MATT THOMPSON wipes at the sweat on his forehead.
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This is summer in the desert and the median temperature on
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this bright clear morning is 110 degrees.
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THOMPSON
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It's to the left.
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Thompson tears open a mushy Snicker's. He is fleshy around
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the arms and middle, but there's real muscle underneath the
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flab and truth be told, after so many years in EOD, he's lost
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the need to have a show-off build.
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SANBORN
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Going left.
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SERGEANT J. T. SANBORN works the joystick on the laptop. He
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is a strapping Iowa farm boy, with a thick back from bailing
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hay. In contrast to his bulky frame, his face is soft, open,
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kind. He has a relaxed demeanor. Which might lead you to
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think nothing ever bothers Sanborn. But if you thought that,
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you'd be mistaken. Before joining EOD, Sanborn was in
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Military Intelligence. He quit. Military Intel was too easy.
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THOMPSON
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Up a little.
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LAPTOP SCREEN
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Rusty artillery shell now almost full frame.
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3
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SANBORN
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SANBORN
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There?
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THOMPSON
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Closer. I want to see the ojive.
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Zoom on the nose cone of the shell.
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The third soldier leans in for a better look.
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SPECIALIST OWEN ELDRIDGE is a tall, lanky young man, the
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youngest of the group. He's a fighter like the others but
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also a reader, and something of a thinker. Eldridge crouches
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behind the other two soldiers, sipping a bottle of water,
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eyes never leaving the screen.
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THOMPSON
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Push it in.
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SANBORN
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I can't get it inside.
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THOMPSON
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Pretend it's your dick.
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SANBORN
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(SMILES)
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I'm pretending it's your dick.
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Eldridge laughs. He clearly likes the two men he's with.
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THOMPSON
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Let me try.
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SANBORN
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Give me a second.
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THOMPSON
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Give me a crack at it.
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SANBORN
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Shit. Okay.
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They change places. Thompson now on the controls.
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THOMPSON
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Hello mamma. See that?
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SANBORN
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Looks like a one-five-five.
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4
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Eldridge gets up and goes to the Humvee, fishes around
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inside.
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THOMPSON
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Yeah. That can do some damage.
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SANBORN
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We're going to need a charge.
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Eldridge is already on it, approaching with the four blocks
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of C4. He's done this enough to know what they need.
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ELDRIDGE
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Figured four blocks. Hey with these
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four blocks and the ninety pounds,
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are we going to be far enough away?
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Now we see the tiny toy robot in the far distance -- far, far
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away.
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Behind the Humvee and on either side of the road INFANTRY
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SOLDIERS are still clearing civilian onlookers from nearby
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stores.
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Thompson stands and takes a good look at his surroundings.
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THOMPSON
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The blast is going to roll out
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there (pointing) the shell will
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probably kick out there (pointing),
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and most of the shrapnel is going
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to rain up in an umbrella pattern.
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Some smaller pieces and shell
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fragments will come out this way --
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but we'll be okay if we are behind
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the truck.
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The idea that he would be standing in the open amuses
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Eldridge.
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ELDRIDGE
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You know I'll be behind the truck.
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THOMPSON
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Nothing wrong with that, Owen.
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Let's get the area cleared--
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(looks around at the crowd
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OF ONLOOKERS)
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--as best we can, then load up the
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bot.
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5
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Eldridge double times it over to a nearby soldier. Together
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they herd away various bystanders.
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CUT TO:
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DOWNRANGE
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The bot dutifully makes its return voyage to the plastic bag,
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this time towing a cart which is loaded with C4 and a
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blasting cap, and a coil of unspooling detonation wire.
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The robot hits a bump causing the blasting cap to tumble to
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the ground, where it begins to roll --
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UPRANGE
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Everyone cringes. The cap doesn't explode. Close call.
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SANBORN
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Damn.
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DOWNRANGE
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The blasting cap has rolled into a gully, out of reach of the
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robot hand.
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UPRANGE
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Sanborn wiggles the stick. It's not happening.
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SANBORN
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Matt, the bot's not going to do it.
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THOMPSON
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Keep trying.
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DOWNRANGE
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The robot hand tries again. No dice.
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UPRANGE
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THOMPSON
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Okay, you're right. I have to go
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down there - don't you think?
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Sanborn nods.
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6
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THOMPSON
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I don't want to wait around here in
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this neighborhood anyway.
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SANBORN
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(WRYLY)
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What, you don't like it here?
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THOMPSON
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Let's just get me dressed.
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CUT TO:
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HUMVEE
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Sanborn unpacks "THE SUIT." A bizarre contraption that looks
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like an astronaut suit and helmet crossed with the Michelin
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Man. Because of its weight and complexity it takes two men to
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put it on - or one Sanborn.
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Sanborn kneels down and guides Thompson's feet into the
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suit's black boots, then lashes up a series of Velcro straps
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to secure the armor, like a squire working on a knight.
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A strap near the crotch prompts Thompson to wisecrack:
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THOMPSON
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Watch it.
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SANBORN
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(SMILING)
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I thought you already had your
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children, Sergeant.
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THOMPSON
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Need to keep my options open.
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Thompson twists to get his chest protector on. Eyes tight,
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brow furrowed, squints into the far distance. That's going
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to be a mean motherfucker.
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THOMPSON
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Okay. I'm going to make my
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approach. This area looks okay. No
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power-lines. Clean line of sight.
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If it looks alright when I get down
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there, I'm going to plug it in and
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we'll just blow it. Boom -- no more
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bomb -- give these people something
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to think about.
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(MORE)
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7
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THOMPSON (CONT'D)
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I want them to know if they're
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going to leave a bomb on the side
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of the road for us, we're going to
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blow up their little road. Leave
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them a crater and an ear ache.
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Sanborn and Thompson put in their earplugs.
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SANBORN
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Ready?
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Thompson nods.
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THOMPSON
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I'm craving a hamburger, is that
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strange?
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Next, Sanborn takes a metal helmet with a thick glass front
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and seals Thompson's face in. Sanborn attaches the breathing
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hose. Taps his boss on the shoulder.
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SANBORN
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Not for you. (sealing him in)
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Happy trails.
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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This is Blaster One.
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SANBORN
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(INTO WALKIE)
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Copy, that. Blaster One. You're
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good to go.
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Thompson turns to face the white bag and begins his walk
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toward it.
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EXT. ROAD DAY
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Thompson's stride is slowed by the eighty-pound suit...He
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CLUNKS down the road. Dust clouding from his boots...
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He moves past the same mounds of charred and rotting stuff,
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inner tubes, soda bottles, crumpled cans, steaming animal
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waste, and bits of fluttering plastic that the bot passed...
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The question is not - do you see a white garbage bag? It's
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which of these bags is the BOMB?
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Sweat slides down into his eyes.
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8
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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200 meters. It's boiling in here.
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UPRANGE
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SANBORN
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(INTO WALKIE)
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Copy that. 200 meters.
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The RASP of Thompson's BREATHING loud on Sanborn's walkie-
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talkie...
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DOWNRANGE
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Thompson walks on.
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A knot of flies floats in the air in front of his helmet. He
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lifts an arm and they disappear.
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The desert sun glints off a nearby car and momentarily
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bleaches his mask bright white.
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A YOUNG GIRL with an INFANT BABY in her arms appears in a far
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off doorway, then withdraws out of sight.
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He looks down, CAREFULLY watches his footfalls. Garbage
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piled on top of garbage.
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UPRANGE
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Eldridge and Sanborn are at the ready, scanning the area and
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watching Thompson.
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THOMPSON (0.S)
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(OVER WALKIE)
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One hundred.
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SANBORN
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(INTO WALKIE)
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Copy, that. 100 meters out.
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DOWNRANGE
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Thompson: careful footfalls on sand.
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Breathing. Heat. Sun. Sweat. Flies.
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Suddenly a DOG out of nowhere charges, BARKING ferociously.
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9
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Thompson is momentarily startled. Then resumes his walking.
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The dog runs off.
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Thompson blinks more sweat out of his eyes.
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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Twenty five.
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UPRANGE WITH SANBORN
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Sanborn lifts the walkie. Sweat in his eyes. Wipes it away.
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SANBORN
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Copy twenty five. You're in the
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kill zone.
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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Thanks for reminding me.
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Eldridge nods. Everything progressing nice and easy.
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DOWNRANGE WITH THOMPSON
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Thompson is standing over the blasting cap.
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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Alright. I'm here. I'm gonna put it
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in.
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SANBORN
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(OVER WALKIE)
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Copy that.
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Thompson picks the blasting cap off the ground and looks up --
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As distant THUMP of approaching chopper wash quickly becomes
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super loud in his ears.
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SANBORN
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(OVER WALKIE)
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Hold on. Bird coming in.
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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I hear it.
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Thompson pulls the cap back out. He looks up to see the giant
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black shape passing over him.
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10
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[Note: we see now what Thompson is worried about: as it chops
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the air, a helicopter rotor produces static electricity. We
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see this electricity as a faint, nearly transparent rippling
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wave.]
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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Guy is trying to kill me.
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The helicopter turns, and swings back around.
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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If he brings that electricity back
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here, I'm going to put a bullet in
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his tail.
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The helicopter banks in the other direction, away from
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Thompson.
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UPRANGE
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A collective sigh of relief.
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SANBORN
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Jesus. (into walkie) I think he
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figured out we were EOD. You're
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good, Blaster One.
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DOWNRANGE
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Thompson inserts the cap back into the C4.
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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We're armed and ready to blow,
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Blaster Mike.
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SANBORN
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(OVER WALKIE)
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Copy that. You coming back?
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THOMPSON
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(HEADSET)
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Copy that, I'm on my way.
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Thompson gets up. Looks around at the expanse of empty, still
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road under heavy guard.
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The war has stopped for him -- and he knows it.
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11
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Thompson begins to walk back uprange, looking carefully at
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the ground around him.
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UPRANGE
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Sanborn and Eldridge lower their rifles.
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DOWNRANGE
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Thompson carefully nudges a Coke can out of the way of his
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boots.
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UPRANGE
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Eldridge turns away from Thompson and opens the HUMVEE trunk
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to stow the bot.
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Sanborn swats a fly and takes a sip of water.
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Eldridge loads the bot. Out of the corner of his eye he sees
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some movement in the butcher shop.
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ELDRIDGE
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Hey Sanborn --
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SANBORN
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(TURNING)
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Yeah?
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ELDRIDGE
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Butcher shop - dude has a phone.
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SANBORN
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He shouldn't be --
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Eldridge is already moving towards the store.
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Sanborn raises his gun and puts it on the store. The back of
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Eldridge moving in and out of his scope. He can't get a
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shot.
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ELDRIDGE
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(shouting, waving his gun)
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Hey - put that down--
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The BUTCHER in a white apron nods and puts up his hand as if
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to say, `give me a minute.'
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12
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THOMPSON
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--walking towards the Humvee away from the bomb. Lumbering
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steps.
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THOMPSON
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
50 meters. Why is Eldridge running?
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
|
|
--RUNNING HARD--
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Hey - put the phone down!
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
--bolting sideways trying to get Eldridge out of his line of
|
|
SIGHT--
|
|
|
|
SANBORN ELDRIDGE
|
|
(shouting to Eldridge) PUT THE PHONE DOWN!
|
|
Burn him!
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
|
|
--legs pumping, his thumb flicks the rifle safety--
|
|
|
|
The butcher smiles. Gives Eldridge the thumbs up sign. His
|
|
other thumb is jamming a button on the phone.
|
|
|
|
Now Eldridge is panicked, shouting:
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
DROP THE PHONE!!!
|
|
|
|
|
|
THOMPSON
|
|
|
|
--starts to run. Fear in his eyes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BUTCHER
|
|
|
|
--smiles back at Eldridge--
|
|
|
|
MACRO: thumb on send button of the cell phone.
|
|
13
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
THOMPSON
|
|
|
|
--running full out now--
|
|
|
|
BOOM ---
|
|
|
|
- Fireball blasts out from the bomb
|
|
|
|
-- flattening Thompson
|
|
|
|
-- Blood splatters the inside of his helmet.
|
|
|
|
-- thick cloud of particulate matter roils out in slow motion
|
|
|
|
-- hitting Eldridge and Sanborn -- turning them black.
|
|
|
|
With the roiling cloud we begin to float up and out over the
|
|
entire city of Baghdad:
|
|
|
|
--we see intersections jammed with traffic; American Humvees
|
|
and tanks idle next to red-and-white taxis, beat-up Opals,
|
|
the military and civilian mixed up in one snarling line, all
|
|
competing for space, advantage...
|
|
|
|
--we continue to rise until we take in the entire massive
|
|
metropolis. Mosques and office towers ascend from a maze of
|
|
dusty streets teeming with life despite two decades of war...
|
|
|
|
The roiling black cloud thins in a light breeze and we hard
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
BLACK
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT CAMP VICTORY TRAILER DAY
|
|
|
|
A shaft of afternoon sun creeps past a plywood-covered
|
|
window, faintly lighting the interior of a narrow, low-
|
|
ceilinged room.
|
|
|
|
In the dimness we see contours: desk, chair, a large locker,
|
|
and the silhouette of a MAN moving a cot away from the
|
|
window. On the cot is a small duffle bag.
|
|
|
|
We hear a knock from the outside.
|
|
|
|
The man moving the cot stops.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah.
|
|
14
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN O.S.
|
|
Sergeant James?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
It's open.
|
|
|
|
The door opens and in the light we see Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Sergeant James. (extending his
|
|
hand) J.T. Sanborn. Welcome to
|
|
Bravo Company and welcome to Camp
|
|
Victory.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Victory? I thought this was called
|
|
Camp Liberty.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(SHRUGS)
|
|
They changed it last week. Victory
|
|
sounds better.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
It's Will. Good to meet you J.T.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT WILLIAM JAMES extends a hand. A former DELTA
|
|
soldier is in his late twenties, good-looking, appealing
|
|
face, solid build, one of the lucky ones. And yet, look
|
|
closer. In the right light, there's an unusual depth to his
|
|
expression, to his eyes and all-American face, as if he's
|
|
guarding an inner chaos that could rush out at any time.
|
|
|
|
Right now, however, James is doing his best to act like a
|
|
regular nice guy.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn looks around the empty room. One duffle.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
So, is that all you brought from
|
|
Kabul?
|
|
|
|
James motions to the locker.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah. Here, give me a hand with
|
|
this.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn helps James move the locker against the wall.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
By the window.
|
|
15
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They push the locker over the window, blocking the light.
|
|
It's very dark in the room now.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
A mortar once hit near my trailer --
|
|
boom -- a two inch piece of frag
|
|
cut through the aluminum and flew
|
|
this far (gesturing with his hands)
|
|
over my head, past my balls and
|
|
landed in my computer hard-drive.
|
|
Where's the damn light?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn finds the switch in the corner. Then he comes back
|
|
and taps the metal locker, testing its strength.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
This should stop any lateral
|
|
pieces.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah, I'm good unless it comes
|
|
through the roof (smiles) in which
|
|
case I'm gonna need a closed
|
|
casket.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn doesn't like the joke, tries to change gears.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
The accent -- you from Georgia?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Tennessee. Trailer park off I-5.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Oh, right. I'm from Vermont. You
|
|
know, "live free or die." Trees.
|
|
Snow. Maple syrup. Pot.
|
|
|
|
James gives him a polite smile.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn soldiers on:
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Well, if you need anything to get
|
|
squared away, just let me know.
|
|
Either myself or Owen -- Eldridge --
|
|
be happy to steer you in the right
|
|
direction for supplies, whatever.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Okay. (pause) Thanks.
|
|
16
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Anyway, the mess tent can be hard
|
|
to find the first time ... so ...
|
|
if you want ... we're going over
|
|
there now to grab chow ... come
|
|
along.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Thanks. But no.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
You want me to bring you back a
|
|
burger or something?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(shaking his head)
|
|
Nah. I'm good.
|
|
|
|
James unzips his duffle and gets up to put his clothes on an
|
|
overhead shelf. Sanborn watches him, then starts for the
|
|
door. James turns to face Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I'm sorry about Thompson, I heard
|
|
he was a good tech.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Yeah, he was. And he was a good
|
|
team leader too.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I know I can't fill his shoes, but
|
|
I'm here to try--
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Appreciate it.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
--but you know, if it's your time
|
|
it's your time. No man can change
|
|
that.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(PUZZLED)
|
|
Yeah, I guess that's true.
|
|
(RECOVERING)
|
|
So, we roll at oh-six-hundred.
|
|
|
|
James smiles slightly as he contemplates the next day's
|
|
mission.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Looking forward to it.
|
|
17
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT TRAILER MOMENTS LATER
|
|
|
|
Sanborn comes out and sees Eldridge, who has been waiting by
|
|
the door.
|
|
|
|
They walk towards the mess tent. Sanborn is absorbed in
|
|
thought. Eldridge doesn't want to interrupt.
|
|
|
|
After a moment.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
So?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
A good `ole boy. You know, loves
|
|
the Army, blood runs green. Country
|
|
boy. Seems solid.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
I always liked southerners, for
|
|
some reason.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Then he's just your type.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Why is it always the gay jokes with
|
|
you. It's not even funny.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(growing serious, he
|
|
imitates James' accent)
|
|
It's your time it's your time.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(CONCERNED)
|
|
He said that?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn nods.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY ELDRIDGE'S TRAILER EARLY MORNING
|
|
|
|
The sand has completed its daily march across Eldridge's
|
|
steps. His boots sweep a bit away as he steps outside in full
|
|
battle gear, and kisses a photo of the Virgin Mary and slips
|
|
it inside his helmet. He steps out into the bright morning
|
|
sun.
|
|
18
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY HUMVEE PARKING LOT
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is gearing up, strapping on a shitload of weapons and
|
|
ammunition. Ready for anything.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge comes up.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Where's the FNG?
|
|
|
|
[Note: FNG. Fucking New Guy.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT JAMES' TRAILER
|
|
|
|
Eldridge, surprised to see James is not outside ready to go,
|
|
knocks on his door.
|
|
|
|
Beat.
|
|
|
|
JAMES (O.S.)
|
|
Yeah?
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
It's oh-six-hundred.
|
|
|
|
The door opens a crack, revealing James dressed in his
|
|
skivvies and wrapped in a blanket, blinking awake.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Gimme a minute.
|
|
|
|
Before Eldridge can express the shock that's written all over
|
|
his face, James has closed the door.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY
|
|
|
|
An American Humvee drives past a long line of parked tanks
|
|
arranged in a neat rows, and gathering dust on all horizontal
|
|
surfaces.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is behind the wheel, simultaneously driving and
|
|
loading his rifle. James sits next to him in the passenger
|
|
seat, loading his rifle and looking out the window. Eldridge
|
|
is in the back seat.
|
|
19
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(looking out window)
|
|
Those Abrams have been parked ever
|
|
since I got here nine months ago,
|
|
and I ain't seen them move once.
|
|
They should put those on eBay.
|
|
Hey, J.T., how much you think one
|
|
of those would cost?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Ten million?
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Well I guess it makes sense.
|
|
Anybody comes alongside the Humvee,
|
|
we're dead. Anybody looks at you
|
|
funny, you're dead. Pretty much,
|
|
the bottom line, is if you're in
|
|
Iraq you're dead. How's a tank
|
|
going to stop that?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Gimme a break, Owen.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(SMILING)
|
|
Sorry. Just trying to scare the
|
|
new guy.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY/BAGHDAD OUTSKIRTS MORNING
|
|
|
|
The Humvee moves out of the base and into the outskirts of
|
|
the city. Heat and sand and little else.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
We had a few bombs up in Kabul too.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Sure, I bet you did. But you're
|
|
going to be real busy here, boss.
|
|
|
|
James smiles, settles back in the seat.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
The Humvee is now approaching a cluster of cars.
|
|
20
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Hey Owen -- watch the fucking road.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge moves up to the gunner's seat on top of the Humvee.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
Eldridge has a collection of rocks he keeps in the gunner's
|
|
nest and now he throws one at the car in front of him. The
|
|
passenger turns around.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Imshee -- Imshee !
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD STREET EARLY MORNING
|
|
|
|
The Humvee grinds to a stop on the outskirts of town. It's a
|
|
place teeming with trash, with dwellings that look as beaten
|
|
down as the people. The ghetto of the ghetto.
|
|
|
|
James is first out, Sanborn comes up behind him.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge climbs out of the turret.
|
|
|
|
They are now out in the open -- standing on Iraqi sand --
|
|
where anything can happen.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(TO ELDRIDGE)
|
|
Clear here.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge nods and begins turning suspicious bits of plastic
|
|
over with the tip of his boots.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Clear here.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(looking around at the
|
|
EMPTY STREET)
|
|
Where are the guys who called this
|
|
in?
|
|
|
|
James walks on. Sanborn and Eldridge exchange a glance `what
|
|
the hell,' and follow him.
|
|
21
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Victory Main, Victory Main, this is
|
|
Blaster Mike. Interogative, Do you
|
|
have an updated poz for the link-
|
|
up? Has their position changed?
|
|
|
|
After a moment a scratchy voice over his walkie.
|
|
|
|
DISPATCH O.S.
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster Mike, this is Victory Main.
|
|
Negative. Figures to follow. Three-
|
|
four-five-three is your grid. You
|
|
should have a visual on them right
|
|
now. They're waving an American
|
|
FLAG
|
|
|
|
Sanborn keys his GPSw unit.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Negative, Main. No one in sight.
|
|
|
|
DISPATCH O.S.
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster Mike. You should have a
|
|
visual, waving a flag.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
(looking at empty space) Well,
|
|
that's were I am and I don't see
|
|
any guys in fatigues, and I sure as
|
|
hell don't see any American flag,
|
|
Over.
|
|
|
|
James, Sanborn and Eldridge continue their slow walk down the
|
|
street. An empty Humvee comes into view.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
They abandoned their vehicle?
|
|
|
|
James walks forward. Unconcerned. Takes out a cigarette and
|
|
lights it. Sanborn's walkie comes to life.
|
|
|
|
DISPATCH O.S.
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Roger, Blaster. I copied you the
|
|
first time.
|
|
|
|
James approaches the empty Humvee.
|
|
22
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stops. Turns to see a tiny American flag being waved in the
|
|
window of a nearby building. James jogs over to the building,
|
|
opens the door.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hello boys --
|
|
|
|
Looking into a room full of SOLDIERS who are trying not to
|
|
look afraid.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Yeah, thanks. Roger that.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO SOLDIERS)
|
|
Don't tell me the bomb is in there
|
|
with you.
|
|
|
|
A SERGEANT, slightly embarrassed, climbs out into the open
|
|
and tries to act nonchalant.
|
|
|
|
He points down the block, which is a sea of trash and white
|
|
plastic bags.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
(pointing far down the
|
|
ROAD)
|
|
Down on that block, one of our
|
|
informants says there is an IED in
|
|
a white plastic bag.
|
|
|
|
James has heard enough and even though the Sergeant may have
|
|
more to say --
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I'll get it.
|
|
(turning to Sanborn)
|
|
Break out the suit.
|
|
(turning back to the
|
|
SERGEANT) )
|
|
Keep your guys back.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is already unloading the robot.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
What about the bot?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Don't need it.
|
|
23
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(SURPRISED)
|
|
What? Aren't we going to send the
|
|
bot down to take a look?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Nah, I'm going to take care of it.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn shoots Eldridge a look. Is he an FNG or what?
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and Eldridge kneeling before James, buckling on the
|
|
suit.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I was thinking if we sent the bot
|
|
down first --
|
|
|
|
James ignores him.
|
|
|
|
As soon as he's enclosed in the suit, James moves quickly
|
|
toward the rubble pile.
|
|
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
He's a rowdy boy.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
He's reckless.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Somebody should tell the U.N. to
|
|
send the rice in clear plastic bags
|
|
so there's no place to hide the
|
|
IEDs. The insurgent would be like,
|
|
`Allah has forsaken me all the bags
|
|
are clear'.
|
|
|
|
[Note: IED Improvised Explosive Device. A homemade bomb. The
|
|
number one weapon of the Iraqi insurgency.]
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(SMILING)
|
|
I've seen so much garbage I'm
|
|
starting to like the smell.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
24
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
As he advances downrange, he passes a line of bushes and
|
|
tosses an incendiary grenade at it, setting the foliage
|
|
ablaze.
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn looks on in confusion.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster One, what are you doing?
|
|
|
|
No answer.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster One, this is Blaster Mike,
|
|
what's with the fire on the side of
|
|
the road, over?
|
|
|
|
No answer. Sanborn and Eldridge struggle to get a visual.
|
|
They dash to a better vantage point.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Hey James, can you hear me? What's
|
|
with the fire on the side of the
|
|
road, over?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
FINALLY:
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(OVER HEADSET)
|
|
Creating a diversion.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn can barely see James through the flames and smoke.
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
He climbs up on top of the Humvee to get a better look but
|
|
gets only a partial view.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
From what? Is there a threat?
|
|
|
|
Eldridge scans the area with his rifle, tense, trying to
|
|
figure out how to behave.
|
|
25
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(TO ELDRIDGE)
|
|
Get up on that wall.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge hustles over to the wall, but can't manage to pull
|
|
himself up with all his gear on, so dashes down to a mound of
|
|
dirt, which gives him a leg up.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
James, I can't see you, over.
|
|
|
|
The last thing he expects is James' laconic reply:
|
|
|
|
JAMES O.S.
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Copy that.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn shoots Eldridge a look - what the fuck.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(TO ELDRIDGE)
|
|
Tell me what you see, Specialist.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge, on the wall, feels awfully vulnerable and in the
|
|
open. The wall is quite narrow. His feet are precariously
|
|
balanced. His view of James is not much better
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
I see his back. He's walking
|
|
downrange. Oh, I lost him.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Eldridge, move down that wall and
|
|
maintain a visual. Move. Move.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge teetering down the wall.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Roger, roger. I'm on him. He's
|
|
still walking.
|
|
|
|
SOUND of BREATHING in Sanborn's walkie.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
James, the smoke is killing my
|
|
visibility. Where are you in
|
|
relation to the IED? Are you 100
|
|
meters, yet?
|
|
26
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Hell, I don't know. I'll let you
|
|
know when I'm standing over it.
|
|
|
|
We see the world from James' point of view now, the city of
|
|
Baghdad has taken on an intense and dreamy hue, as if we're
|
|
in some sort of fugue state:
|
|
|
|
--He looks down the strange, threatening Iraqi street.
|
|
|
|
He walks on. The suit is heavy, little puffs of sand with
|
|
each footfall. The sun beats down.
|
|
|
|
James nears an intersection guarded on either side by a
|
|
Humvee and several SOLDIERS, when...
|
|
|
|
|
|
INTERSECTION
|
|
|
|
Suddenly a red-and-white TAXI swerves past the SOLDIERS on
|
|
the left side of the intersection. The soldiers take cover
|
|
and shout contradictory commands - Get Down Motherfucker!
|
|
Don't Move! Back up! Out of the vehicle!
|
|
|
|
The TAXI BRAKES in front of James.
|
|
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and Eldridge can hear the shouting but the lingering
|
|
smoke still obscures their sight.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
JAMES --
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(shouting to Sanborn)
|
|
Car! Car! A car stopped in front of
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
James' HEADSET WALKIE barks to life:
|
|
|
|
SANBORN O.S.
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Come back.
|
|
27
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James pulls a pistol from his holster, and --
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
I got it.
|
|
|
|
-- shoots two rounds into the dirt, near the car's front
|
|
tire.
|
|
|
|
DRIVER'S FACE
|
|
|
|
Impossible to read. Is he a taxi driver annoyed by the
|
|
roadblock, or an insurgent fighter getting ready to blow a
|
|
suicide bomb?
|
|
|
|
|
|
ONE OF THE ARMY SOLDIERS
|
|
|
|
With field glasses on the intersection he speaks into the
|
|
walkie.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
EOD has a nine on this Haji in the
|
|
car. I'm going to get two guys
|
|
over there to back him up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
Still can't see clearly. Processing this information. Turns
|
|
to Eldridge.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge using his rifle scope as well - shakes his head. No
|
|
visual.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(into walkie to soldier)
|
|
Negative, negative. You're too
|
|
close to the IED--
|
|
(HESITATING)
|
|
Stand down. EOD has the situation
|
|
under control.
|
|
|
|
Sweat on his forehead.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Now aiming at the windshield. But the driver is impassive.
|
|
28
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
Eldridge looks through his rifle scope.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(shouting to Sanborn)
|
|
We're in a kill zone!
|
|
|
|
|
|
INTERSECTION
|
|
|
|
James fires, shattering the windshield. But the car doesn't
|
|
budge.
|
|
|
|
James is pissed. He lunges through the windshield and jams
|
|
his gun into the driver's forehead.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Three or four rounds fired. The
|
|
nine is now pressing into the
|
|
Haji's forehead.
|
|
|
|
INTERSECTION
|
|
|
|
The gun digs into the driver's forehead. Beat. The driver
|
|
shifts into reverse.
|
|
|
|
He rolls back to the soldiers, who then rush the car, yank
|
|
the driver out, and deliver a savage beating as James looks
|
|
on.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(chuckling into his
|
|
HEADSET)
|
|
If he wasn't an insurgent he sure
|
|
as hell is now.
|
|
|
|
And he resumes his walk towards the white garbage bag and the
|
|
rubble pile, noting possible threats -- a MAN in a window
|
|
down the road.
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(coolly, into walkie)
|
|
Copy that.
|
|
(MORE)
|
|
29
|
|
|
|
SANBORN (CONT'D)
|
|
But I have no idea what you're
|
|
talking about, Blaster One, since I
|
|
can't see you. Over.
|
|
|
|
JAMES O.S.
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
I'll tell you later. James out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
PILE OF RUBBLE
|
|
|
|
One of a million in this city. James draws near. Two wires
|
|
protrude from the mess.
|
|
|
|
Moving quickly, he deftly removes rubble and trash to expose
|
|
the wires and the artillery shells they are attached to --
|
|
sees out of his peripheral vision the MAN in the window --
|
|
reaches for his pistol -- but the man disappears from view --
|
|
he then goes back to work, with swift sure hands. He loves
|
|
this, loves being close to oblivion.
|
|
|
|
The wires are exposed. He cuts one. Then flips the artillery
|
|
rounds over and cuts the other wire.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
We're done.
|
|
|
|
He stands and uses his big boot to clear more rubble. A
|
|
banana peel is pushed away, revealing:
|
|
|
|
Another wire snaking out of the ground.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Secondary!
|
|
|
|
James spins to look uprange. Sees Sanborn motioning for the
|
|
men to get down.
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(TO ELDRIDGE)
|
|
Off the wall, Owen!
|
|
(TO SOLDIERS)
|
|
Get behind something. Find cover.
|
|
|
|
Soldiers scrambling to find concrete to hide behind.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
30
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James YANKS the wire out of the dirt but it turns out to be
|
|
buried like a root, and the more he rips the more the wire is
|
|
revealed. He rips and rips, going back ten feet.
|
|
|
|
---The wire is stuck in the ground, and it will not come out
|
|
anymore. James digs with a knife -- FURIOUSLY moving earth --
|
|
until he reaches a third artillery shell, which he pulls out
|
|
of the ground.
|
|
|
|
--CU knife blade inside the shell --
|
|
|
|
--CU James' helmet - glass clouding over from condensation --
|
|
losing visibility.
|
|
|
|
--ECU blasting cap --
|
|
|
|
--ECU knife tip separates the wire...
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE MOMENTS LATER
|
|
|
|
James strides uprange. Eldridge isn't sure what to make of
|
|
James. Sanborn is, but not ready to show it.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(gulping air as the helmet
|
|
IS REMOVED)
|
|
Did you see that guy?
|
|
(smiles, recovers his
|
|
MACHO)
|
|
Man, I need a beer.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn begins the bomb suit removal ritual - unstrapping
|
|
Velcro.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
We can arrange that.
|
|
|
|
He yanks at the strap - a little roughly.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
What do you like?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Colt.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Nice southern brand.
|
|
|
|
Yanks at another strap.
|
|
31
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James looks down, the tone of Sanborn's voice and the force
|
|
of the strap gets his attention.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge picks up the pieces of the suit and places them into
|
|
the Humvee. Listening to this exchange.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
I'd take a beer.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(SMILING)
|
|
Hey, that wasn't too bad, for our
|
|
first time working together.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I think working together is I talk
|
|
to you. And you talk to me.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Are we going on a date, J.T.?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn stands, removing the last piece of the suit.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No, we're going on a mission. And
|
|
it's my job to keep you safe, so we
|
|
can keep going on missions.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hey, this is combat.
|
|
|
|
With that James walks to the Humvee and gets inside.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn closes the trunk, hard, startling Eldridge. Eldridge
|
|
comes close, speaking out of James' earshot.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
It's just thirty nine days.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Thirty eight. Assuming we survive
|
|
today.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
James is in the passenger seat, waiting impatiently. Sanborn
|
|
and Eldridge get in.
|
|
32
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I don't mean to mix it up. But the
|
|
situation dictated it.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(COOLLY)
|
|
Roger that.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I'm serious. We're gonna work
|
|
together. You'll get used to my ops
|
|
tempo.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Your ops tempo?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I don't always stop to chat, and I
|
|
like to go fast. You know, so the
|
|
insurgents don't have time to plan.
|
|
I don't want them make any cell
|
|
phone calls.
|
|
|
|
Off Sanborn's face.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. CAMP VICTORY MESS TENT DAY
|
|
|
|
Eldridge and Sanborn chowing down - two guys among a sea of
|
|
SOLDIERS. Behind them in the mess tent hang the signs of
|
|
various fast-food restaurants that cater to the troops: PIZZA
|
|
HUT, SUBWAY, BURGER KING.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Ketchup?
|
|
|
|
Eldridge passes his ketchup over to Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
This is not Pizza Hut.
|
|
(removing a slice of
|
|
PEPPERONI)
|
|
And this is not pepperoni. It's
|
|
round and meaty, but it ain't
|
|
pepperoni.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Goat meat, probably.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Goat meat pepperoni? I'd be glad if
|
|
this was goat meat pepperoni.
|
|
(MORE)
|
|
33
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE (CONT'D)
|
|
I'd eat a truckload of goat meat
|
|
pepperoni. No, this is something
|
|
else. (slapping the fake pepperoni
|
|
on the table) This is unholy.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Pray for something better -- and
|
|
while you're at it, pray for a new
|
|
team leader.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
You sure you want to be the guy in
|
|
the bomb suit?
|
|
|
|
They see James at a food station.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Be better than him.
|
|
|
|
James approaches the table.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Hey, James.
|
|
|
|
James sits down to an awkward silence. Eldridge stops eating.
|
|
Considers him.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(TO JAMES)
|
|
That was some crazy shit you pulled
|
|
out there.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah?
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Hell yeah. You're either really
|
|
lucky or really good. Right up on
|
|
the car like that. Gun to the head.
|
|
Crazy. You know it might backfire
|
|
on you someday. You know that. You
|
|
might actually die. And then what?
|
|
|
|
James is puzzled.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I don't know, what?
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
You don't meet your maker. You just
|
|
get vaporized into little bits of
|
|
DNA.
|
|
34
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sanborn watches Eldridge closely. Is he referring to
|
|
Thompson?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(trying to be helpful)
|
|
He asks everyone what they think
|
|
about death. Ever since Thompson
|
|
was KIA.
|
|
|
|
James nods, turns to Eldridge:
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I don't think about it. Waste of
|
|
time.
|
|
|
|
James goes back to eating. Eldridge keeps looking at him,
|
|
then lets it go.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP VICTORY MESS TENT DAY
|
|
|
|
Midday in Iraq. The heat is oppressive, biblical.
|
|
|
|
James, Sanborn and Eldridge emerge into the blazing sun and
|
|
the tumult of the base. Trucks barrel by. And troops --
|
|
everywhere, troops.
|
|
|
|
James stops in front of young Iraqi KID selling pirated DVDs,
|
|
while Sanborn and Eldridge continue on to the head shed. The
|
|
kid, whose name is PELE, has DVDs fanned on a table.
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
One for five, two for nine.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HAVING FUN)
|
|
Three for twelve?
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
Three for thirteen. And for you, no
|
|
tax.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(laughing, fishes out a five) Keep
|
|
the change.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT HEAD SHED PORCH
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is smoking a cigarette and watching James buy DVDs,
|
|
weighing him, when the team's FIRST SERGEANT, stocky with a
|
|
paternal way about him, holds out a white envelope to
|
|
Sanborn.
|
|
35
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
FIRST SERGEANT
|
|
The tags finally came. Figured
|
|
you'd want to be the one to take
|
|
them over.(handing Sanborn the
|
|
ENVELOPE)
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Thanks, I will handle it.
|
|
|
|
The Sergeant nods. Sanborn stuffs the envelope in his back
|
|
pocket. And the Sergeant heads inside, walking past --
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HEAD SHED SIDE OFFICE
|
|
|
|
A small office space with the door opened a crack. Behind the
|
|
door, Eldridge is sitting on a swivel chair, looking at a
|
|
computer screen, playing a computer game. Next to him in
|
|
another swivel chair is LT. COL. JOHN CAMBRIDGE, a MILITARY
|
|
PSYCHIATRIST, who is looking at Eldridge and the screen.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(singing the jingle)
|
|
"Be all that you can be," right?
|
|
But what if all I can be is dead on
|
|
the side of an Iraqi road?
|
|
|
|
LT. COL CAMBRIDGE
|
|
I'd like to see you move past this
|
|
feeling that you're going to die,
|
|
Owen.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(looking at the screen)
|
|
Why? I think it's logical. This is
|
|
a war, right Doc? People die all
|
|
the time. Why not me?
|
|
|
|
LT. COL CAMBRIDGE
|
|
That's true. But what concerns me
|
|
is how much you think about it. You
|
|
have to change the record in your
|
|
head, think about other things.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
What do you think about?
|
|
|
|
LT. COL CAMBRIDGE
|
|
I don't dwell on death.(looking at
|
|
his watch) I don't obsess. You
|
|
understand what I'm getting at?
|
|
|
|
Eldridge looks up at last.
|
|
36
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY JAMES' TRAILER NIGHT
|
|
|
|
James stands before the open door of his trailer with the
|
|
satellite phone in hand. Overhead a canopy of stars blinks.
|
|
|
|
Through the earpiece of the phone the faint but unmistakable
|
|
BEEP of an answering machine.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO PHONE)
|
|
Hey, guess you're out...wherever
|
|
you are you're probably wearing
|
|
those tight jeans, damn those look
|
|
good... Anyway, Baghdad's alright,
|
|
guys are a little uptight down
|
|
here, but then they just lost a
|
|
brother so I understand...
|
|
uh...(looking up at the
|
|
stars)...really beautiful night,
|
|
wish you could see these
|
|
stars...miss you...bye...
|
|
|
|
He disconnects. Sits in the darkness. Distant WASH of
|
|
engine noise.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT CAMP VICTORY SHOWER STALLS NEXT MORNING
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is shaving in a mirror, otherwise dressed for combat
|
|
and ready to go, when James shuffles in wearing a T-shirt and
|
|
boxer shorts, looking like he just woke up.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn can't believe James is this relaxed.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Hey.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hey.
|
|
|
|
James starts to brush his teeth.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I gotta talk to you about something
|
|
before we roll out.
|
|
|
|
James keeps brushing.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Shoot.
|
|
37
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Yesterday -- that was not cool.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I know. We'll get it.
|
|
|
|
More tooth brushing. Face cleaning.
|
|
|
|
James notices a tatoo on Sanborn's forearm.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I was in Military Intel for seven
|
|
years. Before EOD. We ran combat
|
|
missions in every shit hole on the
|
|
PLANET
|
|
(beat, smile on his face)
|
|
So I'm pretty sure I can figure out
|
|
a dumb trailer park redneck like
|
|
you.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(spitting out water,
|
|
SMILES BACK)
|
|
Looks like you're on the right
|
|
track.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HUMVEE SOMEWHERE IN BAGHDAD MORNING
|
|
|
|
Sanborn drives. James in the passenger seat. Eldridge is in
|
|
the gunner's turret. They ride in silence, each man alone
|
|
with his thoughts.
|
|
|
|
|
|
TITLE OVER:
|
|
|
|
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY'S ROTATION: 37
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT ROAD BEHIND BRITISH EMBASSY DAY
|
|
|
|
A faded blue Opal sits by a high wall laced with concertina
|
|
wire. It's at the end of a narrow cul de sac which backs onto
|
|
the embassy.
|
|
|
|
The narrow cul de sac dog-legs into another street. At the
|
|
entrance to the cul de sac, there is a phalanx of SOLDIERS
|
|
and our EOD techs.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and Eldridge are unloading the robot from the Humvee.
|
|
|
|
Other soldiers are evacuating OFFICE WORKERS from the
|
|
embassy.
|
|
38
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James seems frustrated with the situation - frowning into the
|
|
face of the SERGEANT in charge.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
An office worker called it in. The
|
|
car doesn't belong to anyone who
|
|
works at the building. It's been
|
|
parked there for an hour. No
|
|
license plate and the suspension is
|
|
sagging, so there's something heavy
|
|
in the trunk -- three or four
|
|
hundred pounds. Could be a bomb.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Did you evacuate?
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
We're trying. But the English
|
|
Ambassador said we're supposed to
|
|
guarantee his safety.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn approaches, lap top in hand.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Bot is ready.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT ROAD BEHIND EMBASSY
|
|
|
|
A WOMAN in a Bhurka on a motorcycle rides past the Soldiers
|
|
and towards the Opal --
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER 1
|
|
(raising his rifle)
|
|
Shit -- What do you want me to do?
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER 2
|
|
Shoot her.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER 1
|
|
We can't shoot her for riding a
|
|
bike...
|
|
|
|
-- CU the motorcyclist's hands, holding a MOLOTOV COCKTAIL.
|
|
It's hidden from view of the soldiers.
|
|
|
|
-- She rolls the cocktail under the car and darts down an
|
|
ALLEY
|
|
|
|
The car BURSTS into flames, and the scene breaks into --
|
|
|
|
PANDEMONIUM --
|
|
39
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
-- Eldridge frantically straps James into the suit, as the
|
|
car burns.
|
|
|
|
-- James takes off his sunglasses, cleans them, calmly.
|
|
|
|
-- Sanborn runs to the truck and returns with a fire
|
|
extinguisher, which he hands to James.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Eldridge - I want you in that
|
|
window - keep the alley clear.
|
|
Sanborn, cover it from the street.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn looks at the alley: not a happy place. Eldridge takes
|
|
off towards the Embassy entrance.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. AMBASSADOR'S OFFICE
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR SIR AUCKLAND GEDDES, the epitome of the old style
|
|
of British foreign service: elegant, self assured, a
|
|
gentleman adventurer in Seville Row, hoping to improve the
|
|
world, certain he'll profit in the attempt.
|
|
|
|
He's holding court with a group of EXECUTIVES. The executives
|
|
are seated around a conference table under the Ambassador's
|
|
sway. There's a model of a British Petroleum gas
|
|
station/convenience store, in English and Arabic, in the
|
|
center of the table.
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
...So in sixteen months time I
|
|
believe five million gallons per
|
|
day is in fact rather conservative.
|
|
|
|
SOUNDS out the window. An Executive turns his head nervously.
|
|
|
|
EXECUTIVE
|
|
But security is still the big
|
|
variable?
|
|
|
|
The Ambassador brushes his hand in dismissal.
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
Only on the margins.
|
|
(SMILING)
|
|
Everyday, the risks diminish and
|
|
the rewards multiply--
|
|
|
|
Eldridge enters.
|
|
40
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
Ah, and here is EOD. You see
|
|
gentlemen, everything is fine. The
|
|
site is secure. The bomb -- if
|
|
there even is one -- will easily be
|
|
dispensed by the crack American
|
|
team.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Excuse me.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge rushes over to the window to see the street.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster Mike, I'm at the window.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
He's stationed himself near the mouth of the alley. Wisps of
|
|
smoke and flames in the air.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Copy that. How's the fire look from
|
|
up there.
|
|
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR'S OFFICE
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Flames a meter high, over.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Close to the burning car. SMOKE rising from the hood and the
|
|
under carriage awash in FLAMES, like a sleeping dragon.
|
|
|
|
James sprays the fire-extinguisher and the fire subsides. He
|
|
inspects the interior - looks normal enough - and tries to
|
|
open the trunk with a pair of pliers, but the handle doesn't
|
|
give and snaps off under his effort. He kicks the trunk but
|
|
it remains shut. He turns and lumbers up range, jaw set.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
Watching James walk back uprange.
|
|
41
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster One, what is going on?
|
|
|
|
JAMES O.S.
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Stay put, I'll be right back.
|
|
|
|
Standing alone in the kill zone at the mouth of the alley.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
What's happening?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Good question. But I'm not liking
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
James is buried inside the Humvee, searching. He tosses what
|
|
he doesn't need, and a succession of items comes flying out --
|
|
food, clothing, a tarp. Now James walks back towards the Blue
|
|
Opal without saying a word. In his hand is a crowbar.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BLUE OPAL
|
|
|
|
James winds up and swings hard at the door. Wham! Nope. Wham!
|
|
Wham! Wham!
|
|
|
|
He drops the crowbar and tries the trunk. Presto, it opens,
|
|
revealing: a trunk overflowing with EXPLOSIVES -- ten times
|
|
what we've seen before. James is taken aback.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
We're all in the kill zone on this
|
|
one.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
Sanborn stares at James and the car. Great.
|
|
42
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Now inside the car, slipping on the slimy seats, he cuts the
|
|
seat cushions with his knife, and rips out the foam
|
|
upholstery, and finds more bad news buried underneath: SIX
|
|
ARTILLERY SHELLS and a WIRE that leads to the floorboard and
|
|
goes under the carpeting.
|
|
|
|
James DIVES to the wire and cuts it, then rips open the
|
|
carpet to reveal more wire -- and follows the wire through
|
|
the car, ripping apart the car PIECE by PIECE, cutting wire
|
|
as he goes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR'S OFFICE
|
|
|
|
An executive gets up to look out the window.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(TO EXECUTIVE)
|
|
Sir, I'm going to need you to stay
|
|
away from the window.
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
Yes, please, sit down. It's safe.
|
|
|
|
EXECUTIVE
|
|
Why is he here, if it's safe?
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
He is just an observer.
|
|
|
|
EXECUTIVE
|
|
(TO ELDRIDGE)
|
|
Is that true, we're safe here?
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(DISTRACTED)
|
|
In my opinion, no.
|
|
|
|
Executives take this as a cue to leave. Getting up, shuffling
|
|
out of the room. The Ambassador is furious at Eldridge,
|
|
advancing on him.
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
This is idiotic. Why not tow the
|
|
vehicle away from the building?
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
I believe the lane is too narrow
|
|
for a Humvee, Sir.
|
|
43
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
Donkeys. Use donkeys.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
I don't believe we have any of
|
|
those on hand, Sir.
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
Jesus, Lord. You Americans really
|
|
are incompetent. No donkeys on
|
|
hand? What do you think I'm
|
|
talking about, a full squadron of
|
|
farm animals?
|
|
|
|
Eldridge trying to stay on task.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
SIR--
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
(cutting him off)
|
|
Go downstairs, grab a farmer or one
|
|
of those street vendors and procure
|
|
- meaning purchase, buy - several
|
|
donkeys. Then tow this car bomb
|
|
away from my office.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(STEELING HIMSELF)
|
|
Sir, I'm going to need you to step
|
|
away from the window.
|
|
|
|
Geddes looks out the window at the burning car.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
His walkie barks to life.
|
|
|
|
JAMES O.S.
|
|
(over Sanborn's walkie)
|
|
Lot of pink Det cord here.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO TALKIE)
|
|
Where's the switch?
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Not in the back seat.
|
|
44
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James is now in the front seat, tearing up the upholstery.
|
|
|
|
JAMES CONT'D
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Not in the front seat. Doors. Dash.
|
|
|
|
A WISP of smoke curls out of the heating vents. James doesn't
|
|
notice.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN O.S.
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
If you haven't found it yet, it's
|
|
probably under the car.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
None of the cord goes under. It's
|
|
up here -- somewhere.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN O.S.
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
Try the weather-stripping.
|
|
|
|
James rips off a chunk of weather stripping. Just bare metal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
It's been thirty seconds. You need
|
|
to bail.
|
|
|
|
JAMES O.S.
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
I can find it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
He crawls to the back seat, slipping on the foam and slime.
|
|
More smoke escapes from the vents.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN O.S.
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
James, seriously, you need to bail.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Roger that. Be right out.
|
|
|
|
James retraces what's left of the wire, yet again, ignoring
|
|
Sanborn. He sits back in the seat, strangely relaxed.
|
|
45
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. ALLEY
|
|
|
|
A shadow comes into Sanborn's sight. It's an IRAQI on a
|
|
bicycle, riding straight towards him.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE O.S.
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
Incoming.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn raises his rifle. The man peddles on, waving his
|
|
hand.
|
|
|
|
BICYCLIST
|
|
(IN ARABIC)
|
|
Where is the entrance to this
|
|
building?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Imshee! Imshee!
|
|
|
|
The bicyclist looks at the car.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
|
|
Trains his scope on the head of the bicyclist.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
I'm going to burn him on three.
|
|
One.
|
|
|
|
Geddes just looks at the big man at the window.
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
Oh, that's rich. Give him a count.
|
|
|
|
Through Eldridge's scope the bicyclist grows. He flicks off
|
|
his safety.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster Mike, do you copy?
|
|
(TO HIMSELF) )
|
|
Please don't make me kill you.
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
Been in combat very long?
|
|
46
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(into walkie to Eldridge)
|
|
Copy that.
|
|
(TO JAMES)
|
|
James, you need to get out. There's
|
|
another potential bomber here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BACK TO JAMES
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO SANBORN)
|
|
So shoot him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BACK TO SANBORN
|
|
|
|
BICYCLIST
|
|
(IN ARABIC)
|
|
I need to make a delivery down
|
|
there. Please let me through.
|
|
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR'S OFFICE
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE O.S.
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Two!!
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Negative, Negative. Hold your fire.
|
|
(shouting at bicyclist)
|
|
Get the fuck out of here!
|
|
|
|
The bicyclist does an about face, but not before casting a
|
|
last suspicious glance back at the car bomb.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn refocuses on the Opal; he's losing his cool.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster One, do you copy, over?
|
|
47
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Still sitting in the back seat. Now he sees the smoking vent.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Gimmie a minute.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
|
|
Eyes never leaving the street below, flicks the safety of his
|
|
rifle back on.
|
|
|
|
Geddes notices the sweat on Eldridge's face, and feels a
|
|
sudden surge of sympathy for the younger man.
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
Well done. That took great self
|
|
control.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Thank you, sir. Again, I apologize
|
|
for the intrusion into --
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
Yes, but I doubt the insurgents
|
|
will appreciate your restraint.
|
|
(in a kindly, paternal tone)
|
|
If I may give you a piece of free
|
|
advice, next time, pull the
|
|
trigger.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Well, actually, the uh--rules --
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
That's the only way out, I'm
|
|
afraid. When you're in a losing
|
|
battle, you have to draw blood. No
|
|
insurgency in modern history has
|
|
ever been truly defeated, so all
|
|
you can do is manage your exit.
|
|
Clear a wide swath of bodies so you
|
|
have room to withdraw.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly the office door opens and a YOUNG AIDE appears.
|
|
|
|
AIDE
|
|
The building is empty, Sir, except
|
|
for you.
|
|
48
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Geddes nods, grabs his coat and moves to Eldridge for one
|
|
last jab.
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
I'm sorry to say it, but that's
|
|
just how it's done. You need to
|
|
show some vigor. In Kenya, we
|
|
executed the insurgents in their
|
|
beds, until they gave us room.
|
|
Falklands, the same. That's just
|
|
how it's done.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge looks up, he's had enough. Swings around.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Is that how you did it in Northern
|
|
Ireland? With murder?
|
|
|
|
AMBASSADOR GEDDES
|
|
(SMILING)
|
|
There you are. Now you're showing
|
|
some vigor.
|
|
|
|
And leaves.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
J.T, the building is clear now. We
|
|
can pull out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Roger that. (to James) Will, we can
|
|
pull out. The building is
|
|
evacuated.
|
|
(NO ANSWER)
|
|
James?
|
|
|
|
Still no answer.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster One, we are cleared to
|
|
leave this fucking site. Walk away.
|
|
Do you copy, over?
|
|
49
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Stay where you are, Sanborn. I'm
|
|
not done.
|
|
|
|
And with that, James turns off his walkie. CLICK.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
J.T., are we moving?
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Negative. Negative.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE O.S.
|
|
(OVER TALKIE)
|
|
I didn't copy that. Did you say
|
|
negative?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Roger. We are staying until James
|
|
is finished.
|
|
(NERVOUSLY)
|
|
James, what's the situation?
|
|
(NO ANSWER)
|
|
Goddamn, Will, I need a report.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
James' POV. He sees in the corner of the back seat, having
|
|
just wiped away a puddle of fire retardant, a little black
|
|
box, with a wire leading out of it. He grabs the box.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Got it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BLUE OPAL
|
|
|
|
The black box goes flying out of the car.
|
|
50
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT MOUTH OF CUL DE SAC
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is furious, stalking ahead of James as they return
|
|
uprange.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn passes Eldridge, who has come down from the
|
|
ambassador's office.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Take the suit.
|
|
|
|
|
|
HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
James' face looks flushed, red, sweat dripping. Eldridge
|
|
begins ripping apart the Velcro from James' legs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
MOMENTS LATER
|
|
|
|
James sits in the car, smoking.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn leans into the window.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Hey, James.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn JABS him in the jaw, knocking the cigarette out.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Don't you turn off your walkie
|
|
again.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn stalks off and James explodes out of the car.
|
|
|
|
He crouches down -- searching the floor of the Humvee. Sees
|
|
his cigarette, damaged and dirty on the mucky floor, but
|
|
still burning. He extracts it and carefully cleans it off,
|
|
then jumps on the hood of the Humvee and goes back to his
|
|
smoke. He's calm as can be. The Marlboro man.
|
|
|
|
As he puffs away, watching Sanborn converse with a group of
|
|
SOLDIERS, a JEEP drives up.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED jumps out wearing a uniform covered in army
|
|
bling - medals he won a long time ago, before he traveled up
|
|
the food chain. An AIDE trots along beside him.
|
|
51
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
Hi boys.
|
|
|
|
James turns around.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(UNCHARACTERISTICALLY
|
|
AWED)
|
|
Hello, sir.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
(points to James)
|
|
That you in the bomb suit?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yes, sir, it was.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
(reading his name tag)
|
|
You were the guy in the flaming
|
|
car, Sergeant James?
|
|
|
|
James is concerned.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yes, sir.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
Well hot damn, that was some hot
|
|
shit. You're a wild man, you know
|
|
that?
|
|
|
|
The Colonel spins his head around to Eldridge.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
He's a wild man, you know that?
|
|
(back to James)
|
|
Let me shake your hand.
|
|
|
|
Extending his meaty paw.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Thank you, sir.
|
|
|
|
Slapping him on the back.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
How many bombs have you disarmed,
|
|
Sergeant?
|
|
|
|
James seems slightly self-conscious. Eldridge listens in.
|
|
52
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hell, I'm not sure. A lot.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
Sergeant, I asked you a question.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
One seven three. Counting today,
|
|
Sir.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
Holy shit. One hundred and seventy
|
|
fucking three bombs. God damn. That
|
|
must be a record. So tell me,
|
|
what's the best way to go about
|
|
disarming one of these things?
|
|
|
|
James doesn't answer as he looks at the black box. Finally:
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
The way you don't die.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
(LAUGHING)
|
|
Good one, spoken like a wild man.
|
|
(LOOKING AROUND)
|
|
I'd like a picture with this man -
|
|
anybody here have a camera?
|
|
|
|
A nearby soldier holds a digital camera up to his eye.
|
|
Colonel Reed smiles big, arm draped around James's shoulders.
|
|
SNAP.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Thanks, sir, thank you very much.
|
|
Sir, couldn't do it without my team
|
|
(looking around for Sanborn) Hey,
|
|
Sanborn! Get over here!
|
|
|
|
Sanborn trots over, glowering.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(to Col. Reed)
|
|
This here is Sergeant Sanborn, the
|
|
key to the whole team.
|
|
(rubbing it in)
|
|
And Specialist Eldridge.
|
|
|
|
Colonel Reed extends his hand. Sanborn is shocked.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
You guys should all get Bronze
|
|
stars and I'm gonna recommend it.
|
|
53
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES ELDRIDGE
|
|
Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Thanks, Sir.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
Good luck, boys. Keep on keeping
|
|
on.
|
|
|
|
|
|
FEW FEET AWAY
|
|
|
|
Out of earshot Colonel Reed addresses his aide.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
You wouldn't catch me walking down
|
|
on no fuckin' bomb. Hell no,
|
|
you're not gonna get me in that
|
|
monkey suit.
|
|
|
|
|
|
HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
James sits in the front with his IPOD earphones on. Lost to
|
|
the world.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge starts to climb into the turret. Before he does he
|
|
speaks softly to Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Bronze star?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I don't care, (not caring that
|
|
James may overhear) the guy is not
|
|
safe. You can have mine and I'll
|
|
pin it on your coffin.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
So you do think I'm going to die.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Fuck, Owen. I don't know. Probably
|
|
not.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
54
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY WEAPONS DISCHARGE STATION AFTERNOON
|
|
|
|
James, Sanborn and Eldridge are discharging their weapons,
|
|
dry firing them into steel drums. Clicking of ammunition.
|
|
Long shadows.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY FIRST SERGEANT'S TRAILER AFTERNOON
|
|
|
|
James steps out, grabs a smoke, as a soccer ball rolls beside
|
|
him. It's Pele's. Inviting James to play.
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
(SHOUTING)
|
|
Ball! Ball!
|
|
|
|
James picks it up, and carries it over to a pile of sandbags
|
|
and sits down. Pele runs up.
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
Give it.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Give me my five bucks and I'll give
|
|
you your ball.
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
Five dollars - for what?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Those DVDs were crap. They were so
|
|
fuzzy I couldn't see a thing.
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
No, impossible.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I'm telling you, they were fuzzy.
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
That's Hollywood, my man. Special
|
|
effects.
|
|
|
|
The boy's chutzpa amuses James. He's starting to like this
|
|
kid.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
What's your name anyway?
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
Pele.
|
|
55
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Oh yeah - like the soccer player?
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
Yes, the great Pele
|
|
|
|
James gets up. Motions for the kid to give him space.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Ready? One, two --
|
|
|
|
He smashes the ball in Pele's direction -- it flies up. Pele
|
|
blocks it easily, kicking high in the air.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
-- three. Shit.
|
|
|
|
Pele comes back over to James, who has sat back down. He
|
|
notices the bomb patch on James' uniform.
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
(pointing to the patch)
|
|
So you are EOD -- boomala boomala.
|
|
It's fun, no?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I like to disarm them. Tell you
|
|
what, kid, I'll buy another DVD
|
|
from you but if this one is fuzzy
|
|
you better watch out. Cause I'm
|
|
coming for you.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT CAMP VICTORY MESS TENT DAY
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and Eldridge eat together. In the corner of the room,
|
|
James is eating alone in a sea of soldiers.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT CAMP VICTORY HEAD SHED
|
|
|
|
Eldridge and the psychiatrist are back in session.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(LEANING FORWARD)
|
|
What if I should be pulling the
|
|
trigger more often? Killing people?
|
|
Bomb makers.
|
|
|
|
LT. COL. CAMBBRIDGE
|
|
That's not your mission. Your
|
|
mission is to protect life. Render
|
|
safe.
|
|
56
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
But what if I need to change the
|
|
mission - to survive? That
|
|
bicyclist I told you about? I'm
|
|
ninety percent sure he was an
|
|
insurgent. I could have shot him.
|
|
Not my mission. But it would have
|
|
been legal.
|
|
|
|
LT. COL. CAMBBRIDGE
|
|
You don't have to turn into an
|
|
animal just to protect yourself.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
You don't?
|
|
|
|
LT. COL. CAMBBRIDGE
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
And you know this from your
|
|
extensive work in the field.
|
|
|
|
LT. COL. CAMBBRIDGE
|
|
I've done my field duty.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Where was that? Yale?
|
|
|
|
LT. COL CAMBRIDGE
|
|
Look, Specialist, if you want to
|
|
stop talking to me, you can. These
|
|
sessions are voluntary. You chose
|
|
to be here, talking to me, just
|
|
like you chose the Army, just like
|
|
you chose EOD. You're in an elite
|
|
volunteer unit. Not many guys have
|
|
the IQ or the nerves to do it. Be
|
|
proud of it.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge considers this. The psychiatrist taps his pencil.
|
|
Waiting.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Keep the soldier in the fight and
|
|
the fight in the soldier, right
|
|
Doc?
|
|
|
|
Eldridge puts out his hand, and they shake.
|
|
57
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Seriously, I appreciate what you're
|
|
saying. But you need to get out
|
|
from behind this desk more.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT CAMP VICTORY LAUNDRY ROOM NIGHT
|
|
|
|
James is watching his clothes dry as they tumble around the
|
|
machine.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn comes in with a pile of laundry. Sees James.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Hey.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hey.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn stuffs his laundry into a machine. James is still
|
|
watching the drier, starts to speak.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(QUIETLY)
|
|
If you ever get in my shoes and put
|
|
on the bomb suit you'll see your
|
|
whole mind changes when you're in
|
|
front of a bomb. You lose 20 IQ
|
|
points just from the weight of the
|
|
suit. Your brain gets so much
|
|
adrenaline that you hallucinate.
|
|
Turn off the walkie?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn stares straight ahead.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You'll be lucky if all you do is
|
|
turn off the walkie.
|
|
|
|
Off the spinning dryer, we --
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD SOMEWHERE IN THE CITY MID AFTERNOON
|
|
|
|
Heat playing tricks with light on the ribbon of road -
|
|
imaginary water pooling on the surface.
|
|
|
|
Again, the auditory landscape of Baghdad: distant CALL to
|
|
prayer and the incessant RAT-TAT-TAT of gunfire.
|
|
58
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
TITLE OVER:
|
|
|
|
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY'S ROTATION: 23
|
|
|
|
James is walking uprange with a large artillery shell. It
|
|
looks very heavy and he's sweating profusely.
|
|
|
|
He brings the bomb to the Humvee where Sanborn and Eldridge
|
|
are waiting. They're also suffering in the heat. They take
|
|
the shell from him, and stow it in the truck.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
How are we on water? I'm dying.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
J.T.'s got some.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO SANBORN)
|
|
Water?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No. I'm all out.
|
|
|
|
James just looks at him.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD PURGATORY DAY
|
|
|
|
We're at the south end of an EXPLOSIVES DISPOSAL RANGE,
|
|
nicknamed, `Purgatory' -- an empty expanse of dirt pockmarked
|
|
with craters and bordered on one side by a small number of
|
|
dwellings.
|
|
|
|
BOOM!!! A huge bomb explodes, sending dust and debris into
|
|
the air in a mini mushroom cloud...We move across the field
|
|
with the cloud, and settle where our EOD team is positioned
|
|
by their Humvee.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn has a remote detonator in his hand and is about to
|
|
blow it.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Fire in the hole. Fire in the hole
|
|
|
|
James interrupts --
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hold on a second. I think I forgot
|
|
my gloves back there.
|
|
59
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James jumps into the Humvee and drives down range, reversing
|
|
the course we just took. It's a long way to the explosives,
|
|
at least half a mile, and Sanborn and Eldridge watch him
|
|
recede in the distance.
|
|
|
|
James is a tiny figure, ambling around the explosives pile.
|
|
There's nobody else around.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn looks down at the detonator in his hand. Eldridge
|
|
notices the look.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Those detonators break all the
|
|
time. Accidental misfire.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
With that shot laid out like that,
|
|
it could be a UXO that just cooks
|
|
off.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Boom.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Boom.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
A shot that size would obliterate
|
|
everything in its path.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
His helmet, you'd have that.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Oh yeah, there'd be half a helmet
|
|
somewhere.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
And little bits of hair stuck to
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Little bits of hair.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
We'd have to recommend a major
|
|
change in techniques and protocols
|
|
so that kind of accident never
|
|
happens again. You'd write the
|
|
first draft of the report.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Are you serious?
|
|
60
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I'm not going to write it.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
No, are you serious about killing
|
|
him?
|
|
|
|
-- Sanborn looks up at Eldridge. Smiles.
|
|
|
|
James starts driving back uprange.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT FIELD OUTSKIRTS OF BAGHDAD LATE AFTERNOON
|
|
|
|
Another dusty nowhere. The EOD team is stopped in the middle
|
|
of a road that cuts through a swath of desert.
|
|
|
|
At the roadside are several SOLDIERS and their vehicles. The
|
|
soldiers look sunburned, tired.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and Eldridge are near the soldiers, looking down the
|
|
road where --
|
|
|
|
|
|
TITLE OVER:
|
|
|
|
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY'S ROTATION: 17
|
|
|
|
|
|
CRATER
|
|
|
|
James is inside a CRATER in the middle of the road, working
|
|
on an EIGHT-FOOT MISSILE. He attaches A ROCKET WRENCH, a
|
|
metal band with two explosive tubes, to the nose of the
|
|
missile -- and flips a switch.
|
|
|
|
The two tubes ignite like a firecracker, shooting small
|
|
flames. Then the flames grow and band spins and FLIES off,
|
|
ZIPPING into the air above James' head like a metal frisbee,
|
|
landing fifty feet away.
|
|
|
|
James peers into the nose cone. A hollow void.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
James? Do you copy? James?
|
|
|
|
He climbs to the top of the crater.
|
|
61
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO HEADSET)
|
|
It's empty.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT/INT CRATER MOMENTS LATER
|
|
|
|
The soldiers are gathered around the pit to see EOD work.
|
|
It's not everyday you get to see an eight foot missile towed
|
|
out of a hole.
|
|
|
|
James is down in the pit. Sanborn hands him a chain. Working
|
|
together, they wrap it around the missile. When they're done,
|
|
Sanborn signals Eldridge, who is behind the wheel of the
|
|
Humvee, ready to tow the missile out of the crater.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(TO ELDRIDGE)
|
|
Rock it out, slowly.
|
|
|
|
The chain creaks, then stops. The tires spin uselessly.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN (CONT'D)
|
|
Try gunning it.
|
|
|
|
The tires only spin faster.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn moves to get a closer look. His knees come very near
|
|
to the creaking chain.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(seeing this from the pit)
|
|
Sanborn, watch that chain.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
It's alright.
|
|
|
|
When...
|
|
|
|
KA-BOOOOM -- the sky flashes orange overhead --James flat on
|
|
his back, dazed. A shard of metal ZOOMS into the pit, missing
|
|
him by inches -- as the soldiers dive into the pit for cover,
|
|
shouting "RPG, RPG!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
Eldridge, who is in the driver's seat, starts shooting his M4
|
|
rifle.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(SHOUTING)
|
|
What am I shooting at?
|
|
62
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sanborn jumping into the Humvee.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(SHOUTING BACK)
|
|
I don't fucking know! -- but James
|
|
is down!!!
|
|
|
|
He fires in the same direction as Eldridge. The Humvee gets
|
|
peppered with bullets. The armor holds. But it doesn't look
|
|
like it's going to last for much longer.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn grabs Eldridge. And they dive back into the pit,
|
|
joining James and THREE SOLDIERS: a SERGEANT one PRIVATE and
|
|
a CORPORAL who is a SNIPER.
|
|
|
|
James is sitting up, taking off his bomb suit. He appears to
|
|
be unharmed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ROAD
|
|
|
|
One of the soldiers is in the turret of a Humvee, firing the
|
|
big .50 machine gun in all directions.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CRATER
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
(TO SNIPER)
|
|
Get up there with your Barret and
|
|
help him out.
|
|
|
|
[Note: Barret is the large .50 SNIPER RIFLE carried by one of
|
|
the soldiers, a specialty gun with an extremely long range.]
|
|
|
|
The SNIPER hoists the heavy gun to the edge of the crater and
|
|
looks down the scope.
|
|
|
|
As he does, Sanborn, Eldridge, and James, and the other
|
|
soldiers pop up and lay down covering fire. Then they quickly
|
|
pop back down.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ROAD
|
|
|
|
The soldier in the Humvee is still churning his machine gun,
|
|
shooting in all directions, expending hundreds of bullets a
|
|
minute.
|
|
63
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
CRATER
|
|
|
|
SNIPER
|
|
(TO SERGEANT)
|
|
I don't see nothing out there.
|
|
Chris is shooting wild.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Hey Chris - can you hear me? Chill
|
|
out on the fifty man.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ROAD
|
|
|
|
The soldier in the Humvee fires a few more seconds. Picks up
|
|
his walkie.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Copy that.
|
|
|
|
-- As a bullet hits him in the neck, killing him instantly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CRATER
|
|
|
|
SNIPER
|
|
Holy shit. He killed Chris.
|
|
|
|
Everyone in the pit pops up and fires in every direction, a
|
|
knee-jerk response.
|
|
|
|
A soldier picks up his walkie and keys it. We can't hear him
|
|
talking over the retorts of the soldiers firing rifles.
|
|
|
|
The men are pinned down, paralyzed by fear. Sniper fire from
|
|
one of the buildings rakes the top of the crater.
|
|
|
|
-- Bullets kick up sand on the far side of the crater,
|
|
opposite the men.
|
|
|
|
-- Eldridge looks like he's having a heart attack. This is
|
|
how it ends, he thinks.
|
|
|
|
--James seems preternaturally calm.
|
|
|
|
After a while --
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
We should save our ammo at least
|
|
until we can see these bastards.
|
|
64
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Sergeant takes off his pack, and pulls out a pair of
|
|
binoculars. Inching up to the edge of the crater, where he
|
|
joins the SNIPER
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
(TO SNIPER)
|
|
Do you see anything.
|
|
|
|
SNIPER
|
|
It's got to be coming from those
|
|
buildings. Somebody moved on the
|
|
roof of the tall one there.
|
|
|
|
We see the buildings in the distance. They look too far away
|
|
to be threatening.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
Hit him if you see him again.
|
|
|
|
As suddenly --
|
|
|
|
The SNIPER is hit in the breastbone.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Jesus.
|
|
|
|
In the pit: total meltdown. This is it. The day you die.
|
|
Everyone starts talking at once.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER SANBORN
|
|
Man we got to get out of I'll get on the Barret.
|
|
here.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE SERGEANT
|
|
Don't do that J.T. Shit. Okay. We need help.
|
|
(INTO WALKIE) )
|
|
This is Alpha Nine. We're in
|
|
deep shit. Over.
|
|
|
|
DISPATCH (O.S.) JAMES
|
|
Roger that, Alpha Nine. Go (to Sergeant)
|
|
ahead. Let me see those binocs.
|
|
|
|
The Sergeant hands the binocs to James.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
We are taking incoming fire. I have
|
|
two KIA. The grid --
|
|
|
|
James gives Sanborn a look. He leans in to say something to
|
|
Sanborn, which we can't hear.
|
|
65
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Over the Sergeant's walkie:
|
|
|
|
DISPATCH (O.S.)
|
|
I know where you are Alpha. Go
|
|
ahead.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn crawls into the SNIPER's position, moving the dead
|
|
body out of the way. James follows next to him to observe
|
|
with the binocs
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Copy that. Okay. Can you get us
|
|
some help.
|
|
(to James and Sanborn)
|
|
Don't do that fellas.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is already shooting. The SNIPER RIFLE puts down
|
|
bullets slowly. It has a clip of six rounds. One by one
|
|
Sanborn expends them.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Eldridge, I need ammo.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge pulls two clips of ammunition off the bloody chest
|
|
of the dead sniper.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(looking through the
|
|
BINOCS)
|
|
You're shooting high.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge hands the ammo to Sanborn, who jams the clip in the
|
|
rifle, and then adjusts the sight. He pulls the trigger. The
|
|
gun jams.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO SANBORN)
|
|
Clear it, clear it. (the clip is
|
|
removed, passed to James) Eldridge
|
|
clean the bullets. The blood is
|
|
making them jam.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge is handed the bloody clips. He pops the bullets out,
|
|
one by one, and tries to clean them. But the blood is sticky.
|
|
A bullet slips out of his hand, rolls down the crater. The
|
|
soldier helps him by picking up the bullet and cleaning it.
|
|
|
|
James looks back to see Eldridge's progress.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Spit on `em Eldridge. Spit. Rub.
|
|
Spit rub.
|
|
66
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Eldridge is trying. He's really trying.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Come on, Eldridge. I need ammo.
|
|
|
|
James sees that Eldridge is not getting it and he draws close
|
|
to him.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You're doing good, man. (putting
|
|
his hand on Eldridge's shoulder).
|
|
You're okay.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge nods. His mind is there but his hands are disobeying
|
|
him. James attempts to clear his head.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I will keep you safe, Owen, that's
|
|
my job.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Roger.
|
|
|
|
The soldier hands the ammo to James.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(to both of them)
|
|
Alright. Scan your sectors.
|
|
|
|
Then Eldridge positions himself so he's looking in the
|
|
opposite direction that James and Sanborn are looking.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn fires two more rounds.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(CALMLY)
|
|
Still high, adjust your windage.
|
|
Elevation.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Got it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SNIPER RIFLE POV
|
|
|
|
The roof of the tall building in the distance bobs in and out
|
|
of view. At this great range, the scope dances.
|
|
67
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
CRATER
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
He's on the left by the smoke
|
|
stack. Guy in white.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn fires once. He turns his head away from the gun and
|
|
makes an audible exhale to release tension -- the sniper
|
|
breath control technique.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Good. There's another one just
|
|
behind him. Up a meter.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn fires once. Audible exhale.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Good.
|
|
|
|
James scans the area. Silence.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CRATER AN HOUR LATER
|
|
|
|
The sun lower in the sky. Around the pit, the fallen soldier
|
|
has been pushed to one side, and the living are hanging on to
|
|
their sanity.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge and the remaining soldier have exhausted their water
|
|
supply.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and James are in EXACTLY the same position as when we
|
|
left them. Focused. Sanborn's finger on the trigger. Sanborn
|
|
breathes out, the sniper breathing. He's been doing this for
|
|
an hour, time and the desert heat have taken their toll.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn blinks sweat away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN POV
|
|
|
|
The scope BLURS. He regains focus.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Noticing Sanborn's fatigue.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Eldridge, grab me the juice out of
|
|
an MRE.
|
|
68
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Eldridge digs around the DEAD SOLDIER'S backpack and
|
|
retrieves a packet of juice, which he passes to James.
|
|
|
|
James inserts the straw into the juice pack.
|
|
|
|
He hesitates, not sure if Sanborn will accept the gesture
|
|
after all the hostility that's passed between them. But he
|
|
brings the straw to Sanborn's lips.
|
|
|
|
At first, Sanborn keeps his attention on the rifle scope. But
|
|
then he opens his parched mouth, and sips.
|
|
|
|
--Suddenly, there's movement, a flutter of fabric, in the
|
|
distance off Eldridge's shoulder. He stiffens.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Uh, Will.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
At my one o'clock. Two hundred
|
|
meters. Something moved behind a
|
|
parked car. Either a tan dog or a
|
|
man in a light-colored shirt.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Deal with it.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Uh--Ok.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge looks down his scope, unsure. James keeps his focus
|
|
forward on the building.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
I don't think it's a dog. Should I
|
|
fire?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
It's your call.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge shifts his weight onto his rifle.
|
|
|
|
There's a flutter of movement in the distance.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge pulls the trigger. Spraying the car in the distance.
|
|
Empties his entire magazine.
|
|
|
|
From behind the car, something falls to the ground, and the
|
|
tiniest sliver of a rifle clatters after it.
|
|
69
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The soldier in the pit comes over to Eldridge to see what
|
|
he's done.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
Good hit, man.
|
|
|
|
James and Sanborn don't turn around.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge slumps, spent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CRATER TWO HOURS LATER
|
|
|
|
Sun casting long shadows.
|
|
|
|
James and Sanborn in the same focused position. Eldridge
|
|
still watches the rear.
|
|
|
|
The soldier in the pit reaches his breaking point.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
I'm going to go for the Humvee.
|
|
What do you say?
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
I don't know.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
We've been here two hours and they
|
|
ain't seen nothing. I'm going to go
|
|
for it.
|
|
|
|
And with that he dashes up and out of the crater.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn keeps his eye on the scope.
|
|
|
|
ROAD
|
|
|
|
The soldier runs to the Humvee, gets in, and turns the
|
|
vehicle around, driving it back to the pit.
|
|
|
|
He dives out of the vehicle and back to the pit.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
(EXCITED)
|
|
Those fuckers are dead.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
What if they hit us with an RPG
|
|
when we get out? What if they were
|
|
just waiting for us to get in the
|
|
Humvee.
|
|
70
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
It's safe. I'm telling you
|
|
(TO SANBORN)
|
|
You got those fuckers.
|
|
|
|
The soldier jumps out of the pit. Stands in the middle of the
|
|
road. A sitting duck.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
(to men in the pit)
|
|
See? You got them.
|
|
(turning to building,
|
|
SHOUTING)
|
|
We got you mother fuckers. You're
|
|
fucking dead Hajis. Haha.
|
|
|
|
The soldier pulls down his pants and moons the building.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
Kiss this mother fucker!!!
|
|
|
|
James lowers his binocs. Sanborn lowers his rifle.
|
|
|
|
They exchange a mirthful look.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT CAMP VICTORY JAMES' TRAILER NIGHT
|
|
|
|
James and Sanborn face each other; both men are red-faced,
|
|
drunk, swaying.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Ready?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn nods. Wham! Sanborn reels back from the punch. James
|
|
is standing over him. Glowering. He looks good. The rage is
|
|
like a vitamin.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Now we're even.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn stumbles back, recovers. Around them in James' room
|
|
are the remains of an Irish wake: two bottles of Scotch,
|
|
already empty. A third half gone. Cigarettes burned down in
|
|
an ashtray.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Be right back. I gotta piss.
|
|
|
|
As Sanborn stumbles out, James turns to Eldridge
|
|
71
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
One more, boy.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(imitating a young
|
|
RECRUIT)
|
|
Yes, Sir, Sergeant James Sir.
|
|
You're not very good drunk are you
|
|
SIR!! You're a good fighter, Sir.
|
|
Natural born warrior, Sir.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(SEMI-SERIOUSLY)
|
|
You acquitted yourself well on the
|
|
field of battle today.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Really? I got scared.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Everyone is a coward at some point
|
|
in their lives.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn comes in. He sees a box under James' bed. Sanborn
|
|
picks up the box under James' bed and plops it on the table,
|
|
intentionally breaking up the love-fest between James and
|
|
Eldridge.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Hey Owen, look! Will has
|
|
possessions! I didn't know you
|
|
owned anything, Will.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn pulls a picture frame out of the box. It's a picture
|
|
of a baby boy. Eldridge leans in.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
That's my son. A real tough little
|
|
bastard. Like me.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
So you're married?
|
|
|
|
James is uncomfortable with the subject. Intimacy isn't easy
|
|
for him. He rolls his eyes, nods.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Well, she was my girlfriend, we had
|
|
a baby, then she became my wife,
|
|
then we got divorced. (pause) I
|
|
thought we got divorced. (pause)
|
|
But she's still in the house, and
|
|
she says we're still together.
|
|
(MORE)
|
|
72
|
|
|
|
JAMES (CONT'D)
|
|
So, I don't know. What does that
|
|
make her?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Dumb, to be with you?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
She ain't dumb. She's loyal.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
My problem is the one girl who I
|
|
like keeps talking about kids.
|
|
Kids. Kids.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO SANBORN)
|
|
Give her your sperm, stud.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Nah. I'm not ready.
|
|
(looking around the box,
|
|
finds a circuit board.) )
|
|
And what's this?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn sees there are many such parts in the box.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Bomb parts.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No shit. Why do you have them?
|
|
|
|
James reaches into the box. Pulls out a circuit. Looks at it
|
|
admiringly.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
This is from the Blue Opal. (to
|
|
himself) It's wild, isn't it, to
|
|
hold something in your hands that
|
|
could have killed you. (he tosses
|
|
the board to Sanborn)
|
|
|
|
Eldridge leans over, pulls another board out of the box. He's
|
|
fascinated by James' obsession.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
What's this one from?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(warming to the attention)
|
|
That was one of our early roadside
|
|
bombs we disarmed, the one with --
|
|
73
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(looking at the board)
|
|
--it's a piece of junk from Radio
|
|
Shack.
|
|
|
|
James shrugs. He reaches over to get the circuit board from
|
|
Sanborn, who clearly doesn't share his fascination.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
IT'S INTERESTING
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I agree.
|
|
|
|
In the distance, sound of BOMBS going off. The men pause to
|
|
listen.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(TO ELDRIDGE)
|
|
The only reason he likes you is
|
|
because you act like his bitch, and
|
|
you look up to him, and he likes to
|
|
be the top dog.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I agree with that too.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Oh no, (picking up James' pistol)
|
|
The humiliation is too great to
|
|
bear. (he pulls the trigger while
|
|
slipping out the clip). Good-bye
|
|
world.
|
|
|
|
The gun clicks harmlessly. Eldridge laughs.
|
|
|
|
A gust of wind rattles the front door.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
That punch was harder than I hit
|
|
you. I'm owed a good one.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Alright.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Hold on, we need some rules. No
|
|
face shots.
|
|
|
|
James lifts off his shirt, getting into fighting mode.
|
|
Eldridge picks up a marker and begins to draw a bulls-eye on
|
|
James' stomach, stopping when he sees a cluster of scars.
|
|
74
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Beauty mark, my mother dropped me
|
|
at birth.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Looks like frag scars.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn slugs James. James doubles over, loses his balance
|
|
and falls back. James gets up, laughing so hard it hurts.
|
|
Tears of laughter falling down his face.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Ahhhh! Excellent. Now your turn.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn braces for the blow. James gets ready to strike, then
|
|
fakes a swing -- his fist stops just shy of Sanborn's cheek.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn's eyes go wide as -- James nails him with his other
|
|
hand, right in the gut -- Sanborn doubles over.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(LAUGHING)
|
|
Looks like it hurt.
|
|
|
|
Moving forward aggressively, suddenly James looks like he
|
|
could kill. A complete change in his demeanor, as wind rocks
|
|
the trailer, causing the light bulb to rattle and cast a
|
|
STRANGE SHADOW
|
|
|
|
-- then James rushes Sanborn, tackling him -- they crash into
|
|
the corner of the room -- in a flash James is on top of
|
|
Sanborn, pinning him -- Sanborn moves to punch James but
|
|
James pins his hands -- James taps Sanborn lightly on the
|
|
cheek, caressing his cheek.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
There there. It'll be okay.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Get off of me you freak.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn tries to buck James off. Forcefully raising his hips.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Oh yeah, ride me, ride me.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn reaches for his boot knife. He flicks it open, brings
|
|
the blade to James' throat. Their eyes lock. James dismounts,
|
|
laughing. Stumbles back to the table.
|
|
75
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You're alright, Sanborn. Let's have
|
|
another.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY LATER
|
|
|
|
The wind is blowing harder, kicking up sand. Overhead, a full
|
|
moon is blazing.
|
|
|
|
James looks up at the moon. It's dazzling. James and Eldridge
|
|
support Sanborn as they weave towards Eldridge's trailer.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I got him.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge passes Sanborn off to James, and heads up the stairs
|
|
to his trailer.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Later.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn sags. James pulls him back. They walk a little
|
|
farther to Sanborn's trailer --
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Okay. Here we go big boy.
|
|
|
|
And half carries Sanborn up the steps.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. SANBORN'S TRAILER
|
|
|
|
James eases Sanborn onto a cot, and as he falls onto the cot,
|
|
the WHITE ENVELOPE falls out of his pocket.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Do you think I have what it takes
|
|
to get in the bomb suit?
|
|
|
|
James didn't expect this.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Sure.
|
|
|
|
James picks up the white envelope and puts it on Sanborn's
|
|
night table.
|
|
|
|
He looks back. Sanborn is already asleep.
|
|
76
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY AFTER MIDNIGHT
|
|
|
|
The whole camp is asleep but James is standing outside,
|
|
holding a satellite phone. He's swaying. Drunk.
|
|
|
|
CONNIE O.S.
|
|
(SLEEPILY)
|
|
James, my God, what time is it? Are
|
|
you alright.
|
|
|
|
Pause.
|
|
|
|
CONNIE O.S.
|
|
James?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(SLIGHTLY SLURRED)
|
|
I'm doing fine, babe. How are you?
|
|
|
|
CONNIE O.S.
|
|
Well, you woke me up. But - ah - we
|
|
- we're fine. (getting more lively)
|
|
Will junior said "bobba" He means
|
|
bottle, but he's talking, Will.
|
|
|
|
James looks around the camp. All he sees is its immensity,
|
|
the tremendous scope of the operation. This is military
|
|
might, raw power. As good as it gets.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Great. I'll call you tomorrow when
|
|
you're awake.
|
|
|
|
CONNIE O.S.
|
|
Will, I can't wait until you come
|
|
home.
|
|
|
|
Silence.
|
|
|
|
CONNIE (CONT'D)
|
|
Will?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(trying his best to mean
|
|
IT)
|
|
Yeah, me too.
|
|
|
|
CONNIE O.S.
|
|
Will you call me again soon?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Sure. Bye honey.
|
|
77
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
CONNIE O.S.
|
|
Bye honey.
|
|
|
|
James hits the END button on the phone and walks up the steps
|
|
to his trailer --
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT JAMES TRAILER LATER THAT NIGHT
|
|
|
|
He stumbles inside, drops the satellite phone down on his
|
|
desk, next to his bomb suit helmet, and sinks into bed. He
|
|
lies there, clothed and awake, and stares at the helmet,
|
|
looking at his reflection in the polished glass.
|
|
|
|
Then James reaches over to the helmet and lifts it up, hefts
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
He puts the helmet on his head.
|
|
|
|
Alone in his bed, wearing his helmet.
|
|
|
|
Smiling behind the glass, for he now he can sense the bomb,
|
|
and feel his nearness to death.
|
|
|
|
We hear the RASP of his breathing.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT SANBORN'S TRAILER MORNING
|
|
|
|
Sanborn blinks awake to a painfully bright sun. He shifts his
|
|
attention to the white envelope on the table.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT CAMP VICTORY WAREHOUSE DAY
|
|
|
|
A SOLDIER wearing glasses is talking to Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
What can I do for you?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I have something?
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
Remains?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
Personal effects?
|
|
78
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Yeah.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn reaches into his back pocket, withdraws the white
|
|
envelope. He opens it. Inside are Thompson's DOG TAGS. He
|
|
crumples the envelope, lets it fall to the floor. And grips
|
|
the tags tightly.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
What's the name?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Thompson, Matt. Sergeant EOD. Baker
|
|
Company.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
(looking at a form)
|
|
Okay let me see. He's at three-
|
|
three-eight. (looking) third aisle
|
|
down the hall.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn turns to look, and now we see where he's standing: in
|
|
the MORTUARY AFFAIRS UNIT, in a large room filled with white
|
|
boxes. It looks like an art installation, each white box
|
|
spaced evenly in a cavernous space.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
I'll walk you over there.
|
|
|
|
They walk down the aisles, passing rows and rows of white
|
|
boxes, and finally stop.
|
|
|
|
The soldier opens one.
|
|
|
|
Inside are a pair of boots. A stack of clothes. Books.
|
|
Photographs. The remains of a life.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
Here you go. Did you know him?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn places the tags on the uniform in the box.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Yeah, I did. He was my team leader.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
Oh, I'm sorry brother.
|
|
|
|
They walk up the aisles, again passing the rows of white
|
|
boxes.
|
|
|
|
At the entrance, Sanborn turns. The soldier offers his hand.
|
|
They shake warmly.
|
|
79
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Thank you. Thank you.
|
|
|
|
The soldier, a little perplexed at Sanborn's gratitude,
|
|
doesn't know what to say.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn leaves, notices the empty ENVELOPE on the floor.
|
|
Litter. He picks it up and stuffs it back into his pocket.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT MESS TENT DAY
|
|
|
|
James and Eldridge eat in hung-over silence.
|
|
|
|
Tired.
|
|
|
|
After a while...
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Tough night.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hell, yeah.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge nods.
|
|
|
|
Wind picks up. The whole tent shakes.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Aren't you supposed to be at your
|
|
shrink?
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
I fired him. I said, Doc, shooting
|
|
a man had a salubrious effect on
|
|
me.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
What the hell does that mean?
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Healthy.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You're healthy? Well, why not.
|
|
|
|
They go back to eating.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn joins James and Eldridge.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
What's up team?
|
|
80
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They nod silently as he sits. Sluggishly he throws his hand
|
|
down on the table.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Can I get a Huu-haa?
|
|
|
|
Eldridge slaps a tired hand on top of Sanborn's. James
|
|
follows suit. They wearily lift their arms in mock
|
|
enthusiasm.
|
|
|
|
All at once: "Huu-haa."
|
|
|
|
Sanborn wolfs down some food.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I'm going back to sleep now.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Let's roll.
|
|
|
|
They get up to bus their trays. And nearing the dirty-tray
|
|
bin, the flaps of the tent billow more and more vigorously.
|
|
Outside, a storm is brewing.
|
|
|
|
Each man unfurls the checkered scarf around their neck and
|
|
wraps their face for the wind.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY DAY
|
|
|
|
Wind rakes sand and dust over the tent city, giving it an
|
|
otherworldly aspect. Throngs of men and vehicles fight the
|
|
swirl. It impedes their every move.
|
|
|
|
The three men continue onwards, as the intensity of the storm
|
|
grows.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT HEAD SHED DAY
|
|
|
|
The storm is HOWLING now. Visibility is reduced to a few
|
|
feet. Red sand blows mercilessly. It's Mars.
|
|
|
|
|
|
TITLE OVER:
|
|
|
|
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY'S ROTATION: 16
|
|
|
|
As they approach the head shed, a Humvee comes blasting out
|
|
of the storm from the other direction. It skids to a halt in
|
|
front of them.
|
|
|
|
Three wounded EOD TECHS and an EOD TEAM LEADER tumble out.
|
|
81
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They look awful. One step shy of death. One man's face is
|
|
smeared brown. Blood oozes from a deep gash in his cheek.
|
|
Another tech is covered in black soot. Their hands still
|
|
clutch their weapons -- the battle still wages in their
|
|
minds.
|
|
|
|
TEAM LEADER
|
|
(shouting to James)
|
|
It was a car bomb. Fucking nasty
|
|
one -- they had a decoy detonator
|
|
set up so that when I disarmed it
|
|
nothing happened -- then, I'm
|
|
walking back uprange to get some
|
|
more tools and boooom!!! If I
|
|
hadn't been wearing the suit, I'd
|
|
be dead right now.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Get a Medic to look at your cheek.
|
|
|
|
The wounded TEAM LEADER touches his face and blood smears on
|
|
his hand...he looks down...surreal to see your own blood.
|
|
The First Sergeant trots over.
|
|
|
|
TEAM LEADER
|
|
(amazed at the sight of
|
|
HIS BLOOD) )
|
|
It's no big deal.
|
|
(now turning his attention
|
|
back to James) )
|
|
Be careful. They're starting to
|
|
hide the detonator really well.
|
|
|
|
The FIRST SERGEANT turns his attention to James:
|
|
|
|
FIRST SERGEANT
|
|
Sorry to ruin your day off, but
|
|
your team is up.
|
|
|
|
James blinks back sand and dust blowing into his eyes.
|
|
|
|
So much for the nap.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HUMVEE CAMP VICTORY PARKING LOT
|
|
|
|
Lt. COL. CAMBRIDGE knocks on the window. Startling the men.
|
|
His face appears in the sand storm.
|
|
|
|
LT. COL. CAMBRIDGE
|
|
(SHOUTING)
|
|
Are you guys about to go out?
|
|
82
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah.
|
|
|
|
LT. COL. CAMBRIDGE
|
|
Mind if I ride along? I'm sick to
|
|
death of sitting behind a desk all
|
|
the time.
|
|
|
|
James shoots Eldridge a look. Eldridge shrugs.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Anytime, Sir. It's a privilege.
|
|
|
|
The LT. COL. CAMBRIDGE gets in. As they drive out.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Don't mean to insult your
|
|
intelligence, Sir. But if the shit
|
|
hits the fan, please don't fire out
|
|
of these windows. They're bullet
|
|
proof and the round will just
|
|
bounce around the cabin.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. ABU GRAIB CENTER BOMBED OUT BUILDING DAY
|
|
|
|
A partially destroyed building fills the screen. A mess of
|
|
bricks and rebar. Wind swirls sand up into the air.
|
|
|
|
Nearby, an OLD IRAQI MAN with a DONKEY drawn cart is
|
|
unloading new bricks to repair the building.
|
|
|
|
Farther up the road, a good distance from the building, are
|
|
two parked Humvees. Nearby, James and his team are talking to
|
|
a small cluster of SOLDIERS.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER 1
|
|
(pointing back at the
|
|
BUILDING)
|
|
Right up those stairs.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You been inside already?
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER 1
|
|
In there? Fuck no. We've had
|
|
reports of all kinds of shit coming
|
|
out of that house -- and--
|
|
|
|
James takes his eyes off the building and turns to the
|
|
Soldier.
|
|
83
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
AND WHAT--
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER 1
|
|
--bodies.
|
|
|
|
James turns to Cambridge.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Why don't you wait here? We'll
|
|
bring out anything of interest.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT BOMBED OUT BUILDING LATE MORNING
|
|
|
|
James, Sanborn and Eldridge enter a landing. The floor is
|
|
very wet. They cross it, and come to a room that has been
|
|
severely damaged by a bomb, with rubble everywhere and
|
|
exposed electrical wires dangling from the ceiling, and
|
|
busted pipes gushing water.
|
|
|
|
A tea pot sits on a STOVE, steaming hot, and a plate on the
|
|
table has bread on it.
|
|
|
|
James bends the gushing pipe, stemming the flow of water to a
|
|
trickle. Now the spitting wire hanging above the water pipe
|
|
looks less ominous. But not by much.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CORRIDOR
|
|
|
|
They continue down a narrow corridor, light diminishing. They
|
|
switch on the lights on their M4s. The corridor ends at a
|
|
door.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
This would be a great place to put
|
|
a pressure activator.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah, with like twenty pounds of
|
|
high explosives on it so you get
|
|
anyone in the room when you open
|
|
the door.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Rope trick?
|
|
|
|
Eldridge uncoils rope from his pack and hands it to James,
|
|
who makes a lasso and tosses it over the doorknob.
|
|
84
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BOMBED OUT BUILDING
|
|
|
|
James yanks the rope -- we follow the rope inside through the
|
|
kitchen to the doorknob, watching it turn. No bomb.
|
|
|
|
They head back in.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT DOOR/STAIRS BOMBED OUT BUILDING
|
|
|
|
Ascending a staircase. James unstraps a flash grenade from
|
|
his vest and heaves it onto the floor above. They stick
|
|
their fingers in their ears...
|
|
|
|
Blinding FLASH and DEAFENING sound. Then silence. No
|
|
movement.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Guess no one's home.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER O.S.
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
Blaster One, what was that?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Sorry, one of ours, just a flash
|
|
grenade.
|
|
|
|
They come to a landing that opens up to the second floor.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SECOND FLOOR
|
|
|
|
A large cavernous space filled with what looks like Santa's
|
|
bomb making factory: A pile of motherboards. Batteries. Boom
|
|
boxes. Electronics in various states of disassembly. In
|
|
another corner, stacks of artillery shells. Blocks of C4
|
|
plastic explosives.
|
|
|
|
In the back half of the room, there is a work table, and on
|
|
the table is a DEAD BODY of a young man, wearing pants but no
|
|
shirt. A JACKET draped is over its torso and face. Even for
|
|
these hardened EOD experts, the sight is unnerving, and the
|
|
copper smell of spilt blood and death is staggering,
|
|
sickening.
|
|
|
|
James, Sanborn and Eldridge approach the body cautiously.
|
|
|
|
James pulls a retractable aluminum pole from his pack and
|
|
telescopes it to its maximum length, about 10 feet, and uses
|
|
the pole to lift the jacket. Gently. The FACE appears.
|
|
85
|
|
|
|
|
|
All that we can determine about this face is that it is
|
|
young. The distinguishing lines of the nose and cheeks are so
|
|
covered by bruises and blood and further obscured by the
|
|
shadows and dappled light, that it could be the face of
|
|
almost any young man.
|
|
|
|
The violence done to the face exerts an odd pull on James.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
The kid at camp.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
What?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
He sells DVDs.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No, that's not him.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You see him every day. He sells
|
|
DVDs by the mess tent. His name is
|
|
Pele.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Different kid.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
This is sick.
|
|
|
|
The dead young man's chest has been cut open. An artillery
|
|
shell is shoved inside the cavity where the heart used to
|
|
beat. Wires protrude from the shell. It's meant to be a booby
|
|
trap, to be placed on a street and elicit as much damage as
|
|
possible.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
You seen a body bomb before?
|
|
|
|
James shakes his head no.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn moves closer to the body and inspects the wiring in
|
|
the chest.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Don't touch it. Let's blow it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Positioning three blocks of C4 on the body, then plugs
|
|
blasting caps into the explosives. James nods to Sanborn and
|
|
Eldridge, and they leave him alone with the body.
|
|
86
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James walks backwards out of the room, unspooling a roll of
|
|
detonation cord as he goes. But before he gets to the door...
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER O.S.
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Blaster, we've got a hold. I'm not
|
|
getting airspace clearance.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Copy that, How long?
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER (O.S.)
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
Roger. Could be anything. At least
|
|
15 minutes is what they're saying.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Can you -- you need to explain to
|
|
them that we don't have 15 minutes.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER (O.S.)
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
Roger. I'll see if we can push this
|
|
ahead.
|
|
|
|
James squats down, rests his rifle, looks at the floor.
|
|
|
|
Moments pass and he feels a set of eyes on him.
|
|
|
|
He swivels his head to the left and makes eye contact with
|
|
the dead kid on the table. The face doesn't have any of the
|
|
markers of death; it looks alive.
|
|
|
|
James turns away, then is compelled to make eye contact
|
|
again. He looks at his watch. The seconds tick by all too
|
|
slowly. He grabs his walkie-talkie.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Fifteen is not going to work. I
|
|
need to do this now.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER (O.S.)
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
Roger, I understand. If it was me,
|
|
I would go for it, but I don't
|
|
think command is going to budge
|
|
under the circumstances.
|
|
87
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Tell command I'm in a fucking war
|
|
zone. And I'm going to blow now.
|
|
|
|
James gets up, clips his rifle, and takes the last few steps
|
|
out of the room.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER (O.S.)
|
|
(WALKIE-TALKIE)
|
|
Blaster One, I don't know who you
|
|
know, but you got your permission.
|
|
Ready to det any time you say so.
|
|
|
|
At the door he stops to look at the dead boy on the table. He
|
|
looks and looks. Finally:
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Cancel that det.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Reaching over the body of the boy. He pulls the artillery
|
|
shell out of the boy's abdomen with his bare hands. He wipes
|
|
his hands on his pants.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
This is Blaster One, I'm coming
|
|
down.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT BOMBED OUT BUILDING
|
|
|
|
James carries the body down the staircase. The head and feet
|
|
bump the sides of the staircase as he descends.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BOMBED OUT BUILDING MOMENTS LATER
|
|
|
|
The BODY lies on the street, James standing over it. A blue
|
|
and white pickup TRUCK emblazoned with the logo of the Iraqi
|
|
National Police pulls up to their position.
|
|
|
|
A pair of POLICEMEN get out and after a few words with James,
|
|
they load the body.
|
|
88
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and Eldridge sit across from each other, watching
|
|
James.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
...So you really don't think it was
|
|
the DVD kid?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No, I don't.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
You're positive?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Yeah. Could it be? One in a million
|
|
chance.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
I don't know. Will seemed positive.
|
|
But that was weird.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Very weird.
|
|
|
|
They look out the window and notice Lt. Colonel Cambridge
|
|
down the street surrounded by a crowd of IRAQI MEN.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CAMBRIDGE
|
|
|
|
Cambridge is trying to talk to several of them at once.
|
|
|
|
CAMBRIDGE
|
|
This is not a safe area for you.
|
|
Imshee!
|
|
|
|
They don't leave. Cambridge lifts his rifle, not quite
|
|
shouldering it. Then one MAN, mid thirties, in a suit, steps
|
|
forward.
|
|
|
|
IRAQI MAN
|
|
(FLAWLESS ENGLISH)
|
|
Why do you talk to us like
|
|
children. We are not children.
|
|
|
|
CAMBRIDGE
|
|
Gimme a break, will you?
|
|
|
|
IRAQI MAN
|
|
Why should I?
|
|
89
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Cambridge, suddenly not so sure of himself, looks back to the
|
|
Humvee and sees --
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Watching the police truck drive away. He then moves for the
|
|
Humvee, motioning for Cambridge to load up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
Eldridge guzzles some water. Wipes sweat from his brow.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
But then Will's pretty weird. He
|
|
keeps bomb parts under his bed.
|
|
|
|
Passing the water to Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I bet you he doesn't put this one
|
|
under his bed.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn laughs.
|
|
|
|
James cracks the door, jumps inside.
|
|
|
|
He sees Cambridge walk past the brick pile that the OLD IRAQI
|
|
MAN had created. The man is no longer there. Something
|
|
crosses his mind when--
|
|
|
|
--The brick pile explodes in a A SICKENING BLAST,
|
|
obliterating Cambridge and flipping the Humvee
|
|
|
|
--James, Sanborn and Eldridge SPIN upside down as the Humvee
|
|
is buffeted by the blast - landing upside down.
|
|
|
|
--Suddenly CAMBRIDGE'S helmeted HEAD crashes into the
|
|
windshield.
|
|
|
|
--Billowing smoke, dirt and debris smears the windshield
|
|
blotting out the sun.
|
|
|
|
--Inside, a flurry of HANDS yank on the heavy armored Humvee
|
|
door. It doesn't budge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
A SOLDIER runs to the rescue. He reaches for the Humvee door,
|
|
the metal sears his hand, and he pulls back in pain.
|
|
90
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The soldier uses his rifle butt to jam the door open - but
|
|
that doesn't work, because the butt doesn't catch the handle.
|
|
From inside, the POUNDING and YELLS grow louder.
|
|
|
|
The soldier drops the rifle and grabs the searing metal with
|
|
his hand, burning his flesh as he pries the handle.
|
|
|
|
The Humvee door finally gives. Three men tumble out onto
|
|
blackened sand.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT BOMBED OUT BUILDING LATER
|
|
|
|
James is standing in the doorway into the building, dividing
|
|
his attention between the outside and the interior -- where
|
|
Sanborn and Eldridge are slumped against a wall.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn stares at a blank wall. Eldridge is running his hand
|
|
over a cigarette lighter -- seeing how much of the flame he
|
|
can bear. He looks as if he's hoping the physical pain will
|
|
help put the psychic pain in perspective.
|
|
|
|
James, standing in the light of the doorway, is smoldering
|
|
with rage and ungovernable purpose. He's smoking.
|
|
|
|
We stay here for a moment to watch as each man makes his own
|
|
deal with himself.
|
|
|
|
Through the open doorway a Humvee comes into view.
|
|
|
|
James stomps out his cigarette.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Our ride is here.
|
|
|
|
Beat.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and Eldridge remain in a trance.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
We're movin'.
|
|
|
|
He walks out into the glare. Sanborn and Eldridge rise to
|
|
follow him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY DUSK
|
|
|
|
Funnel of wind erases a tank tread in the sand.
|
|
91
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
More sand drifts and piles like snow up against a small
|
|
mountain of sand bags.
|
|
|
|
Sand disappears the windshield of a parked Abrams as day
|
|
moves into night.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY MESS TENT MORNING
|
|
|
|
Dust. Wind.
|
|
|
|
James is stalking towards an OLDER IRAQI MAN who is selling
|
|
DVDs at Pele's usual table.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hey - you haven't seen that kid
|
|
around here by any chance - who
|
|
sells movies?
|
|
|
|
The man shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
DVD MAN
|
|
Sorry. No English.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
No English? Don't lie to me.
|
|
Where's that kid?
|
|
|
|
DVD MAN
|
|
Sorry, my man. Movie? Five dollars.
|
|
|
|
James shakes his head and walks away, heading towards a clump
|
|
of SOLDIERS standing in the shade of a tree.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Are you guys responsible for this
|
|
area?
|
|
|
|
GUARD
|
|
What's up?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
That motherfucker over there
|
|
(pointing to the Man) could be an
|
|
insurgent, watching the camp and
|
|
giving intel to his buddies so they
|
|
know where to launch their mortars.
|
|
|
|
GUARD
|
|
I think he's just a guy selling
|
|
DVDs.
|
|
92
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
He's a security risk. You should
|
|
get rid of him.
|
|
|
|
GUARD
|
|
The merchants are cleared. I
|
|
couldn't do anything to him without
|
|
the say-so from my CO.
|
|
|
|
James realizes that he has no hope of prevailing. Agitated,
|
|
he turns away, and we stay with him as he trudges down one of
|
|
Victory's dusty roads.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP VICTORY MESS TENT DUSK
|
|
|
|
It's the end of the day and the DVD seller packs up his wares
|
|
to go.
|
|
|
|
James, in sunglasses, sweatshirt covering his army fatigues,
|
|
follows him to his car. James draws near, and points his
|
|
pistol at the guy's crotch.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Does this change anything?
|
|
|
|
The DVD man looks stunned.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT DVD MAN'S CAR CAMP VICTORY GATE DUSK
|
|
|
|
James leans across the DVD man and flashes his ID to one of
|
|
two GUARDs.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
OGA.
|
|
|
|
The guard looks to his buddy who mouths "CIA"
|
|
|
|
GUARD
|
|
Are you cleared to leave the camp
|
|
through this gate, Sir?
|
|
|
|
James nods.
|
|
|
|
GUARD
|
|
I'm going to need to see your ID
|
|
again.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Don't fuck with me man, I'm having
|
|
a bad day already.
|
|
93
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The guard stares at James. James stares at the guard. The
|
|
guard shrugs, waves James through.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD STREET NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The truck goes down a series of streets. It comes into a poor
|
|
neighborhood and stops at a house.
|
|
|
|
DVD MAN
|
|
Pele.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Wait here.
|
|
|
|
James gets out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD STREET HOUSE
|
|
|
|
The dwelling is set back behind a low wall. Hard to see much
|
|
of it in the dim light.
|
|
|
|
James takes a step forward, toward the wall.
|
|
|
|
SUDDENLY--
|
|
|
|
the DVD truck peels out.
|
|
|
|
James looks at its retreating tail lights. A moment of
|
|
indecision as he considers his situation: alone in Baghdad.
|
|
|
|
Then he vaults the low wall, landing in
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD COURTYARD
|
|
|
|
A modest courtyard. Light comes from one window in the house,
|
|
the rest is dark. Crickets.
|
|
|
|
James walks around to the back of the house. There's a door.
|
|
He tries the knob. It opens.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT IRAQI HOUSE HALLWAY
|
|
|
|
In a dark hallway. Murmuring of a television. James moves
|
|
towards the noise.
|
|
94
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT IRAQI HOUSE ANTECHAMBER
|
|
|
|
James comes to an antechamber. Behind it is a very low stone
|
|
archway. He goes through the archway, where -
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT IRAQI HOUSE LIVING ROOM
|
|
|
|
A MAN -- call him Kalim -- older, fifties, dressed in
|
|
traditional garb, sits at a table drinking tea, watching an
|
|
Egyptian game show on television.
|
|
|
|
James walks in, gun drawn.
|
|
|
|
The man is spooked. He spills his tea, looks wildly for an
|
|
exit.
|
|
|
|
James puts his fingers to his lips.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Do you speak English?
|
|
|
|
KALIM
|
|
English, French, Arabic.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(QUIETLY)
|
|
I want the people responsible for
|
|
Pele.
|
|
|
|
KALIM
|
|
For whom?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Pele. The body bomb.
|
|
|
|
KALIM
|
|
Pele? I don't know. But please sit
|
|
down. I am professor Kalim, this is
|
|
my home. You are a guest. Sit.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Take me to the people responsible.
|
|
|
|
KALIM
|
|
Of course, whatever you seek, I
|
|
will help you find. Please, please
|
|
sit, down. You are CIA, no? I am
|
|
very pleased to have CIA in my
|
|
home.
|
|
|
|
James raises his gun to aim at the man's face.
|
|
95
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Maybe you don't understand?
|
|
|
|
The man is suddenly very afraid.
|
|
|
|
KALIM
|
|
Please, be careful. Be slow. A gun
|
|
can go off.
|
|
|
|
As the back door opens
|
|
|
|
-- James spins to see
|
|
|
|
-- a WOMAN, older, matronly. She sees James, his gun. And she
|
|
starts shouting at James in Arabic, then English, "Get out,
|
|
get out."
|
|
|
|
James swings his gun to her.
|
|
|
|
SUDDENLY--
|
|
|
|
-- behind the woman comes Pele. He runs to his father's side.
|
|
|
|
-- James turns to the boy, to say something --
|
|
|
|
-- his mother is rushing James now, swinging a candlestick
|
|
|
|
-- he spins to the door, trying to get out of there --
|
|
|
|
-- SMASHING his head on the stone archway on his way out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. IRAQI HOUSE
|
|
|
|
-- the street.
|
|
|
|
James is shaken. He looks around, down the street. It's
|
|
murky. Dangerous. Even the shadows have shadows.
|
|
|
|
He runs...and runs...and we stay on his eyes. Blood runs from
|
|
the wound on his head.
|
|
|
|
SOUND of far off EXPLOSION. The sky turns orange briefly,
|
|
then fades into blackness.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY GATE NIGHT
|
|
|
|
A blast of bright white light floods James. He's stunned -
|
|
and raises his ID in his open palm over his head. A scrap of
|
|
blood stained fabric is wrapped around his head wound.
|
|
96
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Multiple rifles suddenly trained on his upturned face. VOICES
|
|
SLAP CONCRETE:
|
|
|
|
GUARDS
|
|
On your knees, on your knees!!
|
|
|
|
A big offish GUARD walks up and slams a rifle butt into the
|
|
side of James' head.
|
|
|
|
He falls to the ground.
|
|
|
|
GUARD
|
|
What're you doing?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(GASPING)
|
|
Ficke, ficke.
|
|
|
|
The guard sees the military ID splayed on the ground.
|
|
|
|
GUARD
|
|
Yeah?
|
|
|
|
James nods.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Whorehouse two clicks from here.
|
|
|
|
GUARD
|
|
If I let you in, will you tell me
|
|
where it is exactly?
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY NIGHT
|
|
|
|
James walking along a dark camp road. He walks up to the head
|
|
shed porch, and goes inside. His walkie, sitting on a desk,
|
|
comes to life.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
I repeat, do you copy? Do you copy?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Yeah, I'm right here. What's up?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Oh nothing.
|
|
(MORE)
|
|
97
|
|
|
|
SANBORN (CONT'D)
|
|
(sarcastically) Just wondering if
|
|
you might want to join us in the
|
|
Humvee for a little outing the Army
|
|
wants us to go on.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Copy that. What's you're twenty.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
We're at the south gate, James.
|
|
We've been waiting for you for half
|
|
an hour. Where have you been? Over.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HUMVEE MINUTES LATER
|
|
|
|
James jumps in. Sanborn and Eldridge shoot him impatient
|
|
looks.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn hits the gas.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
A tanker blew up near the Green
|
|
Zone about an hour ago. We're doing
|
|
a post-blast on it. To figure out
|
|
how the suicide bomber pulled it
|
|
off. So where did you say you were
|
|
again?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I didn't. Sergeant. Let's go.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
What happened to your head.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Watch the road, Owen.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn looks at him, shakes his head. James stares out the
|
|
window.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD STREET LATE NIGHT
|
|
|
|
A pair of Humvee headlights, glowing orange in smoke filled
|
|
air, come rapidly toward us. They stop, the Humvee groans on
|
|
idle.
|
|
|
|
James' team gets out.
|
|
98
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They walk down the street, guns low, combat flashlights on.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Sanborn, get the big spotlights.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn doubles back to the truck, roots around in the back,
|
|
comes running back with two giant flash-lights. James hits
|
|
the switch. Sanborn hits the switch.
|
|
|
|
A pool of intensely bright light opens in front of them,
|
|
revealing a rubble strewn street. Concrete. Bits of glass.
|
|
Metal. Everything that goes into a city -- pulverized.
|
|
|
|
We hear CRUNCHING sounds as the men walk down the street and
|
|
their feet fall on the blast remnants. The crunching gets
|
|
louder as they walk towards a GLOWING RED INFERNO at the end
|
|
of the block.
|
|
|
|
A Soldier's head, then his shoulders visible in the distance.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Friendlies, coming `in.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
You guys the Medics?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
No, we're EOD.
|
|
|
|
They walk past, deeper into the gloom.
|
|
|
|
Two soldiers run past them, carrying a stretcher.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Hey.
|
|
|
|
They stop to see what he's looking at. Twisted metal.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
That's an engine block. A big one,
|
|
too. From a truck probably.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Oil tanker?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
It's what I'm thinking.
|
|
|
|
The men keep walking, and now the SOUNDS from the Inferno are
|
|
louder.
|
|
|
|
Another man rushes towards them, his face shrouded in
|
|
blackness.
|
|
99
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sanborn points his rifle at the man's head. Hits him with the
|
|
Hi-Beam of his light. The man is wearing a black wool ski
|
|
mask.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Stop! Wagef! Wagef!
|
|
|
|
SKI MASKED MAN
|
|
No. I am working here.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn looks at him. Doesn't reply.
|
|
|
|
James puts his gun up on the guy. Now Eldridge does too. This
|
|
guy is about to be toast.
|
|
|
|
When...
|
|
|
|
A face appears next to him.
|
|
|
|
FACE
|
|
He's with me.
|
|
|
|
Guns cover the face...
|
|
|
|
Then they see that above the face is a helmet...
|
|
|
|
And on the top of the helmet is a COLONEL'S INSIGNIA.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
Okay fellas?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Sorry, Sir. I didn't recognize you.
|
|
|
|
Guns are lowered, fast.
|
|
|
|
Now that the Colonel is fully visible in the light we can see
|
|
that he's shaken by the scene of destruction around him.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
We haven't found a body so it could
|
|
be a suicide bomber or some clever
|
|
bastard that caused all this -- and
|
|
slipped away to sip tea with his
|
|
mommie -- we just don't know.
|
|
|
|
As the Colonel struggles to define the horror he's just seen,
|
|
James jumps in to save him:
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
We'll take a close look, Sir.
|
|
100
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
This kind of situation we may never
|
|
know what happened. This is a mass
|
|
casualty situation - terrible
|
|
destruction.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Roger that, Sir. We'll do our best.
|
|
|
|
A stretcher comes by.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
They're cowards, you know. I wish
|
|
they would stand up and fight us,
|
|
man to man, instead of playing hide
|
|
and seek with me.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Roger, Sir. We better get moving.
|
|
|
|
COLONEL REED
|
|
Right, go ahead Sergeant.
|
|
|
|
The Colonel nods and moves off. His translator stands for a
|
|
moment. Takes off his ski mask to reveal an intelligent face
|
|
with deep set eyes and a dirty smear of five o'clock shadow.
|
|
|
|
SKI MASKED MAN
|
|
I'm Ahmed. My name is Ahmed. Thank
|
|
you for not shooting me.
|
|
|
|
The men move on...
|
|
|
|
Advancing toward the plume of smoke and embers rising into
|
|
the sky...smell of burning rubber and charred metal...
|
|
|
|
...until they see it --
|
|
|
|
--the twisted steel carcasses of two small vehicles and a
|
|
TANKER.
|
|
|
|
The image is biblical - the wounded and dead piled together
|
|
in one Hieronymus Bosch maze of tangled limbs, body parts...
|
|
|
|
Palm trees burning at the top...like Olympic torches.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIERS secure the area. GRIEVING FAMILIES swarm around the
|
|
dead and dying --
|
|
|
|
James, Sanborn and Eldridge approach. Wind fans nearby
|
|
flames into a fountain of embers that float up into the black
|
|
desert night.
|
|
101
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James moves through charred metal, stumbling over something
|
|
sharp.
|
|
|
|
-- then something hits his leg... What? Flashlight, gun --
|
|
DOWN! -- it's a CHICKEN, charred -- feathers burned off but
|
|
still walking around - disoriented, dying...
|
|
|
|
James stumbles sideways to avoid the charred hens...
|
|
|
|
SOUNDS distant and near of wailing, MEDICS racing onto the
|
|
SCENE --
|
|
|
|
A WOMAN wearing Bhurka appears out of the distant flames and
|
|
haze -- looking disoriented, in apparent state of shock --
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
A BODY lies trapped beneath a pile of rubble. Sanborn reaches
|
|
down to remove one of the chunks of stone. It slides away,
|
|
but another falls in its place.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
|
|
Shines his light on a concrete wall, stained with what looks
|
|
like threads of black lace. He draws closer. What is it?
|
|
Sanborn leans in.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
It's hair.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Approaches the woman in the Bhurka --
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hey! Hey -- you alright? -- Keef
|
|
Halek?
|
|
|
|
She turns to face him...madness in her eyes.
|
|
|
|
James' flashlight illuminates a massive crater, black...and
|
|
empty.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge swirls around.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(CALLING)
|
|
James?!
|
|
102
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hey, I'm right here.
|
|
|
|
James is shining his light into a orange tree. There's a
|
|
PERFECTLY formed ORANGE, unharmed, nestled among the burnt
|
|
leaves.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
This is where the blast stopped.
|
|
(beat) Look over there.
|
|
|
|
James is pointing to a building in the distance. It's past a
|
|
row of houses and a field.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn comes into view. James nods to him and points again.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Perfect vantage point for a remote
|
|
det -- and I bet he's out there
|
|
right now watching us make fools of
|
|
ourselves. We could get him.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
You want to go out there?
|
|
|
|
James keeps looking into the distance.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah, let's go hunting.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
I could stand to get in some
|
|
trouble.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn stares at James and the bandage on his head.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
No?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Man, this is bullshit. You got --
|
|
what?-- three infantry platoons
|
|
here. That's their job.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(FIERCELY)
|
|
You don't say No to me, Sergeant. I
|
|
say No to you -- and I'm not going
|
|
to let this bomber slink off while
|
|
the grunts get their act together.
|
|
(MORE)
|
|
103
|
|
|
|
JAMES (CONT'D)
|
|
(on the move)
|
|
Let's go. Now.
|
|
|
|
James glowers at Sanborn and Eldridge and stomps off, down
|
|
the alley toward an empty field.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge shoots Sanborn a sympathetic glance, and follows
|
|
James. Sanborn watches them recede into the darkness.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn runs after them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
FIELD
|
|
|
|
They move three abreast across a dark field, guns raised
|
|
commando-style. Poised to strike.
|
|
|
|
They walk in silence, alert to every decibel.
|
|
|
|
Gravel underfoot. Enveloping night.
|
|
|
|
They come to a high wall, behind which the ground raises to a
|
|
gentle hill that looks out onto the tanker.
|
|
|
|
|
|
WALL
|
|
|
|
Sanborn gives James a leg up over the wall. James helps
|
|
Sanborn over.
|
|
|
|
They lean over to pull Eldridge up but with the forty pounds
|
|
of gear he's got on he's too heavy.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You got to work on your pull ups.
|
|
|
|
James and Sanborn drop over the other side, and we follow
|
|
them as they crouch low and approach a building construction
|
|
site.
|
|
|
|
|
|
WALL
|
|
|
|
Eldridge pushes his back against the wall and scans the area.
|
|
It dawns on him that he's alone.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CONSTRUCTION SITE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and James come to the edge of the site and find what
|
|
may or may not be the remains of the trigger man's camp.
|
|
There's a florescent lantern still glowing and cigarette
|
|
butts in a pile.
|
|
104
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
That little bastard. Let's torch
|
|
this spot so he can't use it again.
|
|
|
|
James pats his pockets down, looking for something.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Do you have an incendiary?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
Three quick SHOTS ring out -- they sound very close.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn and James instinctively fall to one knee. They scan
|
|
the area -- nothing.
|
|
|
|
As one man, they rise and start running back to the wall.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Eldridge!!!
|
|
|
|
There's no answer.
|
|
|
|
|
|
WALL
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
He's gone.
|
|
|
|
They both drop to the ground on the other side.
|
|
|
|
They scan the ground with their flashlights.
|
|
|
|
The BODY of an Iraqi insurgent is lying close to where
|
|
Eldridge had been standing. He's pulped from bullet wounds,
|
|
and gasping for breath.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
This guy comes out of the dark -
|
|
Eldridge shoots.
|
|
|
|
He scavenges the ground looking for brass casings.
|
|
|
|
Nothing.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Three shots, close range. He takes
|
|
a step forward to see what he's
|
|
hit.
|
|
105
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Another guy comes from behind him --
|
|
gets the drop on him. You're a
|
|
hostage.
|
|
|
|
They look up and down the wall.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
That way is towards the tanker,
|
|
troops.
|
|
|
|
|
|
DARK STREET
|
|
|
|
They run about fifty yards when Sanborn TRIPS, stumbles,
|
|
James catches him as he falls, and they keep going.
|
|
|
|
In the distance, they see Eldridge's back and the backs of
|
|
two other MEN, just as they are turning a corner.
|
|
|
|
They SPRINT to the corner, and pause to catch their breath as
|
|
James hands Sanborn his flashlight.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hit `em with both lights on three.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Fuck. Okay.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
One. Two.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn shoulders his rifle and readies both spotlights.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Three.
|
|
|
|
They spin around the corner - flash of light revealing
|
|
NOTHING but an empty street.
|
|
|
|
They sprint to the next block, where Eldridge is being walked
|
|
quickly at gun point.
|
|
|
|
The men's rifles are at his head.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Again. One two three. Do it. Do it.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn shines the lights on the backs of both men.
|
|
|
|
James fires. Three shots at the guy on the left of Eldridge.
|
|
Three shots at the guy on the right.
|
|
106
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sanborn kills the flashlights.
|
|
|
|
James goes running towards the group, Sanborn running next to
|
|
him. Both have their guns up but lights off.
|
|
|
|
They get to the group and all three men are on the ground.
|
|
Both Iraqis are dead -- shot clean in the back.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge is bleeding profusely from his leg, but he's alive.
|
|
|
|
James and Sanborn pick Eldridge up and drudge back with him.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Am I dead?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
No. You're fine.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Am I dead? Am I dead? Am I dead?
|
|
|
|
Off James' face --
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT CAMP VICTORY SHOWER STALLS LATER THAT NIGHT
|
|
|
|
James walks in. The room is empty. Florescent lights hum.
|
|
James is still wearing his fatigues. His whole midsection is
|
|
red with Eldridge's blood.
|
|
|
|
James heads to the shower and steps inside, fully clothed. He
|
|
turns on the water.
|
|
|
|
Aims the shower head to his stomach. Sinks down so it can hit
|
|
the bloody stains.
|
|
|
|
As the uniform grows wet, then gets soaked, the pinkish water
|
|
swirls down the drain --
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY FIRST SERGEANT'S TRAILER
|
|
|
|
James and Sanborn emerge into the wind.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
So how you doing with this?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Fine. I'm fine.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Fine? You know I lied to our
|
|
sergeant.
|
|
(MORE)
|
|
107
|
|
|
|
SANBORN (CONT'D)
|
|
So Eldridge wouldn't have to go
|
|
around saying he was shot by his
|
|
own team leader.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah. Thanks. I'm just tired.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
You want some sleeping pills?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Nah, I'm good.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY HEAD SHED MORNING
|
|
|
|
James walks purposely out of the head shed toward a waiting
|
|
Humvee. He passes Pele who looks up and shouts:
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
Hey, Boomala, Boomala!
|
|
|
|
James keeps walking. Eyes straight ahead.
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
HEY--
|
|
|
|
Running up to James, holding DVD's, walks next to him.
|
|
|
|
PELE
|
|
(SMILING)
|
|
Look at these, best quality. No
|
|
special effects!
|
|
|
|
James just keeps walking. He gets in the car, Sanborn in the
|
|
driver's seat.
|
|
|
|
Pele watches him go. Hurt.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT CAMP VICTORY TARMAC MORNING
|
|
|
|
Eldridge is on a stretcher, being loaded into a military
|
|
transport helicopter. Sanborn and James are there to say good-
|
|
bye.
|
|
|
|
As Eldridge is being loaded in, James touches his shoulder.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You'll probably be walking in a few
|
|
months.
|
|
108
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
My tibia is shattered in nine
|
|
places I don't think I'm going to
|
|
be walking soon. The doc said six
|
|
months if I'm lucky.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Wow. Six ain't bad.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
Not bad? It fucking sucks man.
|
|
|
|
Eldridge is jostled as he gets put down. And he cries out in
|
|
pain.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
(ANGRILY)
|
|
You see that motherfucker. That's
|
|
what happens when you shoot
|
|
somebody.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I'm sorry.
|
|
|
|
ELDRIDGE
|
|
You're sorry? Fuck you, Will.
|
|
(meaning it) Really fuck you.
|
|
Thanks for saving my life and all
|
|
but we didn't have to go hunting
|
|
for the trigger man. You invented
|
|
it, to get your adrenaline fix. You
|
|
war mongering fuck.
|
|
|
|
James is stunned.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(grabbing Eldridge's hand)
|
|
Take care of yourself, Owen.
|
|
|
|
A TRANSPORT SOLDIER looks at Sanborn and gives a hand signal
|
|
to wrap it up. Time to go. The door is closed on Eldridge.
|
|
|
|
James and Sanborn watch as the helicopter takes off. The
|
|
rotor wash chops the air.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Wind and sand buffet his face. He turns to say something to
|
|
Sanborn.
|
|
109
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
But he's already walking away.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD STREET LATE AFTERNOON
|
|
|
|
A new sand storm has begun.
|
|
|
|
And so it's in a cloud of dusty orange air that we find
|
|
James, encased in his bomb suit, taking the first steps of
|
|
his trek towards...
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOWNRANGE
|
|
|
|
A WASHING MACHINE. Sitting in the middle of the street.
|
|
|
|
|
|
TITLE OVER:
|
|
|
|
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY'S ROTATION: 5
|
|
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn casts a nervous look around the poverty-stricken
|
|
neighborhood. It has taken on a forboding vibe in the
|
|
unrelenting storm.
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOWNRANGE
|
|
|
|
James approaches the washing machine.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(headset, impish grin)
|
|
I hear ticking.
|
|
|
|
He uses a long pole to open the door of the washing machine.
|
|
It's empty inside.
|
|
|
|
Getting closer, he sees the washing machine timer is at 30
|
|
minutes. James rests his head on the timer, listening.
|
|
|
|
He turns his attention to the back of the washing machine,
|
|
unscrewing the rear plate.
|
|
|
|
Inside, just a tangle of wires. He traces the wires with his
|
|
hand. Shrugs.
|
|
|
|
Then he turns back to the front of the machine. He twists the
|
|
timer with his hand, slowly, all the way back to zero.
|
|
110
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It DINGS -- harmlessly.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Hey, Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Copy. What's up?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Send your skivvies down here on the
|
|
bot, I'll run a quick bleach cycle.
|
|
Somebody threw out a perfectly good
|
|
washing machine.
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(RELIEVED)
|
|
Copy that.
|
|
|
|
--When, suddenly, the SOUND of SOLDIERS SHOUTING in the
|
|
distance catches Sanborn's ear.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Hustle back, something's going on.
|
|
|
|
|
|
MOMENTS LATER
|
|
|
|
James comes back sweating profusely from his run. Sanborn
|
|
helps take his helmet off.
|
|
|
|
As two SOLDIERS come running over. More SHOUTING in the
|
|
distance, louder now. "Hands on your head." "Don't move
|
|
asshole." "Stop. Stop."
|
|
|
|
In addition, the sound of SHOUTING IN ARABIC. A loud jumble.
|
|
|
|
Over that, SOLDIERS YELLING: "Get back." "Form a perimeter."
|
|
|
|
A NERVOUS SOLDIER trots up to James and Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
What's going on?
|
|
|
|
NERVOUS SOLDIER
|
|
We've got a situation with a
|
|
suicide bomber.
|
|
111
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
We'll follow you.
|
|
|
|
They follow the soldier down the road. The soldier is
|
|
sweating, terrified.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD ROAD
|
|
|
|
The road has been cordoned off by SOLDIERS on all sides.
|
|
|
|
In the middle of the road an IRAQI MAN IN A NEW BLACK SUIT is
|
|
standing with his hands above his head. He's distraught.
|
|
Hair mussed.
|
|
|
|
A SERGEANT seems to have taken command of the situation, and
|
|
now he alone is shouting to the man. "Stay still. Don't Move.
|
|
If you keep walking we will shoot you."
|
|
|
|
A TRANSLATOR in a black ski mask is helping him get the
|
|
message across.
|
|
|
|
The translator edges forward to talk to the BLACK SUIT man.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
Keep that translator back.
|
|
|
|
One of the soldiers grabs the translator.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
(to the soldier)
|
|
But the bomb was forced on him.
|
|
Against his will. He is not a bad
|
|
man!
|
|
|
|
James and Sanborn and the NERVOUS SOLDIER come onto the
|
|
scene.
|
|
|
|
The Sergeant turns to James and explains.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
He came walking up to our
|
|
checkpoint, said he had a bomb
|
|
strapped to him. He was sorry. He
|
|
didn't want it to blow up. He
|
|
begged us to take it off him.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
(TO JAMES)
|
|
Help this man. He's not a bad man.
|
|
112
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Not a bad man? You've got to be
|
|
kidding me.
|
|
(TO JAMES)
|
|
This is a trap. He wants to draw
|
|
people close to him.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO TRANSLATOR)
|
|
Tell him to open his jacket. I need
|
|
to see the bomb.
|
|
|
|
The translator SHOUTS in Arabic and the MAN unbuttons his
|
|
jacket, revealing several sticks of dynamite strapped to his
|
|
chest.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(to the soldier)
|
|
With that much bang, I'd need a
|
|
hundred meter perimeter.
|
|
(TO TRANSLATOR)
|
|
Tell him to get on his knees.
|
|
|
|
The translator SHOUTS. BLACK SUIT complies.
|
|
|
|
SERGEANT
|
|
Can we just shoot him?
|
|
|
|
As James considers that option when --
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
NO. He's not a bad man. He has a
|
|
family. The bomb was forced on him.
|
|
He is asking for help. Only help.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO TRANSLATOR)
|
|
I want you one hundred meters away,
|
|
like everybody else.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
But how will I hear?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You don't need to. I'm going down
|
|
there.
|
|
|
|
Meanwhile, the BLACK SUIT man is SHOUTING something in
|
|
Arabic.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO TRANSLATOR)
|
|
What the fuck is he shouting now?
|
|
113
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
He's asking you to hurry. He thinks
|
|
the bomb has a timer on it.
|
|
|
|
James turns to Sanborn
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Where's that helmet?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn pulls James aside.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
We've had our differences.
|
|
Eldridge? That's water under the
|
|
bridge. It happened. But this --
|
|
this is suicide.
|
|
|
|
James smiles at Sanborn. He just doesn't get it.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
That's why it's called a suicide
|
|
bomb.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
It's suicide for you, Will.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Nah. That guy wants to catch an
|
|
American? I'll give him an
|
|
American.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn reluctantly hands him his helmet, and seals him in.
|
|
|
|
James grabs a nearby soldier's walkie then starts the walk
|
|
downrange.
|
|
|
|
Soldiers moving back to their perimeter.
|
|
|
|
PEDESTRIANS gathering for a look. Soldiers scattering them
|
|
quickly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT
|
|
|
|
Smiles thinly as James nears.
|
|
|
|
James nods at him. The man nods, frightened.
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT
|
|
Inshalla. Inshalla.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Uh-huh.
|
|
114
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James kneels down to get a closer look at the bomb strapped
|
|
to the man's belly.
|
|
|
|
He takes out his 9mm and puts it on the guy's forehead. Cocks
|
|
the trigger.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
If I shoot you now, I can disarm
|
|
this bomb much more easily. Do you
|
|
understand?
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT stares at him blankly.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Sanborn, give your walkie to the
|
|
translator.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Yes?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
What the hell is this guy saying?
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT jabbers on in Arabic.
|
|
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
The translator keys his walkie.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
He says, I don't wish to die. I
|
|
have a family. Please take this off
|
|
me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Holds his walkie up for the man to hear the translator.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Hands have to stay behind his head
|
|
or I will be very happy to shoot
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
Translator conveys this to BLACK SUIT in Arabic.
|
|
115
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT starts yelling in Arabic. Forehead wet with
|
|
sweat.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
He says, please hurry he has a
|
|
family.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO TRANSLATOR)
|
|
That's not what I asked you. Now
|
|
I'm going to shoot if he doesn't
|
|
understand that he can't move his
|
|
hands.
|
|
|
|
James holds the walkie up to the man's ear. Translator has
|
|
another exchange.
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT
|
|
Yes. Yes. Yes!
|
|
|
|
Now James sinks to his knees and examines the bomb, all the
|
|
while keeping his pistol on the man's head.
|
|
|
|
There is a FOREST OF WIRES. He pushes them aside, revealing a
|
|
cheap Casio digital WATCH, which is counting down from five
|
|
minutes.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Sanborn, I need to get this rig
|
|
off. There's too many wires here to
|
|
figure it out.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(OVER HEADSET)
|
|
Copy that, what do you need?
|
|
|
|
James feels around the bomb. It's strapped to the BLACK SUIT
|
|
man with heavy gauge metal.
|
|
|
|
The man is shivering with fear.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
Bolt cutters.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(OVER WALKIE)
|
|
Copy that. I'll get `em.
|
|
116
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(HEADSET)
|
|
You've got two minutes to get them
|
|
and get down here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is already running towards the truck when he hears
|
|
James.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(INTO WALKIE)
|
|
Fuck. Copy that.
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOWNRANGE
|
|
|
|
James presses his pistol harder into the man's forehead.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(TO MAN)
|
|
Don't move.
|
|
|
|
|
|
UPRANGE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn runs to the truck. He roots around looking for the
|
|
bolt cutter. At last he finds it, and comes charging out with
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOWNRANGE
|
|
|
|
The Casio watch is at 4:30.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
|
|
Running hard with the bolt cutters.
|
|
|
|
--Past a crew of soldiers.
|
|
|
|
--Down the road, sprinting now. Rifle flapping.
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOWNRANGE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn skids to a halt, hands James the cutters.
|
|
|
|
James hands his gun to Sanborn, who holds it on the man's
|
|
forehead.
|
|
117
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James sets to work, applying the cutters to the thick metal
|
|
holding the bomb to his chest.
|
|
|
|
The man is crying now.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn sees the Casio. It reads 4:00
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Holy shit. You weren't kidding.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Nope.
|
|
|
|
James works the cutter blade.
|
|
|
|
CU: Bolt Cutter. It SCRAPS futilely against the metal.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(SOTTO)
|
|
What is this made out of?
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT
|
|
Please. Please.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Case hardened steel.
|
|
|
|
James doubles his effort.
|
|
|
|
CU: Bolt Cutter. The blade bites the steel, but it doesn't
|
|
give.
|
|
|
|
James squeezes with all his might.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Motherfucker. What's our time?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn looks at the Casio.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Three minutes.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Shit. Ok. Let me think.
|
|
|
|
He puts the bolt cutter down on the ground.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
We'd need an arc welder to get this
|
|
off properly.
|
|
118
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I don't think we have one of those
|
|
in the truck.
|
|
|
|
CU: Casio Watch 2:30.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Let's try the back of it.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn nods. Keeps the gun on the man's head. His hand is
|
|
starting to shake.
|
|
|
|
James goes behind the man, and rips open the back of his
|
|
shirt, revealing the back of the bomb. Here too it is a
|
|
welded band, but the metal looks thinner. Weaker.
|
|
|
|
James works it with the cutter.
|
|
|
|
CU: Casio Watch 1:30.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
We have to bail.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Go. I got the suit.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn looks at the guy.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
What do you want me to do with the
|
|
pistol?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Take it with you, that's a good
|
|
pistol.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
When do you leave?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
In forty five seconds.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn turns, and begins running uprange.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(shouting to soldiers)
|
|
Get back! Get back!
|
|
|
|
The soldiers turn and run.
|
|
|
|
James tries and tries to clip the metal. It's a no go. He
|
|
comes around to face the man.
|
|
119
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I'm sorry.
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT
|
|
Please, please.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
The metal is too thick.
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT
|
|
Help me. Help me!
|
|
|
|
James drops the bolt cutter, kneels down in front of the man,
|
|
and shakes his head. That's it.
|
|
|
|
The man understands James' gesture. He reaches forward,
|
|
grabbing James' suit.
|
|
|
|
BLACK SUIT
|
|
No! No!
|
|
|
|
James clubs his hand away.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Sorry.
|
|
|
|
CU: Casio Watch: 45 seconds.
|
|
|
|
James gets up and starts running-- lumbers, really, in the
|
|
suit -- as fast as he can towards a retreating Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn hears James' boots thumping towards him and cranes
|
|
his neck to see
|
|
|
|
--James running, arms akimbo
|
|
|
|
--The Black Suit man stands up
|
|
|
|
BOOM!!
|
|
|
|
-- He explodes and the blast spits out fire and dust.
|
|
|
|
--James is nailed with shrapnel and debris, knocked over.
|
|
|
|
--Sanborn is blown to the ground.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES POV
|
|
|
|
--through the helmet a hailstorm of particulate matter flying
|
|
at 22,000 feet per second straight at us --
|
|
120
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
--chunks of molten metal hitting his stomach, stopped by the
|
|
SUIT
|
|
|
|
--bits of shrapnel and body parts thump into him
|
|
|
|
--dust and blood splatters the outside of his helmet
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
--CU his face: White. No movement. Total silence.
|
|
|
|
--blood seeps from his nose
|
|
|
|
--then, as if overcoming great resistance, his heart turns
|
|
over -- Daaaa--duuuunk
|
|
|
|
--sharp, loud inhale of breath. Like birth. The heart kicks
|
|
in again. Da-dunk. Da-dunk.
|
|
|
|
James struggles to stand.
|
|
|
|
He looks uprange.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is staggering towards the soldiers.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT HUMVEE DUSK
|
|
|
|
The Humvee snakes along the desert floor.
|
|
|
|
Traffic thickening.
|
|
|
|
Shadows against a dimming sky.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT HUMVEE
|
|
|
|
Sanborn is in the passenger seat, shivering, and covered in
|
|
grime and dust. James, in the driver's seat.
|
|
|
|
James looks over at Sanborn.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You alright?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No. I hate this place
|
|
|
|
Sanborn stares out the window at the unforgiving landscape.
|
|
121
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
James passes Sanborn some Gatorade.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Have a hit.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn drinks, grateful, and puts the Gatorade down. Then he
|
|
looks at James.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I'm not ready to die, man.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Bro, you're not going to die out
|
|
here.
|
|
|
|
Sanborn shakes his head. Unconsciously, his fingers touch his
|
|
neck, finding the exposed area above the collar of his body
|
|
armor.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Another inch or two difference.
|
|
Shrapnel goes zing (still touching
|
|
his neck). Severs my throat. I
|
|
bleed out in the sand.
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
Fuck. If I die now, nobody will
|
|
even really care. My folks, sure.
|
|
But that don't count. Who else?
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
I don't even have a son.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You got time.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No... I'm done. I want a son, Will.
|
|
I want a son.
|
|
|
|
They drive on in silence. Then Sanborn looks at James, as if
|
|
seeing him for the first time.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Why do you do it? Take the risks?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Hell, I don't know.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
But you know what I'm talking
|
|
about, right? Every time we go out,
|
|
you throw the dice. Live or die,
|
|
you just throw `em down. You
|
|
recognize that, right?
|
|
122
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Beat.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah. (softly) I do. But I don't
|
|
know why. Do you know why I am the
|
|
way I am?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
No, Will, I don't.
|
|
|
|
Silence. Then after a while:
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
This traffic is pissing me off.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Where are we, anyway?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I know where I am but I'm lost.
|
|
|
|
They drive on. Dust off the desert floor blows into the
|
|
WINDSHIELD --
|
|
|
|
TIME CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE SUPERMARKET DAY
|
|
|
|
A big one. Vast, hyper-hygenic, the aisles stretching on,
|
|
loaded with glistening produce. Muzac. A cathedral to
|
|
consumerism.
|
|
|
|
We find James walking through the supermarket, looking like a
|
|
new man. His hair has grown, softening his features. He's
|
|
scrubbed clean, dust free, and dressed in Bermuda shorts and
|
|
a clashing Polo shirt. The All American Dad. A suburban
|
|
softie. Pushing a shopping cart.
|
|
|
|
Welcome home, son, for you are no longer in Baghdad. You're
|
|
in the "big PX" -- America.
|
|
|
|
A beautiful young WOMAN approaches him from the other end of
|
|
the aisle. She too, is pushing a shopping cart, and in it is
|
|
a small BOY. She smiles at James, and says:
|
|
|
|
YOUNG WOMAN
|
|
Honey, you grab the barbecue sauce
|
|
and I'll meet you in aisle four.
|
|
|
|
And CONNIE JAMES smiles again, and pats her husband on the
|
|
shoulder.
|
|
123
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Now James knows he's really home.
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
|
|
Pushes the cart over to the sauce section. Down the squeaky-
|
|
clean aisle.
|
|
|
|
His progress is impeded by an OBESE WOMAN who is mulling over
|
|
cat litter. Her overflowing cart blocks the aisle.
|
|
|
|
James stops. Hands tight on the shopping cart. He looks at
|
|
her hard. She ignores him. Where's the 9mm when you need it?
|
|
|
|
James clears his throat. She sees him. Moves her cart.
|
|
|
|
He continues on, walking through the cavernous space.
|
|
|
|
At last, he's at the sauce section. He is rattled by the
|
|
abundance after the bleakness of Iraq, and the array of
|
|
choices is dizzying.
|
|
|
|
--He reaches for a bottle, then pulls back, unsure.
|
|
|
|
--Giving up, he picks a bottle at random and tosses it into
|
|
the cart.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT KNOXVILLE JAMES HOUSE KITCHEN MORNING SOME DAYS LATER
|
|
|
|
James is washing the vegetables they've just bought at the
|
|
grocery store. Mushrooms bob in a pool of water at the bottom
|
|
of the sink. James tries to clean them individually, but
|
|
can't. They crumble in his hands.
|
|
|
|
CONNIE
|
|
Let's put the chicken on first and
|
|
the vegetables on last, so they
|
|
don't burn?
|
|
|
|
James struggles with the mushrooms. Makes no reply.
|
|
|
|
CONNIE CONT'D
|
|
Will?
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Yeah, okay. (beat) You know,
|
|
they're really short on bomb techs
|
|
over there.
|
|
|
|
Connie knows where this is going, but she fights the
|
|
inevitable.
|
|
124
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
CONNIE
|
|
Well, good thing the army is
|
|
hiring, and they've got so many
|
|
great guys over there.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Uh-huh.
|
|
|
|
James wipes his hands on the dish towel and walks out.
|
|
Looking at his retreating back, she accidentally knocks a
|
|
glass off the counter, and it shatters.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT JAMES HOUSE LATER THAT DAY
|
|
|
|
A few NEIGHBORS have gathered for a barbecue in James'
|
|
backyard. It's a simple, low-key affair. James is tending
|
|
meat on a grill.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT JAMES HOUSE CONTINUOUS
|
|
|
|
The doorbell rings. Connie rushes to open it. It's Sanborn.
|
|
She hugs him.
|
|
|
|
CONNIE
|
|
Thanks for coming. Maybe he'll
|
|
listen to you.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I know how to talk to him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT JAMES HOUSE A LITTLE LATER
|
|
|
|
Behind the barbecue, Sanborn finds a moment to confront James
|
|
privately.
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
What the fuck is the matter with
|
|
you? You got a family, kid, nice
|
|
looking burgers.
|
|
|
|
James studies the grilling meat.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
I know, it's crazy. So how's life
|
|
at home treating you?
|
|
|
|
Sanborn holds up his hand. He's wearing a wedding ring.
|
|
125
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
I made the plunge. (big smile) But
|
|
I thought we were talking about
|
|
you.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
We just did, buddy.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT JAMES' SON'S BEDROOM LATER THAT NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The boy is in a cradle, face up and wide awake. James comes
|
|
in to tuck him in.
|
|
|
|
James pulls a book of fairy tales off the shelf, flips
|
|
through it. Can't read that fluff.
|
|
|
|
He pulls up a chair. Begins to play with a Jack-In-the-Box.
|
|
He winds it up.
|
|
|
|
He opens it for his son. The Jack POPs out.
|
|
|
|
His son squeals with delight, then his eyes go wide with
|
|
fear. He's not sure what to make of the bobbing clown.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
(trying to settle him
|
|
DOWN)
|
|
Well, let's see. I bet you don't
|
|
know the story of these magic
|
|
boxes.
|
|
|
|
James looks at the box. He stuffs the Jack back in and closes
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
The boy looks up at him with a son's pure admiration. Rapt.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Once upon a time, in a distant
|
|
kingdom, there were many magic
|
|
BOXES
|
|
|
|
He stops to think.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Every person had a magic box. But
|
|
you couldn't tell they were magic
|
|
boxes on the outside. Like this
|
|
one.
|
|
|
|
He brings the box close to the child's eyes. The boy is
|
|
dazzled by the colors. He reaches out to touch it.
|
|
126
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
It just looks like a plain old box.
|
|
Then a new king came along and told
|
|
all the people, you have to give me
|
|
all your magic boxes. But the
|
|
people, instead of giving away
|
|
their boxes decided to hide them.
|
|
And they put their boxes in secret
|
|
places all over the kingdom. They
|
|
put them in the roads. They put
|
|
them in cars. They put them in
|
|
buildings. And the King said, (does
|
|
a King's gravelly baritone) "Well,
|
|
how am I going to get my magic
|
|
boxes now?" And one of the King's
|
|
men said, "We have a special Knight
|
|
with special armor, and he can find
|
|
the boxes. And only he.
|
|
|
|
He tries to collect his thoughts.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
And this Knight gathered up all the
|
|
boxes, far and wide. And sometimes -
|
|
- when he wasn't sure if it was a
|
|
magic box -- he opened them.
|
|
|
|
James slowly opens the box, holding the clown in with his
|
|
hand so it doesn't pop. Releasing it slowly.
|
|
|
|
The boy giggles and reaches up.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
And the King said to the Knight,
|
|
you have done a wonderful job. I
|
|
will grant you one wish. What do
|
|
you wish?
|
|
|
|
James thinks, struggles to find an ending.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
But the Knight didn't know what to
|
|
say.
|
|
|
|
James realizes he can't finish the story.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You see, the thing is, son. One day
|
|
you'll understand that when you
|
|
start out like you are now, you
|
|
love everything. You love your
|
|
Mommy and your Daddy. You love your
|
|
bobba. You love your blanket.
|
|
(MORE)
|
|
127
|
|
|
|
JAMES (CONT'D)
|
|
You even love your little crib, and
|
|
these dumb toys. But as you get
|
|
older some of the things you love
|
|
don't seem special anymore. That
|
|
bobba is one day just going to look
|
|
like an ordinary plastic bottle to
|
|
you. And the older you get, the
|
|
more this happens and the fewer
|
|
things you love. And by the time
|
|
you get to be my age, sometimes you
|
|
only love one -- or two -- things.
|
|
|
|
James pauses.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
With me, I think's it's one.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT KNOXVILLE BUS STOP DAWN
|
|
|
|
James waits for the bus. Wearing his camo. He's alone. His
|
|
hair is shaved again.
|
|
|
|
The far off city BUS grinds its gears. James turns toward
|
|
the sound when a Chevy PICKUP pulls ahead of the bus, and
|
|
zooms to a stop in front of him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT PICKUP
|
|
|
|
Sanborn opens the passenger window.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BUS STOP
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
You lost again, Sergeant?
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
Get in, before I change my mind.
|
|
|
|
They drive away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT PICKUP
|
|
|
|
SANBORN
|
|
(SMILING)
|
|
Couldn't risk letting you on a
|
|
public bus. Probably shoot the damn
|
|
driver if it wasn't moving fast
|
|
enough.
|
|
128
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT AIRPLANE
|
|
|
|
A stewardess passing out glasses of water and packages of
|
|
peanuts approaches James' aisle.
|
|
|
|
STEWARDESS
|
|
Here you are, Sir (noticing James'
|
|
uniform) Thank you for your
|
|
service.
|
|
|
|
JAMES
|
|
Your welcome, m'am.
|
|
|
|
The stewardess smiles lovingly, and waits for an opening to
|
|
continue the conversation. When none comes, she moves on.
|
|
|
|
James turns to the window. In his hand he holds a photo of
|
|
his son.
|
|
|
|
Tears well up.
|
|
|
|
The plane's ENGINE WHINE swells and merges with--
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT BAGHDAD DAY
|
|
|
|
--SONIC OVERLOAD:
|
|
|
|
Angry drivers SHOUT in Arabic - car HORNS blare - loudspeaker
|
|
CALL to prayer - Humvee RUMBLE - incoming CHOPPER WASH - RAT-
|
|
TAT-TAT of distant gunfire --
|
|
|
|
As James' feet hit the tarmac.
|
|
|
|
A SOLDIER is waiting for him, with a smile on his face.
|
|
|
|
SOLDIER
|
|
Welcome to Delta-Company.
|
|
|
|
A Middle-Eastern sun bathes James' upturned face lengthening
|
|
into a smile.
|
|
|
|
His pace slows...the tarmac transitions to dirt as little
|
|
puffs of dust lift off his continuous passage. He is now in
|
|
the bomb suit and we are --
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. BAGHDAD OUTSKIRTS DAY
|
|
|
|
-- in the desert.
|
|
129
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The small CLUSTER of SOLDIERS at the side of the road parts
|
|
to make way for James.
|
|
|
|
Hands pat his back as he begins the long walk down the street
|
|
-- toward the bomb.
|
|
|
|
All SOUND telescopes down to just James' BREATHING...
|
|
|
|
--the view through James' eyes: the outside world of soldiers
|
|
and Baghdad seems to pulsate with excitement --
|
|
|
|
-- James' face. As the SOUNDS of his breathing grow louder
|
|
|
|
-- The noon day sun beats brilliantly onto a car's
|
|
windshield, the glass shimmering.
|
|
|
|
|
|
TITLE OVER:
|
|
|
|
DAYS LEFT IN DELTA COMPANY'S ROTATION: 365
|
|
|
|
-- James moves into the path of that reflected sunlight.
|
|
|
|
-- And vanishes into the glare.
|
|
|
|
|
|
END
|