Suspect Zero
Written by
Zak Penn
Revisions - Billy Ray
November 30, 2001
Director's Shooting Script
FADE IN:
...on a BLACK WAVE - vast, oceanic, and coming right at us.
BEGIN TITLES.
The wave is relentless, huge, menacing. We can't tell if this
is daytime or night because it simply obscures everything -
noisily. It sucks, it yawns, it roars.
Then we realize... this massive wave of darkness is actually
just a RUN-OFF of dirty black WATER alongside the edge of an
Interstate. We PULL OUT OF IT now...
...to find concrete, and garbage, and weeds. END TITLES.
1 EXT. DITCH - OFF THE INTERSTATE - 4:30 A.M. 1
Amongst the refuse is a discarded MILK CARTON, resting on its
back. The carton asks "Have You Seen Me?" above a photographed
face that's been obscured by grime.
Yellowing newspaper, old Coke cans, Twinkie wrappers... in
that bed of untended weeds. A hollow Texas wind blows through
it all. We stay with the carton...
Then that hollow wind gains speed... and a deep RUMBLE grows
in the distance, becoming a ROAR. The yellowed newspaper lifts
off and whips past us.
...as an 18-WHEEL MACK TRUCK blows by, just a blur in the
corner of our frame, doing 75 in the pre-dawn darkness.
Then, the truck is gone, and the rush of air dissipates. The
milk carton, the coke cans... they lie undisturbed.
A LIGHT RAIN begins to fall... and some of the grime washes
away from that milk carton, revealing a face. A child. "Have
You Seen Me?" It's heartbreaking.
TILT UP... to take in the vast flatness of Texas' I-35:
concrete forever. In the distance, gray highway yields to
black STORMCLOUDS gathering silently over endless prairie.
A vertical vein of LIGHTNING streaks through one of them.
CUT TO:
...a spoon, stirring a cup of coffee.
2 INT. "THE ALL-AMERICAN DINER" - GAINESVILLE TEXAS - CONTINUING 2
(4:30 A.M.)
HAROLD SPECK sits: mid 40's, pleasant face. A family man.
Reads "Rod and Reel" magazine. Has a SALESMAN'S CASE by his
side. Around him is a TRUCK-STOP in twilight:
Truckers at the counter, Elvis on the wall, a "Drink Bud!"
mirror. The WORLD SERIES can be heard on a RADIO...
DOLLY (O.S.)
Top that off for ya, Hon?
That's DOLLY, a waitress, (50, been here too long.) Speck
looks up, smiles thinly, "No." Dolly heads off. Speck returns
to his article, underlining a particular passage.
...until a MAN seats himself, suddenly, in the seat opposite
Speck's. Speck reacts, startled.
SPECK
Jesus...
The MAN's name is O'RYAN. We only see PIECES of him: his eyes,
his hands, a stain on his parka...
O'RYAN
What's in the case?
SPECK
I'm sorry?
O'RYAN
You're always lugging that case around.
I'm curious.
Speck looks around: there are plenty of empty tables in here.
So why is this guy bothering me???
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
What do you sell?
SPECK
I'm... in restaurant supplies. I didn't
get your name?
O'RYAN
Must travel a lot, huh?
Speck is looking for Dolly, a Manager, anyone...
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Whole country, or just hereabouts?
SPECK
I don't mean to be rude but--
O'RYAN
How's your wife feel about it?
That spun things a bit. Speck pauses.
SPECK
What?
O'RYAN
She must get lonely, with you gone all
the time. Does she?
SPECK
Look, I...
O'RYAN
Do you get lonely?
Speck's so thrown now he can't answer.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Ya miss fucking her, Harold?
SPECK
Listen, I don't know who you are but you
can't--
O'Ryan silences him... by holding up a piece of paper. On it
is a DRAWING. The image faces away from us. But Speck can see
it in rich detail. And his eyes go wide.
We catch GLIMPSES: The color of flesh. A body-part. Looks like
a rendering of a young, naked WOMAN.
And, just like that, Speck finds himself STARING. Glued.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Did it myself. It's sort of a hobby.
(no reply)
I've got more. Would you like to see
them?
O'Ryan lowers it and slides a SECOND DRAWING over... Speck is
speechless, transfixed. Can't look away.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Tell me: those jokes about the traveling
salesman and the farmer's daughter - are
they true?
(Speck remains silent)
Here. This one's my favorite.
O'Ryan slides over DRAWING #3. Again, we don't get to see it.
And we still haven't seen all of O'Ryan's face.
But we can see Speck, and his reaction. Utter horror. In fact
he recoils so violently that his coffee spills.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Really says it all, wouldn't you agree?
SPECK
You're a... You're sick.
O'RYAN
That's a matter of opinion.
SPECK
You're sick!
He rises, leaving the drawings behind. We STAY WITH HIM as he
crosses the diner - deeply unsettled. He reaches the Manager,
(MEL, balding, 50, in no mood) at the register.
MEL
Mmm-hmm?
SPECK
I'm having a problem - with another
customer. I'd like you to ask him to
leave, please.
MEL
What kind of problem?
SPECK
He's--
He turns, to point out O'Ryan.
...but the booth, suddenly, is empty. The guy has simply
disappeared, taking those drawings with him.
Speck tightens. Mel eyes him, annoyed.
CUT TO:
3 EXT. ALL-AMERICAN DINER - PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER 3
Speck hurries out to his Buick, checking over his shoulder
repeatedly. Gets to the car, fumbles with his keys. They fall
to the asphalt. He grabs them, opens the door.
CUT TO:
4 INT. SPECK'S CAR - DRIVING - MOMENTS LATER 4
Speck guns the Buick. Interstate 35 flies by. The farther he
gets away from that Diner, the happier he'll be.
...until a strange SOUND gets his attention: it's WIND, as if
whistling through a ghost town. Hollow, varied - building then
falling off again. Wind.
Trouble is, the windows in this Buick are up.
Yet there it is again: a thin, hollow GHOST-TOWN WIND,
whistling over his shoulder. He's heard it before - in every
Western he ever watched as a kid.
But this wind is coming from his back-seat.
The blood drains right out of Speck's face. Doesn't know if he
should jam on the brakes or drive faster.
He looks in his rear-view, catches a glimpse of a LATEX GLOVE
snapping onto a hand. Dear God: O'Ryan is back there, making
that odd Ghost-Town wind sound. Whistling.
SPECK
(sheer terror)
What-do-you-want?! What-do-you-want-with-
me?!
No reply. Instead, another gift appears from the back: a
FOURTH DRAWING, tossed from the darkness into Speck's lap.
He looks down, registers the image... and SHRIEKS.
O'RYAN (O.S.)
There's a rest stop, next off-ramp. Pull
into it.
SPECK
I have some money. It's not a lot but--
O'RYAN
Nobody wants your money, Harold. Just
pull in.
SPECK
Why?!
O'Ryan rises into frame now, like Nosferatu...
O'RYAN
Because I don't wanna do this at 70 miles
an hour. It could be dangerous.
Speck finds the off-ramp. His breaths are shallow now.
SPECK
Please, Mister - what do you want from
me?
O'Ryan's face: a knowing grin fans across it...
CUT TO:
...the face of VIRGIL RAY STARKEY, on a bulletin board.
5 INT. F.B.I. RESIDENT AGENCY - WICHITA FALLS - MORNING (SAME 5
DAY)
We're looking at the F.B.I.'s "Ten Most-Wanted List." Starkey
is #7 on it. He's 40, white. His crime are listed as rape,
murder, kidnapping.
THOMAS MACKELWAY stares at Starkey's image. At the eyes...
Mackelway is 34, bred for success - bred for stardom in fact,
a whiz at everything he's ever attempted.
So what the hell is he doing in Wichita Falls, Texas...?
EIGHT AGENTS, in cubicles, with a ring of outer offices. Quiet
phones, lousy take-out options, hardly a dream gig.
CHARLTON (O.S.)
Got a spot set up for you, Tom.
That's RICK CHARLTON: late 40's, thinning hair, friendly.
Charlton heads around a corner. Mackelway follows.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
Ms. Potter's the nice girl you met at the
desk. She puts a package together for all
the new agents, things to know about the
area, help with finding apartments and
such. This one's yours:
Charlton stops at a CUBICLE: Carpeted walls, formica desk. A
corner of dull Hell. Mackelway eyes it, fighting dread.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
Not so different from Dallas, is it?
MACKELWAY
(fuck yes)
No, Sir.
CHARLTON
Good.
An abandoned SPORTS PAGE tells us about that World Series, so
we must be mid-October. Charlton heads out. Mackelway throws a
briefcase on to the desk, setting up his world:
A framed picture of himself and his BROTHER, ages 10 and 15,
on a childhood camping trip. Address book, coffee-warmer,
calendar, a baseball covered with autographs.
He opens up a drawer, and casually tosses two bottles of
BUFFERIN into the back of it.
...but first grabs four tablets from one of the bottles,
and throws them down his throat, as:
GRIEVES (O.S.)
Ya like Frito Pies?
Mackelway turns. BILL GRIEVES stands here, holding a white
grease-stained paper-bag. Grieves is Mackelway's age, not
quite as ambitious. But solid, decent.
MACKELWAY
I dunno. What are they?
Grieves pulls out a greasy concoction that's wrapped up like a
semi-burrito. Pure Texas. Tosses it to Mackelway:
GRIEVES
Welcome to the minors.
Grieves passes by with a faint smile, handing out lunch to a
few other agents. Mackelway eyes the still-wrapped Frito Pie.
God, get me outta here...
CUT TO:
6 INT. WICHITA FALLS F.B.I. OFFICE - LATER 6
A BRIEF MONTAGE: Mackelway, in his cubicle, watching as THOSE
OTHER AGENTS take calls, strap on guns, head out on
assignment. Men in motion.
But Mackelway's land-locked, writing up an Auto-Theft report.
It's drudgery, but he's meticulous about it, deleting the word
"beige" and replacing it with "tan."
His head is throbbing - not an unusual circumstance for him.
But after lingering for a half-second on that "Most-Wanted
List" again? Starkey? It's a wound...
7 INT. F.B.I. OFFICE - KITCHENETTE - MOMENTS LATER 7
Mackelway struggles with a COFFEE MACHINE that's unfamiliar to
him. Filter, water, grounds, etc.
KATIE (O.S.)
Here. Lemme do that.
He turns. This is KATIE POTTER. She's 25, friendly, under-
challenged by her job. Been here two years. In two seconds
she's got the thing percolating. Of course.
KATIE (CONT'D)
It takes some experience.
He shrugs, not feeling too smooth.
KATIE (CONT'D)
You're Mackelway, right?
MACKELWAY
Mmm-hmm.
KATIE
Fax came in for you. It's the room next
door.
MACKELWAY
Oh. Thanks.
He rises, heads for the "fax room"...
8 INT. "FAX ROOM" - CONTINUING 8
A former closet, converted into useful space. FIVE FAX
MACHINES sit on stands, sharing a surge protector. One fax
machine is printing. Mackelway approaches it.
Six pieces of paper await him. The first is a TOP-SHEET,
written by hand: "Attention: Agent Thomas Mackelway, FBI
Resident Agency - Wichita Falls." No sender named.
He looks beneath the top sheet - at Page One of the fax.
A young BOY stares back at him, his face photostatically
copied. Across the top, also-handwritten: "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?"
At the bottom of the sheet, typed, we read:
"Jason Corey, Age 14. Ht. 5'1", Wt. 130, Eyes Brn, Hair Brn.
Last Seen: Riverside, Ca. Date of Disappearance: 10-16-99."
Mackelway eyes the face, then the vitals. No idea why this was
sent to him. Then he looks at Page Two.
A young WOMAN stares back at him this time. Another faxed
photo. Another "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?" scrawled across the top of
it. And, at the bottom of the sheet:
"Anna Casitas, Age 22. Ht. 5'6", Wt. 125, Eyes Brn, Hair Blk.
Last Seen: Macon, Ga. Date of Disappearance: 5-6-00."
The other three faxes are more of the same: Pictures and
vitals. Faces. Facts. "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?"
He looks at the bottom of the transmissions, finds the fax
number of the sender. Dials it. All he hears back is the loud
grainy shriek of a dedicated fax line.
He eyes the faxes again. It's not alarming, but it's odd. Then
Charlton emerges from his office, shouting:
CHARLTON
Mackelway! You gonna sit on your ass all
day, or do you wanna do something?
Mackelway's out of this room in an instant.
CUT TO:
9 EXT. REST STOP - OFF THE INTERSTATE - DAY 9
Your standard roadside rest-stop: a parking lot with weeds
poking through it and bathrooms you wouldn't go near. Those
STORMCLOUDS we saw earlier are CLOSER now...
POLICE CARS and HIGHWAY PATROL MOTORCYCLES fill this site.
Charlton's FBI SEDAN pulls up. He and Mackelway get out.
Two men approach: SHERIFF HARRY DYLAN, 50; and his deputy, BUD
GRANGER, a gangly, baby-faced pup.
DYLAN
Afternoon, Rick.
(Charlton nods)
Looks like a robbery/homicide. Body's
over that way.
He gestures toward a ravine, where a TOW TRUCK is currently
lowering a winch toward an abandoned vehicle.
It is Harold Speck's Buick, nose-down in the ravine, teetering
on a rock, like the balanced scales of justice.
MACKELWAY
Ya run the plates?
Charlton eyes Mackelway: "Easy, Hot-shot." Mackelway nods,
reminding himself to remember his new rank. Dylan hands a
preliminary report to Charlton.
DYLAN
Fella's name is Harold Speck. Traveling
salesman, from Abilene.
Charlton eyes the report, then hands it to Mackelway. The
hierarchy is being made clear. Very.
Mackelway turns: this ravine runs right up against a SIGN that
reads "Welcome to Texas" on one side and "You are now leaving
Oklahoma" on the other.
A vehicle, left right on the state-line. Odd...
Then, a NOISE: that Tow-Truck WINCH, grinding badly. It's just
about to yank the Buick out of this ditch.
MACKELWAY
(it blurts out)
Hey!
Before Charlton can react, Mackelway is running across this
weed-choked lot, zeroing in on the TOW-TRUCK DRIVER.
10 EXT. ATOP THE RAVINE - CONTINUING 10
The Driver, JUMBO, is operating the winch from a hydraulic
handle on the back of the truck. Mackelway barrels in:
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
What the fuck're you doing?!
JUMBO
What's it look like, Bud?
Mackelway reaches past Jumbo and hits the "Stop" button
himself. The winch shuts down. Mackelway turns. A handful of
LOCAL COPS stand atop this ravine, watching.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
You guys ever heard of evidentiary
procedure?
No one replies. Charlton approaches. Mackelway tightens,
expecting a reprimand for overstepping his bounds.
MACKWELWAY (CONT'D)
Sorry, Sir. There wasn't time.
Charlton eyes the car. Then Mackelway.
CHARLTON
Did the right thing, Agent Mackelway.
Let's have a look.
Charlton starts down the embankment. Mackelway doesn't,
hanging back as he eyes the TRACKS this Buick made before
tumbling. Something about them...
He pulls a small CAMERA from his pocket, a Minox. Snaps off a
few photos of the scene - the Buick, the ravine, those tracks,
some FOOTPRINTS alongside them.
Then he heads down the 15-foot embankment.
11 EXT. RAVINE - CONTINUING 11
It's an ugly sight. Speck is inches from us, but his head is
facing in the other direction, twisted unnaturally.
Mackelway kneels beside the open window, pulls out some
gloves, puts them on. He will not lean on the car, or even
breathe on it, his caution around evidence obvious.
CHARLTON (O.S.)
What's that?
Charlton is opposite him, outside the passenger-side window,
pointing at the DRAWING that O'Ryan had tossed onto Speck's
lap. It lies face down on the seat.
But something's been FINGER-PAINTED on the back of it: A
RED CIRCLE, with a SLASH through it.
Charlton begins to reach for it, when:
MACKELWAY
(to stop him)
Sir?
Charlton stops. Mackelway indicates: "Gloves."
Charlton eyes him. It's irritating being corrected by a guy
you outrank, especially when he's right.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Sort of a... stickler for procedure.
CHARLTON
I imagine you would be.
That was a jab, but we don't know it yet. Charlton puts on his
gloves. Mackelway snaps off a few more shots with that Minox,
looking over the rest of this car, as:
GRANGER
(aloud)
Hey Jumbo. Toss me down a crowbar.
Granger's by the trunk. Before Mackelway can comment, Jumbo
has tossed a CROWBAR down from the top of the embankment: a
ten-pound hunk of iron, flying right at us.
Everybody ducks... as it CLANGS on the roof of the Buick.
Jumbo shrugs.
JUMBO
You said toss it.
Mackelway shakes his head. "Shitkicker." Granger grabs the
crowbar. He's just about to open the trunk as:
MACKELWAY
Hold it a second.
Granger pauses. Mackelway crosses to the trunk, and snaps off
a few shots with the Minox.
Something catches his eye, along the line of the TRUNK. He
kneels closer... An odd RESIDUE, crusty and hard, has formed a
thin line on top of the paint in a single post.
He takes out a VIAL, and scrapes some of the residue into it.
Then he sniffs it. Pauses...
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Smells like... clove.
He looks to Granger: now you can open the trunk.
DYLAN
(re: Mackelway)
Where the hell'd you find this guy?
CHARLTON
Field Office. Dallas.
DYLAN
(impressed)
Well now...
(Charlton shrugs)
So what the hell's he doin' here?
That one is left unanswered. Granger opens the trunk.
Mackelway and the others look inside...
There, they find restaurant supplies: napkin dispensers, salt-
shakers, ketchup dispensers, a short-order wheel... And a
fishing reel, tackle-box, a kid's bicycle helmet.
Mackelway eyes it all, but his instincts tell him there's
nothing significant here. So he returns to Speck's body.
He leans in, lifts Speck's head a few inches away from the
steering wheel. Gently.
...which is when we learn that Speck's EYELIDS have been torn
off. It's gruesome, but Mackelway notes it calmly. Charlton
leans in, gets a look.
CHARLTON
Christ...
Mackelway is expressionless. But something about these LIDLESS
EYES draws him closer. He leans in, then BAM! We are rocketed
into a series of dark, disjointed images:
12 EXT. A WHEAT FIELD - NIGHT 12
Seems like we're standing in a field of TALL WHEAT; we can't
say for sure. Everything's wet, wind-whipped.
A MUZZLE FLASH... Someone just fired a gun. We slump hard to
the ground. Then we look up.
Mackelway stands over us, his face wet with rain. Then, just
as quickly, those IMAGES VANISH and we are:
13 INT. UNIDENTIFIED MOTEL ROOM - GRAHAM TEXAS - DAY 13
We start on the EYES OF O'RYAN. Cross-Dissolve to a pad of
paper, on a DESK. Scrawled on the pad is a WAVY LINE. He holds
the tip of that pen upon it, for a few seconds, as if
expecting to get some kind of pulse from it.
Here come those IMAGES again: wet wheat, a muzzle flash,
Mackelway. Choppy, disjointed, dark. Then they cease...
...and O'Ryan begins to DRAW, hurriedly. Only half of his face
is visible to us, but we can tell that his concentration is
total.
His pen continues its furious work, a spasm of activity, as
the SOUNDS of that vision bleed in: the gun-shot, the rain,
the wind. They're all alive in O'Ryan's mind...
And that DRAWING takes shape quickly: The wheat field, the
gun, Mackelway.
Then, the pen is set down. The drawing is complete.
O'Ryan eyes it calmly, then checks his watch, jotting down the
exact time and date on to the drawing. Then he slips it into a
folder marked, "MACKELWAY."
CUT TO:
14 EXT. SPECK'S HOME - ABILENE, TEXAS - ESTAB. DAY 14
Picket fence, a swing on the porch, a lawn that needs mowing.
A LINE OF PEOPLE file in, each bringing food... and tissues to
cry into.
15 INT. SPECK'S HOME - LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER (DAY) 15
Shocked faces. Food on unmatching trays. Speck's wife - JAN,
40 and frayed - sits in a chair, immobile. FRIENDS and FAMILY
mill about, tending to her.
KIDS hover. Two of them, a 4-YEAR-OLD BOY and an 8-YEAR-OLD
GIRL, sniff back tears as people offer condolences.
But the focus here is Jan - her grief. She's shaking...
O'RYAN (O.S.)
Mrs. Speck?
She looks up. O'Ryan crouches down, to eye-level, one of fifty
faces in here. Jan half-nods.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Just wanted to offer my condolences.
(takes her hand)
I didn't know him well but... I think
Harold was a much more complex man than
people realized.
Jan is so raw that anything about Speck touches her now.
JAN
(through tears)
He was, wasn't he?
O'RYAN
I'm very sorry for your loss, ma'am.
She sniffs back a tear, thanks him with a smile. O'Ryan
extends his hand to her. She takes it. He moves off.
Beside her is a FRAMED PORTRAIT of Speck. We blow past it, and
into the BLACK CREPE that is adorning the corner of the
portrait's FRAME, and:
BAM! We're rocketed back into a set of odd IMAGES again:
16 EXT. DARKNESS - UNIDENTIFIED TIME 16
This time, everything before us is a blur of gray. We hear
that wet wind. We hear our own heavy BREATHING, as if we were
running somewhere... a VOICE, rising above the wind, seems to
be saying:
(O.S.)
Please...
The sound echoes oddly, as if bouncing off a satellite
somewhere, or a distance of time and space.
Then the sound and the soupy grayness VANISH. This vision just
ended. When we pop back out of it, we're TIGHT on Mackelway...
CUT TO:
17 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - PARKING LOT - GAINESVILLE 10:30 P.M. 17
Mackelway sits behind the wheel of his Chevy Yukon, parked
between two big-rigs in the lot of the "All-American Diner."
Sky looks black tonight. It rumbles...
And that soupy gray vision we just heard and saw... It was all
his.
He pulls four more Bufferins out of a bottle in his pocket.
Slugs them down. This headache is a constant. Then he gets out
of the Yukon...
18 INT. ALL-AMERICAN DINER GAINESVILLE - CONTINUING 18
Mackelway enters, spots Charlton at a booth - sitting opposite
a WOMAN, her back to us.
19 INT. BOOTH - CONTINUING 19
Mackelway approaches. The Woman doesn't turn.
CHARLTON
Agent Mackelway. I was 'bout to introduce
you, but I understand that won't be
necessary.
Mackelway doesn't get it... until the WOMAN turns. She is
AGENT FRAN KULOK. 35, sharp, pretty when she allows herself to
be. But with a guard that never comes down.
Mackelway has some history with her, so he tries not to react.
It takes some effort.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
Seems your former office has decided we
might need some help on this one. So they
sent out Agent Kulok.
FRAN
Tom.
MACKELWAY
Fran.
That was terse, from both of them. Charlton takes note.
CHARLTON
I guess we're skipping the tearful
reunion. Have a seat, Tom.
Mackelway sits opposite Fran. She folds her hands.
MACKELWAY
How's things back at the ranch?
FRAN
Movin' right along.
That might've been a dig; Charlton can't tell.
CHARLTON
Okay. Whadda we know?
FRAN
Picked up a foot-print in the back seat
of Speck's car, size-and-a-half bigger
than Speck's.
Just like that, Fran is piping up. Mackelway's unoffended.
CHARLTON
'Kay.
FRAN
Wounds on Speck's throat indicate that he
was strangled from behind... I think our
guy waited for him in the backseat,
sprung this on him once the car was
moving.
She slides that FOURTH DRAWING to Charlton - giving us our
first look at it.
INSERT - THE DRAWING:
...a STEAMER-TRUNK, lined with plastic. Inside it are large
ZIPLOC BAGS. Inside the bags are BODY PARTS.
It's realized so accurately that it looks more like a
photograph. No wonder it horrified Speck so deeply.
THE BOOTH - RESUMING
Charlton eyes it without reaction.
FRAN (CONT'D)
Lab picked up talcum traces on the edges
of the paper, consistent with powdered
gloves.
(Charlton nods)
So he gets the dropped in his lap, it
spooks him, and the car winds up in the
ravine.
Plausible enough, until:
MACKELWAY
I don't think so, no. I think it was
pushed.
FRAN
How ya figure?
MACKELWAY
The look of the tracks. Foot-prints near
the embankment.
Without embellishing any further, he slides over the
PHOTOGRAPHS that he took this morning with the Minox: tire-
tracks, foot-prints. She eyes them.
Then she eyes Mackelway. Charlton notes the tension.
CHARLTON
Okay. So our guy likes to draw pictures
of body parts and then spring 'em on
people. What's that get us?
(they're silent)
That's what I thought.
There is plenty going unsaid here between Mackelway and Fran.
Charlton has no time for it.
CHARLTON
Oh. 'Fore I forget. This came in for you:
He tosses a 9-by-12 ENVELOPE at Mackelway, who opens it. Six
sheets of paper slide out.
First one we see is the TOP SHEET of a FAX: same hand-written
inscription as the last one: "Attention, Agent Thomas
Mackelway, FBI Resident Agency, Wichita Falls."
Okay. This is twice now. He knows what will be under this top
sheet without even looking. But here's Page One:
A photo of a middle-aged African-American WOMAN. Across the
top of the photo, in hand-writing: "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?"
And typed on the bottom: "Tanya Green. Age 42. Ht. 5'9", Wt.
165, Eyes Blk, Hair Blk. Last Seen: Ames, Iowa. Date of
Disappearance: 3-22-97."
The following four sheets bring four more faces: men, women,
young, old. Four more HAVE YOU SEEN ME's.
But before he can think it through, he hears:
MANAGER (O.S.)
It's about time.
They turn. That came from the NIGHT MANAGER: a humorless guy
named LES. He's looking at the front door, through which Dolly
has just entered. Pink cowboy boots tonight.
DOLLY
Don't start in on me, Les. I couldn't get
the pickup started and Harlan took the
Dodge.
The Manager now throws a glance at the three feds in the
booth. Dolly stops short, taken aback.
DOLLY (CONT'D)
Holy Hell. My one shot at winding up on
"Cops" and I'm in my weekday boots!
CUT TO:
20 INT. DINER - BOOTH - LATER 20
Dolly and Mel sit opposite Mackelway and Fran.
DOLLY
He was a quiet guy. Normal. Liked to read
fishing magazines. Not much of a tipper.
Is that a lousy thing to say?
FRAN
It's fine.
Mel rolls his eyes.
MACKELWAY
What can you tell us about the other man?
MEL
Like I said, I never really saw him.
Harold came up, complainin' about the guy
- but time I turned, he was gone.
FRANMACK
(at Dolly:) (at Dolly:)
Could you de--Did you get a--
They each stop short, waiting for the other to yield. Finally
Mackelway nods, "Go ahead."
FRAN
Can you describe him, Ma'am?
DOLLY
Sure. He was...
Dolly pauses, her face scrunching a bit. Troubled...
DOLLY (CONT'D)
That's weird. Guy was in here better part
of an hour. We had a real pleasant
chat... But I can't remember a thing
about him. For the life of me. Couldn't
even tell you what color his eyes were.
She shrugs apologetically.
FRAN
Happen to see what he was driving?
DOLLY
That one's easy. It's still in the lot.
(they perk up)
The Bonneville out there with the awful
paint job.
She gestures to the lot, where an old PONTIAC BONNEVILLE sits,
its paint stripped down to the primer. Bingo.
Fran and Mackelway eye it, then one another.
CUT TO:
21 EXT. DINER - PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER 21
Fran and Mackelway emerge, heading for the Bonneville.
MACKELWAY
We ought to work out some kind of
protocol.
FRAN
For what?
MACKELWAY
Interviews. Witnesses. Looks pretty
silly, our talking over one another.
FRAN
Fine. I'll handle them from now on.
He doesn't argue. They come to a stop at that Bonneville,
stripped down to its primer. Time to work...
Two agents, all instinct. We see them study things, details,
their minds always churning... Mackelway pulls out his Minox,
snaps off a few more shots. Then:
MACKELWAY
Trunk's ajar.
She turns. Sure enough, the Bonneville's trunk is ajar.
Mackelway approaches, cautiously.
He doesn't have gloves on him, so he uses his jacket pocket to
protect against prints. He opens the trunk.
First thing he sees is that SYMBOL again: a circle-with-a-
slash-through-it... staring right at him.
But this time, it's been carved into somebody's back.
Mackelway stares. So does Fran. Before them lies a body,
stripped to the waist: a chunky middle-aged MAN. Dead.
Mackelway sighs. Things just got tougher...
CUT TO:
22 INT. ARCHER COUNTY MORGUE - DAY 22
Harold Speck lies on a table. A BESPECTACLED CORONER examines
him. Victim #2, BARNEY FULCHER, lies on another, his ample
frame yet to be examined.
The lights are out, but that Coroner wears a FLUORESCENT HALO,
with a MICROPHONE pinned to his gown. He speaks into it with a
quiet monotone: anatomical terms, etc.
Mackelway and Fran are here... watching. Mackelway is
particularly focused on Fulcher's face. His EYELIDS, we now
see, have also been torn off. Hmmmm...
FRAN
Why eyelids?
MACKELWAY
Huh?
FRAN
No other signs of torture here. Why take
somebody's eyelids off?
MACKELWAY
So they can't blink.
She sighs, aloud: "I know that already, Asshole." Coroner
keeps his head down, speaking into that microphone.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
It's a metaphor - to make certain the
victim sees... or to make certain that we
see something.
(she's silent)
Or maybe it's just a fuck-you.
Coroner continues his monotone narration... then crosses to
the sink.
That puts him out of earshot. So:
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
(to Fran, quietly)
I'm sorry about Don.
FRAN
(thrown)
Huh?
MACKELWAY
You're not wearing your ring anymore.
That was an attempt at kindness. She knows that. Still, she
eyes her left hand, self-consciously, while Mackelway loses
himself in those lidless eyes of Fulcher's...
Then there's a KNOCK AT THE GLASS WINDOW BEHIND THEM.
They turn. Charlton stands on the other side of a GLASS
WINDOW, in a VIEWING ROOM adjacent to this Morgue. He presses
a piece of paper up against the glass.
On it, in typed bold letters at the top, we read: "MATCHES
ONE OF ONE." Below that we see that Circle-with-the-slash-
through-it.
This is a FAX, which Charlton's just received. He points
further down on the fax at what look like little squiggles at
first, until we move in to discover it is a hand drawn street
map.
The ink bleeds a bit due to a poor fax transmission. Those
scrawled lines take us to "The Hope House," in Oklahoma City.
At the bottom a scribbled name, "David Dyson," and a contact
number.
Moving closer to the glass, Mackelway nods. He just got a
break...
CUT TO:
23 INT. GRAMMAR-SCHOOL AUDITORIUM - BOULDER, CO. - DAY 23
A CHOIR of FIRST AND SECOND GRADERS stands before a school
assembly. The rest of Boulder Elementary's student body fills
the seats in here, along with FACULTY MEMBERS.
Everybody's weeping. A framed picture of Barney Fulcher sits
on a stand, with candles around it:
SINGING FIRST AND SECOND GRADERS
A-may-zing Grace, How sweet the sound--
In the back, some of the TOWNSFOLK have gathered for this
assembly, touched. O'Ryan stands among them. No expression on
his face at all...
CUT TO:
24 EXT. "HOPE HOUSE" - OKLAHOMA CITY - NIGHT 24
A three-story Victorian residence in decay, next door to a
CHURCH/SOUP KITCHEN in the middle of Oklahoma City's Skid Row.
Rain falls. The street is still.
Mackelway approaches this halfway-house. A few lights shine
within, and the blue glow of a tv. Upstairs can be heard the
strident, off-key voice of somebody singing.
25 EXT./INT. HOPE HOUSE - DOORWAY - CONTINUING 25
The front door is open. Through a SCREEN DOOR, Mackelway can
see an old-fashioned "foyer." He knocks. Waits.
Two sounds dominate: the buzz from that tv, and the strident
singing, which we realize is an a capela version of "La Vida
Loca" audible through an open bedroom window.
But no one's coming to answer the door, and it's wide open
anyway... So Mackelway enters.
MACKELWAY
Hello?
26 INT. HOPE HOUSE - ENTRY - CONTINUING 26
TV room is to his left. There, a single 35 year-old DRUNK/
TRANSIENT (we'll call him "PIPER") sits, watching "Behind the
Music" on VH1. Tonight's subject? Leif Garret...
Piper doesn't look up, or acknowledge Mackelway at all. Rather
he INCREASES THE TV VOLUME to drown out the singing upstairs,
which seems to be intentionally off-key.
Torn couches, stained carpet, cracked window. Posters and
fliers on the walls. 10 BEDROOMS upstairs.
DYSON (O.S.)
Agent Mackelway?
Mackelway turns. Descending a creaking stairway is DAVID
DYSON: 50, lean, with a friendly smile.
CUT TO:
27 INT. HOPE HOUSE - BASEMENT - MOMENTS LATER 27
We are staring at a BASEMENT WALL that has been covered, floor
to ceiling, with 1,000 identical renderings of that same
symbol: the CIRCLE-WITH-A-SLASH-THROUGH-IT.
1,000 of them, in bright red paint, against pitch black
enamel. Only a machine could have achieved this kind of
repetition. Or a maniac.
This basement is leaky, drafty, poorly lit. But it's also
quiet: the sound of that awful singing upstairs has been MUTED
by the basement door and the rain itself.
DYSON
Benjamin spent hours down here.
Mackelway takes it all in, every corner of this basement. He
notes a row of standing GYM LOCKERS.
MACKELWAY
(re: lockers)
Did he have access to those?
DYSON
No. They're staff-only.
MACKELWAY
Would you mind opening them for me?
Dyson shrugs; he thinks it's a waste of time - but he'll do
it. Mackelway follows him across the dank room.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
He was here... seven years you said?
DYSON
Off and on. It's not uncommon for our
guests to vanish for months at a time.
Dyson works a combination lock on the first locker.
MACKELWAY
I ran the name through our database, just
to be sure. There's never been an Agent
Benjamin O'Ryan in the Bureau.
DYSON
No... but as elaborate fantasies go, it
was one of my favorites.
(fondly)
And he always seemed so sincere about it.
Dyson half-chuckles; he always liked the guy... He throws open
the locker. Inside, nothing. Mackelway indicates the next
locker. Dyson works the combination.
MACKELWAY
Is that what you called him? Benjamin?
DYSON
It's what he wished to be called.
Locker #2 is opened - also empty. Only one locker left.
DYSON (CONT'D)
(re: locker #3)
That one's mine.
Mackelway shrugs: "Sorry, it has to be opened." Dyson sighs,
then works the combination. Mackelway waits.
Locker #3 is opened. Inside, nothing incriminating: a sweater,
some old junk, two trophies. Dyson eyes him: "See?" Mackelway
nods. Dyson shuts the locker.
Mackelway looks to that wall: 1,000 copies of the circle-with-
a-slash-through-it. No idea what they signify...
DYSON (CONT'D)
He painted one of the walls in his room,
too.
MACKELWAY
Can I see it?
DYSON
We've painted it over.
MACKELWAY
Still, might be helpful.
Dyson heads for the stairs. They're wooden slats with more
basement-junk stored below: old sporting equipment, an old
vaccuum cleaner, broken chairs, rusted patio furniture.
Mackelway follows. They climb...
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Wait.
They stop. Something just caught Mackelway's eye, visible
beneath these stairs: a BOX, with a bucket of PAINT sticking
out of it...
28 INT. BASEMENT - BENEATH THE STAIRS - CONTINUING 28
Mackelway climbs under the stairs, crouching down, pushing
aside all of the aforementioned junk. He grabs the box.
Sure enough, that bucket once held red paint - same color
O'Ryan used to cover that wall. There's also a bucket of BLACK
PAINT here. And some used brushes.
Mackelway brings the box into the meager light. We get a look
INSIDE IT now. So does Dyson.
Inside, beneath the paint-buckets, we see a few TV GUIDES, a
yo-yo, a football. Then a BOOK on TRIBAL RITUAL AND TRANCE.
Mackelway grabs it, eyes it.
He flips through a few pages - odd images: a TRIBESMAN with
eyes rolling back in his head, strange rites, etc.
Mackelway sets the book down. Then, amidst the other materials
in this box, he spots a large folded MAP.
He grabs it, begins to unfold it. We see that this map's been
written on, in pen. Cities on it have been CIRCLED.
But before we can get a good look at it, Mackelway spots
something else, at the bottom of this box, a shocker:
A photograph of himself.
It takes him a second to realize what he's looking at. But
there it is, a NEWSPAPER PHOTO, of Agent Thomas Mackelway.
It is part of a FRONT-PAGE STORY, dated July of this year,
concerning the trial and release...of Virgil Ray Starkey. #7
on the F.B.I.'s Most-Wanted List...
Dyson can't help but notice the picture of Mackelway.
Mackelway stares. Suddenly we JUMP BACK IN TIME, NINE MONTHS,
for a brief, choppy FLASHBACK.
29 EXT. STREET - MATAMOROS - NIGHT - MACKELWAY'S FLASHBACK 29
We're RUNNING, dashing between two buildings of chipped-adobe,
hearing nothing but the sound of our own breathing and the
thuds of our own heavy feet.
This is Matamoros, Mexico, a shit-hole of a border town.
Squalor and sin. We find a DRUNK MEXICAN TEEN. He nods: "This
is the place," and sticks out his palm.
30 INT. HOPE HOUSE - BASEMENT - RESUMING 30
Mackelway stares at that newspaper: Starkey - rapist,
murderer, whose case was just thrown out of court - a stunning
failure for all involved.
...as we RESUME MACKELWAY'S FLASHBACK - Matamoros again...
31 INT. "CLUB" - BACKSTAGE - RESUMING FLASHBACK 31
Bad-lighting, drunk patrons in a CIRCLE, and a DONKEY-SHOW
taking place on a bare stage. Feels like we've stepped into
some kind of evil carnival. It's dizzying.
Among the crowd: Virgil Starkey, in an ugly drunken binge, the
only guy in here who isn't cheering or laughing.
Suddenly our GUN is pointed right at his head.
Starkey freezes, caught. Some of the PATRONS around him find
somewhere else to stand... But the show goes on.
32 INT. HOPE HOUSE - BASEMENT - RESUMING 32
That ARTICLE gives us more detail now, the reason Starkey's
case was thrown out of court. It is this:
The F.B.I. Agent on the case had made a mistake in
"evidentiary procedure." Hence, Mackelway's picture.
On his face, we GO BACK TO ANOTHER MEMORY: six months ago.
33 INT. COURTHOUSE - ANTEROOM - DAY - ANOTHER FLASHBACK 33
Three months have passed since the arrest in Matamoros. Now
Mackelway sits in this courthouse ANTEROOM, adjacent to a
courtroom. Four sour PROSECUTORS surround him.
PROSECUTOR #1
D'you understand how fucked we are?
MACKELWAY
Yes, Sir.
PROSECUTOR #1
Leaving a tissue sample in the care of a
Mexican lab? Are you fucking kidding me?
MACKELWAY
They assured me that they understood
protocol.
PROSECUTOR #1
Well guess what? They didn't. And this
prick's gonna walk, ten murders or not.
That registered.
34 INT. HOPE HOUSE - BASEMENT - RESUMING 34
Beneath this newspaper article are OTHER ARTICLES, all
concerning Starkey: his crimes, his capture, all of it.
Mackelway's memory just got stoked again:
35 INT. COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY - RESUMING FLASHBACK 35
Mackelway emerges from that courthouse anteroom, whipped.
The hall's busy with MEDIA and other traffic. First face he
sees is Fran, who sits on a bench, (wedding ring ON). Her eyes
say how lousy she feels for him. It almost helps.
36 INT. COURTHOUSE BATHROOM - CONTINUING FLASHBACK 36
The door bursts open and Mackelway storms in. No need to look
composed now; he's alone in here. He crosses to a paper-towel
dispenser, SLUGS IT. Stares in the mirror.
He's livid, embarrassed, frustrated - can barely look at his
own reflection.
Then he hears LAUGHTER, behind him. He turns.
Out of the darkness of a badly-lit STALL, Virgil Starkey
emerges, coming into view under a single light.
Beside him is a GRIM COP, his chaperone. Starkey passes by
Mackelway, almost snickering. Then he's gone. Mackelway shuts
his eyes tight. His head is pounding. END FLASHBACK.
37 INT. HOPE HOUSE - BASEMENT - RESUMING 37
Mackelway stares... at a record of his deepest wound. But what
the hell is it doing in the locker of a transient?
CUT TO:
38 INT. HOPE HOUSE - "O'RYAN'S ROOM" - MOMENTS LATER 38
Mackelway leans in, looking around. A bed. A small end-table.
Bathroom. A window without bars.
From down the hall we hear the sound of a PHONE RINGING, then
a FAX transmission. An old fax machine begins to whine
noisily, creaking. It's a distraction.
But Mackelway's focus is in this room. The walls have been newly
painted. But there's a hint of barely-perceptible color
beneath one of them. Rain from a LEAKY ROOF is causing some of
the new paint to peel a bit.
A BUCKET collects drops in the center of the room. The feeling
in here is damp, mildewy, creepy. Mackelway remains in the
doorway... then backs out.
DYSON (O.S.)
I guess you fellas're never unaccounted
for, huh?
39 INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUING 39
Mackelway turns, a bit startled. Dyson is approaching, FAX in
hand.
MACKELWAY
Huh?
Dyson extends six pages. On the TOP-SHEET, written by hand,
are the words: "Agent Thomas Mackelway, C/O Mr. David Dyson,
Hope House" with a street address.
And under that top sheet? Five more pages.
Mackelway sighs, takes them from Dyson. Sure enough, he's
staring at five more faces, five more fact sheets. Five more
HAVE YOU SEEN ME's.
But how would anyone know to send them here?
DYSON
Anything urgent?
MACKELWAY
(doesn't look up)
No.
Dyson is glad to hear it.
CUT TO:
40 INT. HOPE HOUSE - FOYER - MOMENTS LATER 40
Mackelway descends, having had quite enough of this place.
Piper is where we left him, watching VH1 in the TV Room.
Mackelway passes, eyeing those newly-faxed pages: five more
HAVE YOU SEEN ME'S... He reaches the door.
PIPER
Ever seen a fifty-foot shark?
Mackelway stops, turns.
MACKELWAY
I'm sorry?
PIPER
Fifty-foot shark. Ever seen one?
MACKELWAY
No.
PIPER
Doesn't mean there aren't any.
Great. Mackelway reaches for the front door again. Then he
halts. Maybe this guy can be helpful. Mackelway turns:
MACKELWAY
Did you know him?
(Piper's silent)
The guy who used to stay upstairs.
"O'Ryan." Did you know him?
PIPER
Why? Is he dead?
MACKELWAY
I don't...
PIPER
You said "Did." Is he dead?
MACKELWAY
Oh. I mis-spoke. No, he's not dead...
(a beat)
You know him?
Piper nods.
Mackelway eyes him, then approaches, holding up a copy of that
image: the circle-with-slash-through-it.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
He ever talk about this? A circle with a
slash through it?
Piper rises, crosses to us... leaning in unnecessarily close.
It's unsettling.
PIPER
That's not a circle. It's a zero.
MACKELWAY
Oh. How do you know?
Piper doesn't answer. Instead he simply starts whistling.
But it's not a tune coming out of his mouth. It's that same
sound that O'Ryan made: A WHISTLING WIND, blowing through a
ghost town... Building, then falling again.
Piper smiles, backing away, enjoying the theatricality of it,
stifling a giggle...
Then, suddenly, everything turns GRAINY, CHOPPY...
We've jumped into a distorted, REMOTE POV of this same scene -
as if watching it through a crystal ball, or a broken lens, or
a distance of time and space...
We see images, fragments: Piper, the tv, the sofa, Mackelway's
face. Then all sound breaks up, and we are...
41 INT. MOTEL ROOM - SLEEPER, MISSOURI - CONTINUING 41
Start on O'Ryan's EYES. Then a pad of paper. The spasm of a
pen, scrawling a LIST on to it: "Piper. TV. Whistling." We're
in another non-descript MOTEL ROOM. $29 a night.
He holds down the point of his pen on a wavy line beside that
list of words, keeping it there for a few seconds, as if
expecting to receive some kind of pulse from it.
No more pulse. He has lost the "connection" that had somehow
transported him. He notes his watch. Jots down the exact time.
Slips the pad into that FOLDER: "Mackelway."
Then he starts to DRAW - a hurried but accurate sketch of
Mackelway and Piper, just as they stood during that
conversation. The geography is fairly accurate.
O'Ryan continues to draw. We CRANE OUT of this motel room, to
find, on the street below:
42 EXT. A BAR - SLEEPER, MISSOURI - CONTINUING 42
A typical honky-tonk in a town called Sleeper, Missouri. Just
across the street from O'Ryan's cheap motel...
43 INT. BAR - SLEEPER, MISSOURI - CONTINUING 43
Low-lights, dust on the floor. Pool tables.
LORETTA is a pretty 19-year-old who stands at the jukebox,
weighing her choices. She's got a thick curtain of hair, which
she wrangles with a CHIP-CLIP. It's a habit.
She chooses a country-rock tune, then heads for the bar,
walking to the beat. It's fun being 19 and beautiful.
44 AT THE BAR - CONTINUING 44
The BARTENDER'S a stocky guy with a broad smile.
LORETTA
(re: song)
How's that?
BARTENDER
Little cute for my taste, but I can stand
three minutes of it.
LORETTA
I'll have a seven and seven, please.
BARTENDER
Seven and seven. Got some i.d.?
She half-laughs, as if she hasn't been carded in a decade, and
throws that curtain of hair from one side to the other, re-
fastening that chip-clip. It's her best move.
LORETTA
It's in the car. No one's asked me for it
for a couple years now.
BARTENDER
If ya hurry, you'll still catch the end
of the song.
She eyes him: are you really carding me? He smiles: nothing
personal, Sugar. So she heads for the door.
...on her way, she passes a booth. In it we find a familiar
face - Virgil Ray Starkey...
He remains still, as if he hadn't noticed her. But behind
his eyes, something primal just took place. He rises, heads
for the door.
45 EXT. BAR - MOMENTS LATER 45
Loretta walks to her VW Bug. Starkey exits the bar. She
doesn't notice. We TILT UP: the lights are off in O'Ryan's
motel room...
46 EXT. AT LORETTA'S CAR - MOMENTS LATER 46
It all happens pretty fast: That chip-clip hits the ground
beside the open VW door. A battered PICK-UP speeds away,
kicking up gravel.
CUT TO:
...Loretta's eyes, wide with terror and dread.
47 INT. STARKEY'S PICK-UP - MINUTES LATER 47
We're off-road. Missouri's woods can be seen through the
windshield. And Starkey is staring at us. Pawing at us...
LORETTA
Please, Mister...
Starkey's hand shoots out, banging Loretta's head against the
window, hard. That makes things start to swim. Starkey tears
at her clothes, lowers himself on to her.
She whimpers. WE CARRY THE SOUND OF IT INTO:
48 INT. MACKELWAY'S APARTMENT - SAME 48
This is where you go when you've just moved to Wichita Falls
and money's tight: spotty shag carpet, chipped Formica kitchen
table, scuffed blinds.
...and one sleepless agent, having one lousy night.
Mackelway sits on the edge of his bed, almost able to hear
Loretta's helpless cries. Some nights are like this. His head
is POUNDING again. Down go four more Bufferin.
Above him, covering the bedroom mirror, is the MAP he took
from that Hope House basement. O'Ryan's map, UNFOLDED.
It's HUGE: 6-feet-wide, 4-feet-tall, obscuring the mirror.
As we glimpsed while still in that basement, this map his been
written on, in pen. O'Ryan's notations cover it:
Over a THUSAND CITIES on it have been CIRCLED, by hand, in
RED. Each of those circled cities has a DATE written beside
it, also in red: ("4/6," "5/19," "10-26," etc.)
Mackelway studies it, his face working. Another of those
WHIMPERS from Loretta seems to hang, suspended. Mackelway
shakes it off, certain that he's imagining it.
He won't sleep a wink tonight. We LEAVE HIM, returning to:
49 INT. STARKEY'S PICK-UP - RESUMING 49
The attack continues, its terror unimaginable. Loretta sobs.
It hurts. Starkey's too powerful to fight off. We stay on her
face: dazed, her mind simply checking out.
...until a look of cognizance comes over her, brought on by a
SHADOW that just passed by.
Then the window behind Starkey simply EXPLODES.
Glass flies everywhere, and TWO ARMS reach into the pick-up.
They grab Starkey by the neck and yank him out of the pick-up,
his back sliced open by shards. He screams.
She can't resist coming to the window, where she sees:
50 EXT. WOODS - STARKEY'S PICK-UP - CONTINUING 50
Starkey lies, face up. Shocked. Squirming. Bleeding. Standing
over him, looming large as a Grizzly... is O'Ryan. A long
HUNTING KNIFE extends from his hand.
But his tone, to our great surprise, is conversational:
O'RYAN
Hey, listen, I'm sorta new in town. Ya
know where I can find a good donkey show?
Starkey has no idea how to respond to this maniac:
STARKEY
Huh?
O'RYAN
Oh. Forgot. Wrong country... In America
animals have rights.
(pointedly)
Don't they, Virgil?
STARKEY
How the fuck should I know?
O'Ryan half-smiles, then kicks Starkey right in the head.
Loretta's eyes go wide. Another kick follows, to the ribs.
Then one to the groin. Then:
O'RYAN
(at Loretta)
Turn around.
He said that without looking at her. But he can tell that she
hasn't moved - too frightened. So he eyes her.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
(again)
Turn around!
She turns away, lying face down on the seat, covering her
head. No idea what kind of terror is to come next. We STAY
WITH HER... able only to hear what follows:
The sound is animal, awful - like a pig being gutted - a
horrible SQUEAL, covering the GRUNTS coming from O'Ryan.
In goes the knife again, prompting another agonized cry from
Starkey. Loretta's crying too: from fear, shock... She keeps
her face buried, shutting her eyes tight. The sounds of
savagery fill the night.
Then, one last gasp from Starkey... followed by an awful
silence... and the assault is over.
Loretta's too afraid to look up - certain that the maniac with
the knife will be coming after her next.
But then she hears FOOTSTEPS, trailing away. So she rises,
peeking over the edge of the window. WE STAY ON HER FACE, as
she sees what's become of her attacker.
Her horrified SCREAM fills the woods...
51 INT. MACKELWAY'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - RESUMING 51
Mackelway STARES out the window; seems like he just HEARD that
scream. Of course, that'd be impossible. He looks to that map.
His PHONE RINGS. He eyes it, unsurprised...
CUT TO:
52 EXT. WOODS OUTSIDE SLEEPER, MO. - LATER 52
Law enforcement VEHICLES surround the site. COPS, Grieves,
CORONER'S GUYS taking pictures. Loretta is sitting on the back
of an ambulance, being tended to.
A COMPOSITE ARTIST sits beside her, trying.
LORETTA
I don't think the eyes are right.
COMPOSITE ARTIST
Narrower?
LORETTA
No, they were... I don't really know.
Composite Artist keeps trying, but his attempt doesn't look
anything like the face of O'Ryan.
Charlton, meanwhile, stands over the body, mind racing.
A Missouri Highway Patrol car pulls up. Mackelway steps out of
it. We follow him as he takes in the scene.
A FLASHBULB illuminates Starkey's CHEST; is got a zero-with-
a-slash-through-it. But Mackelway hasn't seen the guy's face
yet.
MACKELWAY
Sir?
(Charlton turns)
We got an i.d. yet?
CHARLTON
Mmm-hmm.
(Mackelway waits)
Might wanna find yourself a fender.
You're gonna need to sit down.
(Mackelway's still waiting)
It's Virgil Ray Starkey.
Mackelway pales.
We stay on him for a moment as it registers. The man he
caught, and then lost, has killed again. No. God, no.
MACKELWAY
(struggling for composure:)
Starkey did this?
CHARLTON
No. Starkey's the one on the ground.
Mackelway pauses, thinks he must've heard wrong. But he turns
toward the face, as ANOTHER FLASHBULB illuminates it, searing
the image into the darkness. Starkey. Dead. His eyelids ripped
away.
Mackelway stares, stunned. Can't fucking believe it.
MACKELWAY
(breathless)
My God...
It's like looking at a ghost - a spectre that's been haunting
him, dead now... Mackelway pulls out his Minox, starts
photographing, moving in on those LIDLESS EYES...
GRIEVES
Gonna make a wallet-size of that one?
CHARLTON
Give him a break, Grieves.
Mackelway doesn't comment. Just keeps snapping shots...
CUT TO:
53 INT. FBI OFFICE - MACKELWAY'S CUBICLE - MORNING 53
The number of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's has now grown, quite a bit.
45 PAGES sit stacked on Mackelway's desk. 45 victims. He grabs
the stack, rises.
Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie,
the Receptionist, rounding a corner.
MACKELWAY
Scuse me.
She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into:
54 INT. FBI OFFICE - CONFERENCE ROOM - CONTINUING 54
A room has been dedicated solely to those three murders. On an
erasure board are the words: The "O'Ryan" Room.
On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a
thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself.
Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up
a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for
every faxed face.
Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on
"10-16-99."
Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map.
Next to it he'd written "10-16."
Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside.
Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen?
"Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00."
Of course, O'Ryan had circled "Macon" too. Beside it he'd
written "5-6." So Macon gets a yellow pin.
Mackelway continues, as:
FRAN (O.S.)
Got nothing on the last fax.
Mackelway turns. In comes Fran.
FRAN (CONT'D)
Came from a business center at a Mariott
in Dallas. Nobody saw who sent it.
Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the
room.
CHARLTON
Whadda we know about the map?
MACKELWAY
It matches the faxes, Sir. Almost
perfectly.
Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red.
Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE
YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.)
Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the
map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it.
CHARLTON
Why's Greenville in blue?
(Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but
tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.)
MACKELWAY
Only city where the date on the fax and
the date on the map didn't correspond.
He pulls out a fax from the stack: a Korean boy named "Steven
Kim. Age 16. Last Seen: Greenville, Tx. Date of Disappearance:
8-7-98."
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Fax lists the date of disappearance as
August 7. On the map he's written "10-
26."
The DATE on O'Ryan's map reads "10-26" beside Greenville, Tx.
So Greenville gets the only blue pin on this map.
Charlton notes today's date: October 17...
CHARLTON
Any of these bodies been recovered?
MACKELWAY
Two so far. Female, disappeared from
Dayton, Ohio on April 12. And a male,
Trenton, New Jersey, January 5th.
On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has
"1/5." Both have yellow pins in them.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
But both bodies were found over a
thousand miles from where they'd last
been seen. One in Montana, the other in
Oregon. Got autopsy reports on both.
Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY
PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before.
We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and
above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory
glance, nothing more.
But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from
Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf.
Looks almost symmetrical, horizontal across the calf...
CHARLTON
Either of the bodies have the zero on
them?
MACKELWAY
No, Sir.
Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We
look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it...
DISSOLVE TO:
...that same map, over a HUNDRED YELLOW PINS in it now.
55 INT. FBI OFFICE - "O'RYAN ROOM" - NIGHT 55
It's 8:30 at night. Mackelway is alone in here - staring at
the map. He's been doing a lot of that lately.
The stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's has grown as well. Every one
of them corresponds to a yellow pin on the map.
(Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We
see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC,
each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.)
Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him.
Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he
took himself with that Minox.
FRAN
Why you?
MACKELWAY
Huh?
FRAN
He could be sending these to any agent in
any office in the country... But he's
sending them to you. Why?
Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately.
MACKELWAY
I don't know.
PHONE RINGS. She grabs it.
FRAN (INTO PHONE)
This is Agent Kulok.
(a beat)
Who's calling?
She hears the answer, then covers the phone.
FRAN (CONT'D)
(to Mackelway:)
Do you know a professor named Daitz? Says
he's from Tulane.
MACKELWAY
(eagerly)
Yeah. Criminal Psych. I've been trading e-
mails with him.
FRAN (INTO PHONE)
One moment, please...
She hands him the phone...
CUT TO:
56 EXT. TULANE UNIVERSITY - ESTABLISHING - NIGHT 56
A beautiful campus, quiet tonight. In its center lies a vast,
expensive structure - the Behavioral Sciences Building. The
place goes on forever.
57 INT. TULANE - BEHAVIORAL SCIENCES BUILDING - SAME 57
Mackelway exits an elevator on the "B-1 Level." Corridors
octopus their way from these elevators, confusing us...
58 INT. BUILDING CORRIDOR - MOMENTS LATER 58
Every door looks the same. Mackelway follows the numbers -
can't believe how long these hallways are. Turns a corner.
Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has
found the right number, at last.
A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz,
Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his
office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door.
MACKELWAY
Professor Daitz?
O'RYAN (O.S.)
Yes?
Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside.
Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as
he can look. He rises, smiles warmly.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Agent Mackelway. Come in...
CUT TO:
59 INT. DAITZ' OFFICE - LATER NIGHT 59
A tiny, cramped hovel. Books, papers, and all of it jammed to
overflowing. Mackelway sits across from O'Ryan...
O'RYAN
(as "Daitz:")
...The name of this theory was "Suspect
Zero."
(Mackelway nods)
The idea of Suspect Zero posits that if a
serial killer were diabolical enough, he
could traverse the country without ever
being caught, killing randomly.
There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS -
crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Tell me, what makes a killer catchable?
MACKELWAY
Patterns, repetition of behavior.
O'RYAN
Now imagine a killer with no patterns, no
tell-tale fetishes, no rituals, no hidden
desire to be caught. A perfect vessel of
evil, killing without ever leaving a
single meaningful clue in his wake...
He'd be immune to capture, wouldn't he?
Your task forces, your forensics teams -
they'd be helpless.
Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume
about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of
serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites...
MACKELWAY
Is that something you believe in,
Professor? Evil?
O'RYAN
As a citizen of the world, it's hard not
to. Wouldn't you say?
(Mackelway can't argue)
Evil is all around us, I think - a part
of the natural order of things. Like
gravity. Like wind. A vast black wave,
corrupting everything it touches. A virus
invades a cell, causing it to
dysfunction. Perfectly logical. But did
it ever occur to you that something may
have invaded that virus, something
capable of using it to mutate so
powerfully?
Mackelway pauses, considering that.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Just because something's invisible to us
doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say
for sure just yet what it is...
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Have you ever seen a fifty-foot shark?
That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it
was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens.
MACKELWAY
I'm sorry?
O'RYAN
A shark, as we know, will only attack
humans if he runs out of food. But
biologists have theorized that for a
shark of fifty feet the ocean would be an
endless buffet. He'd never run out of
food, so he'd have no need to come to the
surface. Consequently, we would never see
him. Do you follow?
(Mackelway doesn't)
We'll never see one. But that doesn't
mean they don't exist. Hence Suspect
Zero.
Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient
weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his
sidearm, as O'Ryan continues:
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Some of my colleagues think I'm
fascinated with evil. I think the truth
is just the opposite: evil is fascinated
with us. What better vehicle could there
be for creating havoc in the world - what
better instrument - than Man? We're vain,
we're stubborn, we're deceitful, we have
an imagination that is limitless in its
perversions. Of course Evil keeps trying
to harness us. Wouldn't you?
The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting
that gun...
Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Excuse me.
O'Ryan rises, goes to the door... as Mackelway unholsters his
gun. O'Ryan opens the door. Standing here is a COED, with a
backpack. She looks confused.
COED
Oh. I'm sorry. I was looking for
Professor--
Just like that, O'Ryan has bolted past the Coed, literally
tossing her onto Mackelway, exploding into the hall.
She screams. Mackelway grabs her, moves her aside as gently as
time allows, then blows out of the room...
60 INT. BUILDING - BASEMENT CORRIDOR - CONTINUING 60
O'Ryan turns a corner, vanishing. Mackelway follows.
61 INT. BUILDING - CORRIDOR CORNER - CONTINUING 61
Mackelway finds himself facing another endless corridor: One
door after another, for what seems like a mile. But no O'Ryan.
Then Mackelway spots an EXIT SIGN. A stairwell...
62 INT. STAIRWELL - CONTINUING 62
Mackelway enters. The stairs go six stories UP from here...
and one story DOWN. A sub-basement.
It's a guess. He descends, gun drawn.
63 INT. SUB-BASEMENT - CONTINUING 63
Mackelway emerges. "B-2" looks a lot like B-1: long and
endless. We hear air moving around us, pipes carrying water,
the wheezing of an old generator...
And, on all sides of us, DOOES, a mile of them: maintenance
offices, supply rooms, labs. He opens one - a janitor's
supply. No one in here.
Tries another door. Locked. A second. Locked. A third. Locked.
Air sucks through a corridor around us. He thinks he hears
footsteps around a corner. Runs at them.
64 INT. SUB-BASEMENT - CORNER - CONTINUING 64
Nothing. No one. Just another vast corridor. More doors.
Then, a sound. GLASS, shattering on the floor. He runs down
the corridor, passing a long metal CAGE that houses this
building's FIVE FURNACES. They're old and wheezy.
It's dark behind them, shadowy. Not a bad place to hide.
Farther down the corridor is another door - made of frosted
glass. A sign on it reads "Neuropsychiatric Lab." That's where
the sound came from... he thinks.
65 INT. SUB-BASEMENT - LAB - CONTINUING 65
Mackelway enters. The lab is dark. He throws on every light
switch within reach... and finds himself standing over the
shards of what used to be a GLASS BEAKER.
So he's in the right place. He scans it: five rows of work-
stations, ten microscopes per row, each with a sink beside it.
Lining the walls are wide CABINETS.
But there's also a MINI-LIBRARY down here: Four rows of
BOOKSHELVES, housing medical journals. These are the "stacks" -
perfect for hiding behind.
He plunges in. Row #1. Doesn't see anyone. Then Row #2, Row
#3, Row #4. Okay, the stacks check out...
He walks along the rows of work-stations, scanning, crouching,
nudging open cabinets. One has been opened:
Bottles of SOLUTIONS sit inside it. And a JAR that's been
unsealed: It's got GAUZE PADS in it...
In the back of the room, an INSTRUCTOR'S DESK awaits. It's
tall enough to hide beneath. Mackelway slinks around it.
Kneels down, looking into darkness...
Then, a NOISE. The FRONT DOOR of this lab just swung open...
And O'Ryan just bolted out. Fuck.
66 INT. SUB-BASEMENT - CORRIDOR - CONTINUING 66
Mackelway emerges from the lab. Those furnaces whine beside
him on the other side of that cage. But a GATE on that cage
has been left ajar...
67 INT. "FURNACE ROOM" - CONTINUING 67
Five furnaces, separated from the sub-basement corridor by
steel mesh. Mackelway enters. A few meager BULBS burn.
He moves amidst shadow and noise: the chugging of engines, the
humming, the wheezing, a slight vibration to the floor beneath
us. He walks along the edge of Furnace #1...
...and is assaulted, from above.
O'Ryan falls on him, knocking Mackelway hard into the sharp
CORNER of that furnace, then down to the ground. Mackelway's
gun skids across the floor.
And his mouth, suddenly, has been covered with gauze.
He wants to fight back... but suddenly he finds that his head
is swimming. Something's on that gauze. The room is getting
fuzzy.
We see the belly of a furnace - flames, heat. Then our own
BLOOD... (Mackelway's CHEST was torn open by the corner of
that furnace.) Wait. Did we just see the glint of a KNIFE?
O'Ryan is leaning over us, in utter control.
Then O'Ryan's head turns, abruptly - at the sound of
FOOTSTEPS. And we hear:
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
Hey! You! What're you doing down here!
We turn, groggily. TWO JANITORS rush toward us, keys jangling.
It's all foggy, wavy, distorted.
We see O'Ryan RISE. Then everything goes black...
CUT TO:
68 INT. A HOSPITAL ROOM - MORNING 68
Mackelway's head is ringing. Feels like he can hear
electricity in the walls around him. Slowly, he awakens. Above
him are fluorescent lights. Monitors blink...
Fran is here. So's Charlton. Mackelway tries to sit up. The
shock of pain from his chest stops him.
FRAN
How ya doin'?
Mackelway half-nods. His chest is bandaged.
CHARLTON
We're gonna need everything you can
remember about this guy, Tom. Physical
description, any kind of distinguishing
characteristics.
That was terse. Charlton looks pretty pissed-off.
MACKELWAY
(scratchy)
Where is he?
CHARLTON
The suspect fled. Couple janitors walked
in on it.
(before Mack can ask:)
They're fine. But the description they
gave of him wasn't worth a damn.
Mackelway nods.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
Case you're curious the real Professor
Daitz is on sabbatical, out of the
country. We can't find him.
(Mackelway nods)
Whose idea was it to meet there?
MACKELWAY
His, Sir.
CHARLTON
Uh-huh. Did he ask you to come alone?
MACKELWAY
No, Sir.
CHARLTON
But you figured you'd get a bigger pat on
the head if you wrapped this whole thing
up without any help - is that it?
The truth? Charlton has him pegged. But:
FRAN
Sir, I'm the one who took the call. Agent
Mackelway was acting under the assumption
that I'd already checked the guy out.
We're both to blame.
Hold it. That was a major exaggeration, if not an outright
lie. Mackelway eyes her, thrown. She's poker-faced.
Charlton, however, seems unmoved...
CHARLTON
Did Agent Mackelway attend the interview
unaccompanied?
FRAN
(reluctantly)
Yes, Sir.
CHARLTON
Then whose fuck-up is it?
Mackelway eyes her: "Thanks for trying." She nods.
MACKELWAY
(at Charlton)
It was... poor judgment, Sir.
CHARLTON
You wanna work alone, start your own
agency.
Mackelway can do nothing but nod. Then, bailing him out,
another COMPOSITE ARTIST enters, tools in hand. Charlton
sighs, frustrated.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
(re: Composite Artist)
Let's get you two started.
Composite Artist is ready to begin...
CUT TO:
69 INT. BAPTIST CHURCH - DAY 69
A lively Sunday Service. Lots of Baptists, singing a rousing
spiritual. Music and praise filling the room.
We move along the pews, until we came to the very back row...
There, one man sits. Alone. Quiet. O'Ryan.
Odd expression on his face - it's as if he can't hear this
rousing music, or feel the power of this place. People in the
next row are stomping their feet. Music soars.
But O'Ryan just drops his head, slowly... and begins to WEEP
in the middle of this boisterous congregation.
Outside, an 18-WHEEL TRUCK can be heard, rumbling by with
great force. No one else in here seems to hear it.
But O'Ryan shuts his eyes tight, grieving, sobbing...
70 EXT. STREET - OUTSIDE THE CHURCH - CONTINUING 70
That TRUCK has just thundered by, leaving a swirl of debris in
its wake. We TILT UP from it... to find that those STORMCLOUDS
once in the distance are upon us now.
And they are pulsing with menace. Rain, wind, lightning,
thunder. Like a black wave, about to descend...
71 INTERCUT WITH/INT. FBI OFFICE - "FAX ROOM" - SAME 71
One of those five FAX MACHINES begins to ring. Then it begins
to PRINT.
It's a Sunday. No one's here... but we get a look at what's
coming in. Same TOP-SHEET again: "Attention Agent Thomas
Mackelway" etc.
CONTINUE INTERCUT: this incoming fax, set against a few
tableaus of Americana. Innocence...
72 EXT. HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL STADIUM - SAME 72
A high school MARCHING BAND is out here, practicing.
Cheerleaders work on their routines nearby.
Then a LOUD WHISTLE SOUNDS. It's the BAND-LEADER, who is
taking note of the weather gathering overhead. The music from
the band ceases.
BAND-LEADER
Everybody into the gym!
The band-members start to move. LIGHTNING erupts overhead.
73 EXT. UNIDENTIFIED HOME - BACKYARD - SAME 73
An unnamed MOTHER emerges onto her back-porch, where her FIVE-
YEAR OLD DAUGHTER is having a playdate with a FRIEND.
This house borders a wooded area. That wind is starting to
make the trees swirl.
MOTHER
Girls, I want you to come in now.
Startin' to rain.
The girls sigh, disappointed, deciding instead to hide
themselves inside the TENT they've erected out here.
They giggle. The mother doesn't. CONTINUE INTERCUT:
74 INT. FBI OFFICE - "FAX ROOM" - RESUMING 74
That fax is now printing page after page. Photos with HAVE YOU
SEEN ME? across the top and vitals across the bottom.
But this time the transmission isn't stopping at five. There
are at least TEN sitting in the tray. Maybe twenty. Faces.
Eyes. Stats. Locations. Innocence violated...
75 EXT. PARK - SAME 75
A SOCCER GAME's been called in the middle of the Second Half.
PARENTS and their uniformed 12 YEAR-OLDS scatter.
RAIN is pouring down now, blown sideways by that wind.
76 INT. THE 18-WHEELER - SAME 76
That massive, gleaming beast that rumbled past the church now
rolls right by this park - as all of those kids and their
parents scramble for the shelter of their cars.
The windshield wipers on this truck push water away, giving us
a clear look at the wet suburban chaos.
77 INT. BAPTIST CHURCH - RESUMING 77
The faithful in here keep singing, their voices full with
praise - despite the heavy weather outside. They feel safe in
here. We move along the PEWS...
...until we find O'Ryan's. He's not here anymore.
78 EXT. BAPTIST CHURCH - SAME 78
O'Ryan leans against the door of the church, pelted by that
heavy rain.
BAM! Here comes those IMAGES AGAIN:
79 EXT. WHEAT FIELD - NIGHT - RESUMING 79
Tall wheat, whipped by wind and rain. A muzzle-flash. The
sound of a body slumping hard to the ground.
...and Mackelway, looking over us. Then:
80 EXT. BAPTIST CHURCH - RESUMING 80
We're back with O'Ryan. He leans against the door, his
torment constant.
He walks away from the church, into that heavy rain.
81 INT. FBI OFFICE - "FAX ROOM" - RESUMING 81
The fax tray has overflown onto the floor - 200 more photos,
200 more HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Forgotten victims. We hear a last
rumble from that 18-WHEELER. END INTERCUT...
CUT TO:
82 INT. FBI OFFICE - "O'RYAN ROOM" - LATE NIGHT 82
Now there are 800 YELLOW PINS stuck in this map - one for
every single FAX or LETTER that's been received in the past
weeks.
800 faces. 800 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's, represented by 800 pins in
800 cities. It's like a national plague.
Mackelway sits, examining it soberly. His chest-wound is
killing him. (We see a thick bandage beneath his shirt.)
In his pocket now is a bottle of PRESCRIPTION PILLS. Percodan.
He slugs one down without water, his eyes never straying from
that map.
Beside it is a COMPOSITE DRAWING from O'Ryan, taken from
Mackelway's description. It's dead-on...
CUT TO:
83 EXT. LONGHORN DINER WICHITA FALLS - NIGHT - ESTABLISHING 83
This is the lone source of light on an otherwise dark stretch
of road. Mackelway's Yukon pulls up.
84 INT. LONGHORN DINER WICHITA FALLS - MOMENTS LATER 84
Hardly a sound in here. Mackelway stands at the register,
paying for his TAKE-OUT. Another night with nothing but his
thoughts for company. Great. Then:
A YOUNG WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
Agent Mackelway?
It's Katie, the receptionist from his office - sitting by
herself in a nearby booth. Mackelway smiles.
KATIE (CONT'D)
Hi.
CUT TO:
85 INT. KATIE'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - LATER NIGHT 85
Inexpensive, but furnished with all the touches that
Mackelway's apartment lacks: flea-market stuff, lace, antique
books, photos from other eras. Character.
And candles. Lots of candles. They throw SHADOWS of Mackelway
and Katie all over the walls.
An odd MUSIC fills the room, coming from a BOOM-BOX on the
floor. It's a rhythmic Navajo CHANT, with Native-American
drums providing the pulse.
It's eery, tuneless, but awfully authentic... and it fits the
intensity of the moment: Mackelway and Katie, coupling madly,
their eyes locked. She's breathless.
First time we've seen him shirtless since his injury in that
furnace room. A FAT BANDAGE covers a quarter of his chest.
Dried blood can be seen beneath it.
There's an intensity in his eyes. The chanting, the candles,
Katie's body, his wound... they've conspired to bring an
intensity into his eyes. It's dark, primal.
And he's been expressing it for an hour without relent...
which is why Katie gasps one last gasp, then rolls to the edge
of the bed, exhausted.
She reaches for that boom-box, lowers the volume. The chanting
dies down into silence. She catches her breath.
KATIE
(softly)
I can't anymore.
Mackelway eyes her, then reaches past her, and turns the
VOLUME on that boom-box back UP. The chanting fills the room
again.
And just like that, he has pulled her back onto him, urgently.
That primal side hasn't been sated yet...
CUT TO:
86 INT. KATIE'S APT. - BATHROOM - LATER NIGHT 86
Mackelway stands at the mirror, changing the dressing on that
wound across his chest. He unwraps the gauze over that fat
bandage soaked through with blood.
He pulls the bandage off, giving us a better look at the deep
gash. Dried blood, torn skin, bruising. Looks like hell. But
Mackelway eyes it calmly.
He slugs down some beer from a nearby bottle, then cleans the
wound with some Hydrogen Peroxide... as Katie appears in the
doorway. She eyes him.
KATIE
Can't sleep?
He shrugs, turns.
MACKELWAY
What was that music?
KATIE
It's Navajo. A song for dead warriors. I
never played it for anybody before.
(a beat)
Just had a feeling you'd like it.
MACKELWAY
How?
KATIE
I dunno. The way you stare when you think
nobody's looking.
She shrugs. Silence hovers...
CUT TO:
87 INT. KATIE'S APT. - BEDROOM - PRE-DAWN 87
4:30 a.m. Rain pounds the window and roof, a real storm out
there. The boom box is still. The candles are down to their
nubs. Katie continues to sleep. Mackelway too.
Then his eyes SNAP OPEN.
Something just hit him, something huge. One of those 4:30-in-
the-morning ideas that has to be expressed. Now.
CUT TO:
88 INT. HOTEL HALLWAY - 5 A.M. 88
Mackelway stands outside Room 217 at a Mariott. He's just
knocked on the door.
Fran opens it, in a robe. Very confused. He looks manic.
FRAN
What're you--
MACKELWAY
I can't get a read on this guy.
Two minutes ago, she was sound asleep.
FRAN
Huh?
MACKELWAY
Why is he sending us all this shit? I've
got 800 pins in that map, 800 missing
people. What's he telling us?
She gets it now: he's on a combination of painkillers and lack
of sleep. Or maybe she can sense where he's been...
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
(rapid-fire)
He kills a travelling salesman, then a
school-teacher. Then Starkey? It doesn't
connect.
FRAN
You're a mess...
MACKELWAY
I'm fine. I'm clear. I just didn't think
this could wait. Fran, this guy is trying
to point us at something. Starkey's part
of it. But the other two don't connect.
FRAN
Did you drive here?
MACKELWAY
I'm fine! I just need somebody to think
this through with me! He wanted to meet
me. It's like he was interviewing me
somehow. What is that? Then he kills
Starkey. So what was he doing with Speck
and Fulcher?
FRAN
You wanna come in?
MACKELWAY
No. No. You come out. Get dressed.
FRAN
Out where?
MACKELWAY
I dunno. Somewhere. We're right on the
edge of this thing.
She studies him. A long beat.
FRAN
I'm going back to bed. You're welcome to
the couch if you want. I think you could
do with some sleep.
He sags a bit. She reaches for his hand.
FRAN (CONT'D)
(gently)
Mack...
Just like that, there is contact. Their hands. It surprises
them both.
He appreciates it, but now's not the time. So he smiles
thinly, turns, and goes.
She watches him vanish around a corner.
CUT TO:
89 EXT. HAROLD SPECK'S HOUSE - 6:00 A.M. 89
We've been to this house before. Suburbia.
Mackelway sits in his car, at the curb, studying the place.
Rain falls in sheets, wind blows. And there he is, all alone,
six in the morning, staring at a house.
That idea - the thought that snapped his eyes open - it's
still working on him. Beside him is the DRAWING that was found
in Speck's car:
The rendering of a steamer-trunk, lined with plastic,
containing body parts in plastic bags... Mackelway seems to be
fixated on it now.
CUT TO:
90 EXT. SPECK'S HOUSE - 9:15 A.M. 90
A hand knocks on the front door. Jan Speck opens up.
JAN
(hoping for good news:)
Agent Mackelway?
Mackelway stands in the doorway, rain falling behind him.
MACKELWAY
(all business)
Mrs. Speck. Just had a few more
questions.
CUT TO:
91 INT. SPECK'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER 91
Mackelway sits at the WINDOW, looking over the backyard.
Nothing special out here: some trees, a swing, a storm-cellar
door.
But he's staring at it, intently. We're not sure why.
Behind him, Jan re-enters, purse over her shoulder, umbrella
in hand. She grabs his cup of coffee and saucer from the
coffee table.
JAN
I'm sorry I don't have more time, Agent
Mackelway. It's my PTA Day.
MACKELWAY
It's fine. I should've called.
She smiles tightly: "I have to go now" and heads for the
kitchen. Once she's there, Mackelway turns to the BACK DOOR
and UNLOCKS IT, eyeing that storm-cellar outside...
She leaves the cup in the sink. He enters the kitchen.
JAN
I hope I was of some help.
MACKELWAY
You were. Thanks.
JAN
A friend of mine said I'll feel like this
one month for every year we were
together. Sort of a grieving rule-of-
thumb. Have you ever heard that?
MACKELWAY
(gently)
No. Sorry.
She half-smiles. He turns to the door. Turns back.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Oh. There was one other thing: Did he
keep any kind of chemicals around the
house? Acids, that sort of thing?
JAN
No. Why?
He shrugs, dismissing it:
MACKELWAY
It's nothing. Trace elements we found on
his trunk. Any interest in chemistry?
Maybe as a hobby?
Jan pauses for a moment, as if recovering a faint memory...
Then she shakes it off. He lets it go.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Anyway, thank you. And thanks for the
coffee. Next time I'll call first, I
promise.
JAN
No trouble at all.
CUT TO:
92 EXT. SPECK'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER 92
Mackelway sits in his car. Through his windshield we see Jan
as she backs out of the driveway.
She pulls past us, giving Mackelway as friendly a wave as a
grieving widow can give. He waves back.
Then she's gone, disappearing around a corner.
Mackelway pauses a beat, checking his rear-view mirror to be
sure. Then he gets out of his car...
CUT TO:
93 EXT. SPECK'S HOUSE - SIDE GATE - MOMENTS LATER 93
Mackelway sneaks around the side of the house, pulling on a
lever to unlatch the side-gate.
94 EXT. SPECK'S HOUSE - BACKYARD - CONTINUING 94
He emerges into the tiny backyard, making a bee-line for that
storm cellar door.
He knows he shouldn't be doing this. It's beyond risky. But
here he is, without a warrant.
There's no lock on the cellar door. He reaches for it. Then he
stops himself. Just noticed something:
A NEIGHBOR-LADY, visible just over Speck's backyard fence, is
looking right at him through her bedroom window.
Fuck it. He enters the storm cellar.
95 INT. SPECK'S STORM CELLAR - CONTINUING 95
Seven steps, leading to a dusty cement floor. Mackelway looks
around.
Facing him are the things a meticulous man would store in case
of disaster: Cans of food, sternos, sleeping mats, drums of
potable water.
And long FOOT-LOCKERS. Two of them. That's where Mackelway's
eyes go, instantly. He hurries to them.
Throws one open. Nothing but sheets and blankets inside. He
paws through it... finding nothing else.
He throws the other trunk open. Inside? Pillows. Fuck.
He slams it shut, looks to those cans of food, stacked on
shelves. He approaches the shelves, jostling cans from their
rows, making more noise than he ought to.
But he finds nothing behind them... except more cans. He
approaches those two huge drums of water, lugs them aside.
Behind them is a tall CUPBOARD, locked.
He pulls at the cupboard door, hard. It splinters.
Inside, a rifle and some boxes of ammo... same as you'd find
in every other storm-cellar in Texas.
He pauses: Am I crazy...?
CUT TO:
96 EXT. SPECK'S BACKYARD - MOMENTS LATER 96
He emerges from the storm-cellar, confused. Shuts the storm-
cellar door.
Then he turns. Something else just caught his eye:
Above Speck's bedroom window is another window, a tiny one. An
attic...
He heads for that UNLOCKED BACK DOOR, and enters...
97 INT. SPECK'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUING 97
He hurries toward the stairs, reaches them... then spots
something through the Entry Hall window:
On the street outside, pulling up to the curb... is a POLICE
CAR. Sirens off. That Neighbor-Lady must've placed the call.
And here's Mackelway, without a warrant. Shit.
Two ABILENE COPS get out, approaching the house. Mackelway
climbs the stairs.
98 INT. SPECK'S HOUSE - STAIRS - CONTINUING 98
If he stays quiet, he might just pull this off.
99 INT. SPECK'S HOUSE - SECOND STORY - CONTINUING 99
A tiny hallway, with four doors. Up ahead, dangling from the
ceiling, is a tiny rope which promises a set of hidden fold-
out stairs... and an attic.
Mackelway tugs on the rope. The fold-out stairs drop down out
of the ceiling. Then he hears:
NEIGHBOR LADY (O.S.)
He's inside! He's inside! Went in through
the back!
...which means he has mere seconds before this all blows to
hell. So he climbs up those fold-out stairs.
The two ABILENE COPS now circle the house, entering through
the back-porch door, just as Mackelway did.
He pulls up the folding stairs. Maybe the guys'll do a half-
assed search and then leave...
100 INT. SPECK'S HOUSE - ATTIC_- CONTINUING 100
Mackelway looks around: lots of dusty junk around here - old
clothes, mementoes.
...and one more trunk. A steamer-trunk. Huge. And locked.
Looks just like the one in that DRAWING rendered by O'Ryan...
Mackelway races for it. Takes out his gun, uses the butt-end
to bust the lock off. Throws it open.
...as we hear the sound of those fold-out steps, being tugged
down from the second-floor hallway. And:
ABILENE COP #1 (O.S.)
Freeze, Asshole!
The COP is just ten feet away, most of him still concealed by
those steps - gun trained right on us.
But Mackelway seems utterly untroubled.
MACKELWAY
(calmly)
It's okay, Fellas. FBI.
ABILENE COP #1
I'll bet.
Mackelway drops his gun, kicks it toward the cop, who doesn't
quite know what to make of that.
Also confusing him is the odd smile playing its way across
Mackelway's face. But we understand it now:
The inside of that steamer-trunk is filled with BODY PARTS:
bagged, stacked, and sealed in Ziplocs...
Powdered LIME is sprinkled on them.
Mackelway stares, at once satisfied and sickened. COP #1 can
be heard, approaching across the attic floor. His gun is
drawn...
...until he too sees what's in there.
ABILENE COP #1 (CONT'D)
Oh Jesus Christ...
CUT TO:
...a Grammar-School CLASS PICTURE: of Barney Fulcher and his
2nd Graders, sitting on a mantle. We are...
101 INT. FULCHER'S HOME - LIVING ROOM - BOULDER - DAY 101
That picture sits beside other photos, awards, plaques - all
celebrating Fulcher's career in Colorado education.
We turn away from that mantle, blowing through this modest
Living Room, finding an open door - leading down to:
102 INT. FULCHER'S HOME - BASEMENT - CONTINUING 102
Down the steps we go, until we hear the HUM of an old FREEZER.
We turn toward the sound.
The freezer is open. A team of FORENSICS GUYS study it.
Inside this freezer, frozen into a block of ice... are six
female HANDS. No arms, no heads. Just six slender hands, each
with a wedding band on the ring finger.
Mackelway stands in the back of this basement, taking it all
in. He looks to Charlton, who is expressionless.
CUT TO:
102a EXT. FULCHER'S HOUSE - DUSK 102a
Close on Mackelway as he returns to his Yukon satisfied. He is
pleased with himself. Out of nowhere, a firm hand grasps his
right shoulder stopping him.
Mackelway turns abruptly, finding himself sandwiched between
his Yukon and Charlton, who is now in his face.
CHARLTON
Listen to me Cowboy. You have any idea
the kind of favors I had to pull with the
Abilene cops to cover your ass?!
MACKELWAY
Sir...
CHARLTON
(not allowing him to talk)
Breaking and ENTERING the Speck house
without a shred of evidence and NO
WARRANT?!
MACKELWAY
(not going down without a
fight)
The sample I took from Speck's bumper...
It's crystallized sulfuric acid mixed with
oil of Clove, the clove neutralizes the
odor of the acid.
Charlton shakes his head, he is not getting through.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
It was SPECK not his killer who was
hiding something.
CHARLTON
Ever ask yourself why a big shot agent
from Dallas gets sent down to the
Wichita Falls Field Office? I'll give
you TWO WORDS... Hell I'll even write it
down for ya.
Charlton leans in to emphasize his point. He pulls out a pad
and pencil from his breast pocket and writes what he says using
Mackelway's chest as support. It's humiliating.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
"EVIDENTIARY PROCEDURE." Don't talk about
it. Learn it.
Those words just hang there, haunting Mackelway. Charlton
tears off the sheet with those two words and stuffs them into
Mackelway's hand.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
Turns out you were right about this guy.
You were right about both of them. But
that doesn't change the fact that you
went about your business like a rookie.
Got it?
Charlton turns, the buzz of a street lamp breaks the silence
throwing a circle of light around the Yukon. Mackelway watches
as Charlton puts on his headlights and drives away.
A sudden gust of wind tears that piece of paper out of
Mackelway's hand, he stares at it, as it disappears into
darkness.
103 INT. FBI OFFICE - THE O'RYAN ROOM - EVENING 103
Everything yet known about the murders of Speck, Fulcher, and
Starkey fills the wall space in here:
We see O'Ryan's MAP: All those yellow pins... and the one blue
one, (Greenville, Tx.) Also, that DRAWING: of the ghastly
Ziploc bags inside a steamer trunk. Damn thing seems prescient
now.
Agents mill about, awaiting a conference.
GRIEVES
(passing by)
Nice job, Mack.
MACKELWAY
Thanks.
A few OTHER AGENTS also pat him on the back. Fran's proud of
him too - we can see it. In fact everyone in here seems to be
giving Mackelway his due. It all feels good.
Charlton enters.
CHARLTON
Seated please.
The agents find seats around the table. Charlton takes his
place at the head of it.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
(to the assembled:)
Okay. We've got a serial killer of serial
killers.
Fran scribbles something on a piece of paper: "What a genius!"
Slides it over. Mackelway conceals the note, as:
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
(still grand-standing)
He's a transient with a history of mental
illness. He also happens to think he's a
former agent of this Bureau. And he is
pursuing something that he calls "Suspect
Zero." Anybody got anything intelligent
to say?
Nobody's volunteering. There's just silence.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
(familiar refrain)
That's what I thought...
CUT TO:
104 OMIT 104
105 EXT. WICHITA FALLS FBI OFFICE - PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105
Mackelway exits the office, heading for his Yukon.
Then he stops... because Katie is waiting out here, leaning
against her Toyota Camry.
MACKELWAY
(fondly)
Hey.
KATIE
Somethin', huh? Guy with a wife and kids
keepin' bodies in his attic?
He nods... but what is she doing out here?
MACKELWAY
Yeah.
(a beat)
You okay?
KATIE
Yeah. Just... Wondered if you could do me
a favor.
Mackelway waits... as Katie hands over a manila envelope.
Mackelway opens it.
Inside, a photo of a heartbreakingly-sweet 22 year-old girl
named KAREN SUMPTER, with an attached sheet listing her
vitals: height, weight, age, etc.
Another face. Another disappearance...
KATIE (CONT'D)
Her name's Karen Sumpter. We were
friends.
(almost reluctantly)
She disappeared last year. Nobody knows
where. She was a little wild, but not
like that.
Her sadness is obvious. Mackelway nods.
KATIE (CONT'D)
Anyway, I know you're gonna be in on the
autopsies - of the girls they found over
at Speck's. Figured you might see if one
of 'em was...
Her voice trails off. This is hard.
KATIE (CONT'D)
If it is, I'd like to be the one to
notify her folks. Out families've been
friends for years.
MACKELWAY
(gently)
Sure. Of course.
KATIE
Thanks... 'Night.
Mackelway puts the envelope under his arm. She starts up the
Camry. The sky rumbles. He eyes her.
For some reason, she hasn't pulled away yet...
SMASH CUT TO:
106 INT. KATIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 106
Candles. Shadows on the wall...and Mackelway and Katie, at it
again, with the sounds of that eery Navajo CHANTING coming
from the boom-box.
Mackelway is studying her, staring into her eyes, her
breathing. She's beginning to climax now... and those eyes go
wider. We MOVE INTO THEM, and:
We are abruptly SLAMMED, again, INTO ANOTHER SET OF THOSE ODD,
DISJOINTED IMAGES from that unidentified place:
107 EXT. DARKNESS - UNIDENTIFIED TIME - NIGHT 107
Wet wind in a blur of gray. The sound of our own heavy
breathing. A voice rising above the wind, pleading:
(O.S.)
Please...
108 INT. KATIE'S BEDROOM - RESUMING 108
She is utterly lost now. And that CHANTING seems to have
gotten louder somehow.
IMAGES FLICK at us now: culled from that BOOK on TRIBAL RITUAL
AND TRANCE, found at the halfway house: a TRIBESMAN with eyes
rolling back in his head, foaming at the mouth.
Mackelway tries to shake it off, tries to keep his focus on
Katie. He buries his head into her neck, as:
109 EXT. WHEAT FIELD - NIGHT 109
Tall wheat, wet wind. Then a MUZZLE FLASH, and a body slumping
to the ground. And suddenly we are in:
110 INT. ANOTHER UNIDENTIFIED MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - NIGHT 110
O'Ryan, at a desk. He has just "remote viewed" these images
somehow. And they've left him rattled.
It's time to get out of this room. Quickly.
CUT TO:
111 EXT. ROAD - DENTON, TEXAS - SAME (NIGHT) 111
A stolen, non-descript CHEVY pulls out of a motel room parking
lot, on to the street.
112 INT. STOLEN CAR - DRIVING - CONTINUING 112
O'Ryan is behind the wheel, driving.
113 INT. STOLEN CAR - DRIVING - MOMENTS LATER (DUSK) 113
The radio is BLASTING - anything to shake those images out of
his head. Driving, unsettled... which may be why he doesn't
notice that there's a SIREN wailing behind him.
He looks in the rear-view. A TEXAS STATE TROOPER is on his
tail. Shit. O'Ryan tightens, pulling over...
114 INT./EXT. STOLEN CAR - ROADSIDE - CONTINUING 114
The TROOPER approaches, noting the condition of the vehicle.
He stands before O'Ryan's window. O'Ryan's face reveals no
evidence at all of anxiety.
TROOPER
Evening.
O'RYAN
Evening, Officer.
TROOPER
See your license, Sir?
O'RYAN
'Course. Is there a problem?
O'Ryan reaches into his back pocket, produces an I.D. Hands it
over.
Trooper eyes it. According to this i.d., we are now staring at
"James Garvey" from Littleton, Colorado. But the Trooper
doesn't seem too convinced.
TROOPER
See your registration, please?
O'RYAN
Sure.
O'Ryan opens up the glove compartment, starts searching
through it. But it's a stall, that's obvious.
TROOPER
Mind stepping out of the car, please?
O'Ryan pauses. There is no way in hell he's going to let
himself get deterred by a State Trooper. But he gets out.
115 EXT. ROADSIDE - CONTINUING 115
Trooper eyes him with caution. O'Ryan holds his hands in front
of his chest, keeping them visible to the guy.
O'RYAN
Officer, I am carrying something that
could be construed as a weapon. I'd like
to hand it over, voluntarily, so you
won't think I'm trying to conceal
anything. Would that be all right?
TROOPER
What kind of weapon, Sir?
O'RYAN
It's a hunting knife, right here on my
hip.
Trooper notes the shape of that large, sheathed KNIFE - the
one O'Ryan butchered Starkey with - visible beneath O'Ryan's
shirt.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
I was on my way to the woods. My gear's
in the trunk.
(Trooper doubts it)
Would you like me to hand it to you? I
don't know what the procedure is for
something like this.
TROOPER
Take the weapon off your hip, place it on
the ground, and kick it toward me.
O'RYAN
Happy to.
O'Ryan takes the knife off his hip. The size of it gets some
attention from the Trooper.
TROOPER
What exactly were you planning on
hunting, Sir?
O'RYAN
A fifty-foot shark.
No reply. O'Ryan drops the menacing knife to the ground and
kicks it toward the Trooper.
Trooper, slowly, kneels down to get it - never taking his eyes
off O'Ryan.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Ya know, I used to be in law enforcement
too.
TROOPER
(kneeling)
That right?
O'RYAN
Mmm-hmmm. FBI. 'Course this was some
years ago.
Trooper grabs the knife, straightens. Examines it.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Psy Ops. Classified.
TROOPER
Had anything to drink tonight, Sir? Under
medication of any kind?
An 18-WHEEL TRUCK rumbles by, distracting O'Ryan... rendering
him immobile for a moment.
TROOPER (CONT'D)
Sir?
O'RYAN
Oh. Sorry. Just found myself wondering
what was inside that truck.
TROOPER
Sir, I'm going to ask you to hand me the
keys to your vehicle, please.
O'RYAN
Of course.
O'Ryan opens the car door. We steal a look INSIDE.
...he's got a GUN under the front seat.
In a flash, that gun is in his hands and pointing right at the
forehead of that Trooper.
Trooper knows he's been had. And he knows that he's about to
die...
CUT TO:
116 OMIT 116
117 EXT. MACKELWAY'S APARTMENT - DOORWAY - EVENING 117
Mackelway approaches, carrying a greasy bag: another Frito Pie
and a soda. Fumbles with his keys... Then he notices
something, waiting on his doorstep.
It's a thick FILE, roughly 150 pages, in a FOLDER. The word
"MACKELWAY" is written across the front.
He leans down, opens the folder. The light is spotty out
here... but it's just strong enough to show us the expression
on his face: a look of pure awe.
118 INT. MACKELWAY'S APARTMENT - ENTRY - CONTINUING 118
The door bursts open. The greasy bag and the soda fall to the
floor. Mackelway hurries to a phone, clutching that file. He
dials hurriedly.
119 INTERCUT WITH/INT. FRAN'S CAR - SAME 119
We're in a PARKING LOT outside a WAL-MART. Fran's just thrown
a bag into her Ford Taurus. Her CEL-PHONE RINGS. She grabs it.
FRAN (INTO CEL)
Kulok.
MACKELWAY (INTO PHONE)
He really was FBI.
FRAN
Huh?
MACKELWAY
O'Ryan. He left his file on my doorstep.
Fran, he was FBI.
He can barely believe it himself, but we get a look at what
was in that file now; PAGES are splayed across Mackelway's
coffee table:
A copy of an FBI I.D. BADGE, xeroxed memoes, test scores,
citations, evaluations, reports. The entire career of Special
Agent Benjamin O'Ryan... in black and white.
FRAN
That's impossible.
MACKELWAY
I'm look at his whole history!
Citations, letters of commendation, even
his fucking test scores from Quantico.
The guy was an agent.
FRAN
I don't believe it.
MACKELWAY
Listen to me--
Then we hear a BEEP. Call-Waiting. Great.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Shit! Hold on.
That irritated her. Mackelway clicks over.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Yes?
O'RYAN (THRU PHONE)
Read anything interesting lately?
Mackelway's eyes go wide.
MACKELWAY
Where are you?
CLICK. O'Ryan's just hung up.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Shit!
He stares at the phone, then clicks over again, re-connecting
to Fran.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
That was him.
FRAN
He called you at home?
MACKELWAY
Yes.
BEEP. Call-Waiting again.
FRAN
Jesus. Call me back.
Mackelway clicks over again without saying goodbye.
MACKELWAY (INTO PHONE)
O'Ryan?
O'RYAN (THRU PHONE)
I've found him, you know.
MACKELWAY
Who?
O'RYAN
Zero.
MACKELWAY
Zero's a myth. You made him up.
O'RYAN
Myths don't kidnap little boys. Do they?
MACKELWAY
Do you?
Sounds like O'Ryan just laughed... Then, another curve:
O'RYAN
Was she pretty?
MACKELWAY
Huh?
O'RYAN
I could hear her moaning, right under the
Navajo chanting. Whole thing was
downright tribal. What's she look like?
That was unsettling. Very. Mackelway looks around feeling
violated, feeling "watched." He draws the blinds. Double bolts
the front door. Runs his hand under the window frame for any
kind of wire tapping.
But Mackelway won't allow himself to over-react. Not now, with
O'Ryan on the phone.
MACKELWAY
(calmly)
You tell me.
O'Ryan laughs. He liked that.
O'RYAN
Fair enough. We'll stick to business:
How'd ya like my old room?
MACKELWAY
Huh?
O'RYAN
"Hope House." You were there.
How the hell did he know that? It's unsettling.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Dyson re-paint it?
(no reply)
My room. Did he re-paint it?
MACKELWAY
Yeah. White.
O'RYAN
...But you saw what was underneath, of
course.
MACKELWAY
No. Tell me about it.
O'RYAN
No. You tell me.
CLICK. O'Ryan just hung up. Mackelway stares at the phone.
CUT TO:
120 INT. HOPE HOUSE - FOYER - NIGHT (9 P.M.) 120
More rain falls outside. Lightning too. Mackelway waits here.
Piper's in his usual spot in front of the TV. Dyson descends
the stairs, a bit testy tonight.
DYSON
Welcome back.
That had some edge. Mackelway doesn't reply.
CUT TO:
121 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM/HALLWAY - NIGHT 121
Mackelway stands in the center of this room, Dyson in the
doorway. That SINGER down the hall is at it again, off-key as
ever. Tonight it's the "Gilligan's Island" theme-song.
DYSON
I'll be in my office.
Dyson backs away, leaving the door ajar.
Now Mackelway is alone - eyeing the tiny bed, sink, window,
the leaky ceiling, the bucket, the peeling paint. This room is
heaving with energy...
He sits on the bed, checks his watch. 9:05 p.m.
Opposite this bed is that WALL, re-painted in industrial
white, with the hint of a shape underneath. It's what
Mackelway's come here to investigate. INTERCUT WITH...
122 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - SAME 122
O'Ryan sits at a desk: eyes closed, writing pad at his wrist.
On it, more of those unidentifiable lines become visible to
us. They're called IDEOGRAMS.
He holds the point of his pen down upon one of them, as if
receiving information from it, and we jump back into:
123 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM - RESUMING 123
Mackelway. Sitting. Staring. Outside this room we hear that
awful, toneless singing as it fills the hallway.
Mackelway rises, approaching that re-painted wall. He pulls
out his keys. Checks to see that no one's watching.
124 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - RESUMING 124
O'Ryan, his pen on that pad, his concentration total.
125 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM - RESUMING 125
We hear the singing, the TV, the rain, that bucket collecting
drips. Semi-darkness... until MORE LIGHTNING throws a burst of
white light against that wall.
A faint shape becomes visible, just beneath the white paint.
Then it vanishes again.
Using his keys, he begins to scratch away at the white paint.
It's an irrational thing to do - but in the context of the
last few days it makes an odd kind of sense.
Instantly, a hint of BLACK can be seen underneath...
126 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - RESUMING 126
O'Ryan, at that desk. Outside, he can hear an 18-WHEEL TRUCK
rumble by. He doesn't allow it to distract him.
127 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM - RESUMING 127
Mackelway scratches more of the white paint off of that wall.
More BLACKNESS appears beneath it. Then, a SOUND behind him.
He turns.
The door to this room just SHUT; someone outside must've
pushed it. He keeps scratching at the paint.
LIGHTNING rages outside. We PULL BACK, away from that wall,
which gives us the opportunity to see something that Mackelway
is too close to the wall to see for himself:
There is indeed an image beneath that thin coat of white
paint. It is the shape of a vast, black WAVE. A hand-painted
image as large as this wall itself.
Mackelway seems tiny by comparison, and the mere inch of black
that he has uncovered so far seems infinitesimal.
In fact, it almost look as if the wave is poised to swallow
him whole... and he can't even see it.
But we can. Must've taken O'Ryan days to paint something this
large. A vast, black wave. Evil itself...
And Mackelway, without meaning to, is about to unleash it.
128 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - RESUMING 128
O'Ryan, somehow, seems to be sensing what is going on in that
room. Or maybe he's just feeling the power of that wave, from
memory. Or maybe he's just plain crazy.
But he and Mackelway, on some unspoken psychic level, are
feeding one another...
129 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM - RESUMING 129
Mackelway chips away at that white paint, moving rapidly,
revealing more of the blackness underneath. We PUSH IN on it,
moving past Mackelway and his frantic scraping.
Then we're beneath that thin coat of white, and:
130 INT. INSIDE THE BLACK WAVE - UNDETERMINED TIME 130
Somehow, we've submerged into the wave itself. A black, tidal
force of nature.
And it is MOVING. Alive. We hear the SOUNDS of it: a sucking,
a yawning, as if a tide were drawing back just before
exploding forward.
The sounds blend in with the wind, the rain, the drops in that
bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're
along for the ride...
The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon.
It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward
edge, as if surfing it somehow.
131 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - RESUMING 131
O'Ryan reacts. Something just changed:
132 INT. INSIDE THE BLACK WAVE - RESUMING 132
The wave is rushing us forward with this speed and power of a
tsunami.
...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY.
133 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - RESUMING 133
O'Ryan just heard it too. Then new images come at him - but
they are, at first, GRAINY, CHOPPY...
134 EXT. UNIDENTIFIED PLAY AREA - SAME 134
The sounds of that wave become fainter, receding to the
background, giving way to that sound of laughter, and the
squeaking of a PLAY-SET SWING.
Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a
moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens:
We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels
like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images
appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness.
Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE.
135 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM - RESUMING 135
Mackelway has scraped away more of the white paint now -
enough to see the outline of the front edge of the black wave,
its lip. He continues.
136 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - RESUMING 136
O'Ryan tightens. We can't tell if he experiencing something
from the past, the present, the future...
137 EXT. PLAY-AREA - RESUMING 137
We WHIP AROUND quickly, getting a look into the diner itself.
There, through a window, we see a WOMAN, presumably Charlie's
mother. Her name's KATHLEEN, 40.
Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy
diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table.
138 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - RESUMING 138
O'Ryan, at his desk, seems to be getting all of this. And it
is agitating him. There's perspiration on his forehead.
139 EXT. PLAY AREA - RESUMING 139
The sound of that wave is still a presence. Charlie looks up
at us as he swings. His smile is pure, genuine.
We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy
with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie.
140 INT. MOTEL ROOM - RESUMING 140
O'Ryan keeps his eyes shut, his focus total... but every part
of him is becoming tense.
141 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM - RESUMING 141
Mackelway is beginning to perspire from the effort. More of
that wave is visible to him. But he doesn't step back to take
that in.
142 EXT. PLAY AREA - RESUMING 142
That swing is now EMPTY, dangling gently. And we're running
we know not where.
143 INT. MOTEL ROOM - RESUMING 143
O'Ryan's foot starts to tap: anxiousness, discomfort.
144 EXT. PLAY AREA - RESUMING 144
We run... toward a PARKING LOT. But we do so smoothly, without
effort, as if being carried by that relentless black wave.
Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back
door, which leads on to that Play Area.
And we hear a horrified yell:
KATHLEEN (O.S.)
Charlie?! Charlie, where are you, Honey?!
(fainter)
Charlie?! Honey, are you out here?!
The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken
over by the sounds of that awful WAVE...
145 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM - RESUMING 145
Mackelway suddenly stops... as if some electric charge had
just shot through him, short-circuiting him into stillness. He
begins to step away from the wall.
146 INT. MOTEL ROOM - RESUMING 146
O'Ryan has lost the "pulse" - the connection that had allowed
him inside what we just witnessed.
He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT
WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles -
the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching.
147 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM - RESUMING 147
Mackelway sits on the bed, looking at what he's just
uncovered. An awesome sight. His head is pounding worse than
ever... so he reaches for the Vicoden.
148 EXT. PLAY-AREA - RESUMING 148
We've stepped out of that SUBJECTIVE POV now. Kathleen grabs
her infant, distraught, as another massive 18-WHEEL TRUCK
blows by us in the distance...
149 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DENTON, TEXAS - RESUMING 149
O'Ryan washes his face, eyes his reflection in the mirror,
scrutinizing himself.
150 INT. HOPE HOUSE - O'RYAN'S FORMER ROOM - RESUMING 150
On the wall opposite Mackelway, that huge black wave is now
entirely visible to him. Bits of chipped white paint litter
the floor.
A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall...
Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning.
He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible.
CUT TO:
...a box, slamming down hard on a desk. We are:
151 INT. FBI OFFICE - O'RYAN ROOM - LATE NIGHT 151
2:30 a.m. Mackelway is in here by himself, angry. He reaches
into that box. Inside? More pins. BLACK ONES. He crosses to
the map.
152 CLOSE-UP: MACKELWAY 152
He starts pulling out the YELLOW PINS we've grown accustomed
to seeing on this map, replacing them with the BLACK ONES,
tossing the discards onto the floor.
153 A SERIES OF DISSOLVES 153
...as Mackelway replaces pin after pin.
...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map.
154 INT. FBI OFFICE - O'RYAN ROOM - LATER NIGHT 154
Ten minutes have passed, but Mackelway has seen a revelation.
We can read it on his face.
He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000
BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its
credit.
And those black pins, seen from a distance, form a pattern we
weren't expecting - something that never quite took shape when
the pins were yellow.
Looks like a big black WAVE. And that's just what it is.
1,000 black dots conspiring to form the same exact shape that
O'Ryan had painted onto the wall of his room - a massive wave
of darkness, gathering strength.
But this black wave is consuming America...
Mackelway stares at it: awed, even a bit frightened. The thing
seems vast, unstoppable... A black wave - pure malevolence,
covering the states like a fog.
One blue dot lies in its center: that blue pin, in the heart
of Greenville, Texas. Then, piercing the silence:
CHARLTON (O.S.)
Got one of those pins in Denton yet?
Mackelway turns. Charlton leans in the doorway.
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
O'Ryan was spotted there tonight. Took a
squad-car and a side-arm from a State
Trooper. 'Bout an hour later a five-year
old boy was abducted, roughly a mile up
the Interstate.
It's 3 a.m. What's this guy doing here?
CHARLTON (CONT'D)
The vehicle was found in an abandoned
lot. We're establishing a perimeter
around the city now.
MACKELWAY
(knows already)
But the Trooper wasn't hurt...
CHARLTON
What makes you so sure?
MACKELWAY
Professional courtesy.
Charlton's at a loss... until Mackelway gestures to the table,
where he has laid out O'Ryan's entire FBI File. Every memo,
citation, letter, i.d. picture. 150 pages.
Charlton eyes it, calmly. He's not going to let his jaw drop,
not with Mackelway watching. So he just nods.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Is that... possible, Sir? An agent can
just be deleted?
CHARLTON
Looks like it.
Mackelway pauses. It's a depressing reality...
MACKELWAY
I couldn't understand it before - pushing
Speck's car onto the state line. Makes
sense now. He wanted to make the case
Federal. He's drawing us in.
CHARLTON
Why would he do that?
MACKELWAY
So we'd be paying attention when he found
Suspect Zero.
CHARLTON
Ya know what? I'm getting extremely tired
of hearing that word. In fact, that's
gonna be policy from now on. No Zero.
MACKELWAY
Sir, profile the guy. He's straight outta
Quantico. All he's doing is working a
case, like we would. He's not kidnapping
little kids - he's chasing the guy who's
doing the kidnapping! Look at the map!
CHARLTON
What're you saying - that all these
abductions are the work of one guy? Do
you know how fucking insane that is?!
(over Mackelway)
Not let's try something that actually
makes sense: He sends in these faxes,
picks off three scumbags. For what?! So
we'll think exactly what you're thinking
right now - that we've got a friend out
there, somebody willing to take out the
garbage for the rest of us. And it's all
horse-shit!
MACKELWAY
What if it isn't? What if there really is
a Zero out there and O'Ryan's the one guy
who's got a shot at him?
CHARLTON
(just blew his top)
Fuck's sake, Mackelway - when did you
start buying into this guy?!
A beat. Mackelway lets the silence hover.
MACKELWAY
(quietly)
He's smarter than we are.
CHARLTON
Speak for yourself.
Charlton heads for the door.
MACKELWAY
Sir? What if I told you I knew how to
catch him?
Charlton stops. Turns.
CHARLTON
Do you?
MACKELWAY
And what if I told you that the way I'd
catch him involved sitting in a dark
room, with nothing in front of me but a
pad of paper... until I'd tapped into
some kind of... energy out there. The
collective unconscious. Something. If I
told you I thought I could target and
locate him, without ever leaving this
building, what would you say?
CHARLTON
I'd say you'd watched too many "X-Files."
MACKELWAY
Y'ever heard of a project called
"Icarus," Sir?
CHARLTON
No.
Mackelway tosses over a few pages from O'Ryan's file.
MACKELWAY
Agents, trained to "see" distant
locations using nothing but the mind.
They called it Remote Viewing.
Charlton eyes the pages without comment.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Army stole it from the Soviets. The
Bureau stole it from the Army - used it
to track serial killers.
(a beat)
Experimental program. O'Ryan was the
first agent they recruited.
CHARLTON
Good for him.
MACKELWAY
Voodoo, right? Pure Bullshit.
(Charlton's waiting)
...except, it worked. It's how he drew
this:
Mackelway's referring to that DRAWING: a steamer-trunk, filled
with ghastly Ziploc bags:
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
He'd never been in that house before. He
just saw what was in there - the Bureau
taught him how... same one that deleted
him. Same one that's trying to catch him
now... Does anything about all this
strike you as odd?
Charlton studies him, a long beat, measuring him... Then:
CHARLTON
I'm going to Denton at Oh-Six-Hundred.
You can take the day off.
With that, he's gone - leaving Mackelway alone in here.
Nothing to look at but that black wave... He hears Charlton,
leaving the building.
He slams another Vicoden, then hears a PHONE RING. Fuck it.
He's not moving. Let Voice Mail get it.
...until he hears the sound of a FAX coming in.
He rises. Follow him:
155 INT. FBI OFFICE - CUBICLES - CONTINUING 155
Mackelway hurries through the office, as the sound of that fax
grows louder.
156 INT. "FAX ROOM" - CONTINUING 156
He enters. The fax has spun out a single sheet. No top-sheet.
That's odd...
But here's another face, another victim, with the customary
HAVE YOU SEEN ME? across the top.
A young African-American boy: "Lloyd Simms, Age 9. Ht. 4'10",
Wt. 67 lbs. Last Seen: Greenville, Texas. Date of
Disappearance: 10-26-99."
That's it. One face. The transmission ends. Mackelway eyes
those vitals. They mean something. Greenville...
157 INT. FBI OFFICE - O'RYAN'S ROOM - RESUMING 157
He re-enters, and approaches that huge MAP. There's that wave
of black pins, with the one BLUE PIN in its center;
Greenville, with a "10-26" written beside it.
Mackelway pulls out the lone blue pin, replaces it with a
black one. Now the wave is complete. All black...
CUT TO:
158 INT. 18-WHEELER - CAB - MOVING - NIGHT 158
We've seen this truck before - several times in fact. It
rumbles along the highway. We don't see who's driving, but we
do see who's in the passenger seat:
It's Charlie, five years-old, whose abduction we just
witnessed. He sleeps fitfully.
A MAN'S HAND can be seen, edging into frame - the DRIVER. He
picks up a CASSETE, shoves it into the tape deck.
And out comes the sound of "Barney the Dinosaur."
BARNEY (THRU DASHBOARD STEREO)
Oh silly songs get sillier/When you hear
them once again/And maybe you're hearing
an echo/Or maybe it's only a friend!
The truck continues to rumble along.
CUT TO:
159 INT. FBI OFFICE - OUTSIDE THE O'RYAN ROOM - MORNING 159
6 a.m. Fran pauses outside the O'Ryan Room... where Mackelway
sleeps on a chair. Poor guy was here all night.
She regards him... then her eyes find that MAP, and the gaping
black wave across it. A horrible image...
She studies Mackelway again, almost tenderly, until:
CHARLTON (O.S.)
Does he listen to you?
She turns, startled. Here's Charlton, right behind her. And
she's been caught... watching Mackelway sleep.
FRAN
I'm sorry?
CHARLTON
It's not a strength of his. I'm noticing
that lately.
Truth is, she doesn't like Charlton. Or trust him...
FRAN
He's fine.
CHARLTON
I'm not so sure.
(a beat)
You oughtta sit him down, remind him how
a chain-of-command works.
FRAN
He's fine, Sir.
CHARLTON
Talk to him.
With that, he's gone. Fran watches as he heads for the Front
Door... and exits.
She looks back to Mackelway. He awakens with a start. Thinking
no one's watching, he pops another Vicoden.
160 INT. O'RYAN ROOM - CONTINUING 160
Fran enters, feeling slightly dirty from that exchange.
Mackelway checks his watch as a few AGENTS exit the suite.
MACKELWAY
They going to Denton?
FRAN
Mmm-hmm.
MACKELWAY
But not you?
FRAN
Sitting in on two autopsies.
MACKELWAY
Oh.
He rises. Heads for the door, stiff. She looks at those O'Ryan
FBI DOCUMENTS NOW - her first time seeing them...
FRAN
You okay?
MACKELWAY
Yeah. Why?
FRAN
Nothing.
She leaves it at that. He's about to exit, when:
MACKELWAY
Are they male or female?
FRAN
Huh?
MACKELWAY
The autopsies.
FRAN
Females - Logan, Utah; and Decatur,
Alabama.
(Neither city is represented with black pins on that map.)
She slides over a packet of PHOTOS: two FEMALE VICTIMS,
photographed in separate morgues - face up, face down, waist
and above, waist and below, etc.
Mackelway eyes them, then leaves the room. We STAY WITH
FRAN... taking in that O'Ryan FBI file. It troubles her.
Mackelway returns, carrying the 9-by-12 envelope that Katie
gave to him.
FRAN (CONT'D)
(re: O'Ryan's file)
So is this what happens when an agent
spins out? He gets deleted?
MACKELWAY
Sometimes. The lucky ones get sent to
Wichita Falls.
She breathes out an ironic laugh. He hands over the envelope,
opens it. Inside: that photo of Karen Sumpter. Mackelway
didn't pay much attention to it before.
Fran eyes the photo, then the vitals.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Friend of the Receptionist, missing for
about a year now. I told her I'd let her
know if the body ever turned up.
Fran doesn't look up from the photo.
FRAN
The Receptionist.
MACKELWAY
Her name's Katie.
She half-smiles: "You mean the one you've been fucking?" He
shrugs, confirming nothing - wishing Fran weren't quite so
smart. She puts the photo back into the envelope.
FRAN
I see you got the blue pin out of
Greenville.
MACKELWAY
Yeah. Last night. Kid named Simms.
That confused her.
FRAN
(re: Sumpter)
No. I meant her. The girl.
That confused him.
MACKELWAY
What're you talking about?
FRAN
Did ya look at her vitals?
She hands him the material on Karen Sumpter.
FRAN (CONT'D)
Greenville, Texas. October 26.
He grabs the material, looks at it for the first time:
"Karen Sumpter, Age 25. Ht. 5'6", Wt. 110. Eyes Blu, Hair
Blnd. Last Seen: Greenville, Tx. Date of Disappearance: 10-26-
00."
Mackelway looks to the Conference Table - that huge stack of
faxes, all those helpless faces.
The one on top is the one that came in last night: Lloyd
Simms, Age 9. Ht. 4'10", Wt. 67 lbs. Last Seen: Greenville,
Texas. Date of Disappearance: 10-26-99.
At last, a pattern. A break.
Mackelway grabs the Simms fax, hurries out of the room.
Nearest Agent is Grieves. Mackelway hands him the fax.
MACKELWAY
Need an address on this fax line.
Grieves has done this on fifty different faxes now; it never
yields their suspect, but:
GRIEVES
'Kay.
Mackelway leans back in to the O'Ryan Room.
MACKELWAY
O'Ryan's in Greenville.
FRAN
What makes you think so?
MACKELWAY
That's where Zero is.
(Fran's a blank)
Lloyd Simms - October 26, '99. Karen
Sumpter - October 26, 2000. Both
disappeared from Greenville.
(still no reply)
Zero comes back to the same spot, once a
year. Today's the 25th.
FRAN
Wait. When did we establish that Zero was
real?
MACKELWAY
O'Ryan thinks so.
FRAN
Do you?
That's the million-dollar question, and it hangs there.
Mackelway's about to answer... when he stops himself. Just
noticing something. That MORGUE PHOTO from Logan, Utah:
There's a BURN MARK on the lower left calf of the victim.
We've seen such a mark before, on another autopsy photo.
MACKELWAY
I've seen this before.
FRAN
Huh?
He doesn't answer, just hurries to a thick BOX OF OTHER
AUTOPSY FILES AND PHOTOS. Starts rifling through them...
...until he finds the one we've seen before. The body from
Trenton. He extracts it. Eyes it. A confirmation...
He lays the two PHOTOS side by side. Looks to Fran.
MACKELWAY
Same burn-mark.
(she leans in)
I saw it before but it didn't register.
Fran eyes the photos. No doubt about it - they both have the
same burn mark on the lower left calf: a symmetrical, almost
horizontal stripe across the flesh.
FRAN
He burns them?
MACKELWAY
I dunno. Almost looks too symmetrical to
be a burn.
(re: Logan victim)
They're autopsying her this morning?
FRAN
Yeah.
She gets the idea: "Find out where the hell this mark on the
leg came from." Grieves enters.
GRIEVES
Fax number traces back to a Copy Center
on I-30. Greenville.
(Mackelway eyes his watch)
I called. They don't open for another
hour.
Mackelway looks to Fran. She's not entirely sold yet... but
she's getting there.
CUT TO:
161 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - DRIVING - EARLY MORNING 161
Mackelway plows along I-30.
Ahead of him, one hell of an ugly STORM-FRONT seems to be
waiting. Thick, black clouds. Mackelway's driving right into
the teeth of them...
CUT TO:
162 EXT. "FAST-COPY" - ESTABLISHING - DAY 162
A copy-place, right off I-30. Mackelway's Yukon is parked in
front.
163 INT. "FAST-COPY" - COUNTER - DAY 163
Mackelway stands opposite a DAY-MANAGER: 30, harried, eyeing a
copy of the composite drawing of O'Ryan.
DAY-MANAGER
(re: O'Ryan)
Naah. I never saw that guy in here.
MACKELWAY
He sent a fax from this location 'bout
seven o'clock this morning.
DAY-MANAGER
We're closed at seven.
MACKELWAY
Are your faxes programmable? Could he
have paid last night to have it sent this
morning?
DAY-MANAGER
Sure. But that costs extra.
MACKELWAY
Were you here last night?
DAY-MANAGER
Nope. Haven't done nights since I got
promoted.
Mackelway eyes the guy... then hears a CEL-PHONE ring.
MACKELWAY
'Scuse me.
Mackelway grabs his cel, backing away from the counter.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
(into cel)
Mackelway.
164 INTERCUT WITH/INT. MORGUE - SAME 164
Fran is at a phone, in the Morgue. The Logan Utah BODY lies on
the table.
FRAN
It's not a burn. It's a freezer-burn.
MACKELWAY
You're sure.
FRAN
There's crystallization in the blood
stream. The blood never clotted in the
wound. It's a freezer burn... I'm having
the other body shipped out - the guy from
Trenton. We'll see if he's got the same
thing.
Mackelway pauses, thinking...
MACKELWAY
So... he keeps the bodies in a freezer,
then buries them...?
That was a question. He can't do any better.
FRAN
I dunno. If he kept them in a freezer
they'd have marks like this all over.
Wouldn't they?
Mackelway nods - that made sense. Shit.
The noise of the Interstate doesn't make things any easier. A
huge TRUCK rumbles by. 18 wheels.
Mackelway eyes it, absently. Then a bolt hits him:
On the side of the truck is a trademark: "EVER-FROST." This
truck is hauling ice cream.
Things just began to click.
MACKELWAY
Thanks, Fran.
He has hit "End" before she can reply. Heads to his Yukon.
Fran eyes the phone: that was odd...
CUT TO:
165 EXT. TRUCK STOP - GREENVILLE, TX. - ESTABLISHING - NOON 165
A huge lay-out, with a diner, rest-stop, and gas station.
166 INT. DINER - GREENVILLE - SAME 166
Mackelway sits at a table by a window. Watching. FIFTY MASSIVE
TRUCKS in this lot - some refrigerated, most not.
This Diner is big enough to seat 200: truckers, a few
families, and folks who just like the buffet, (gravy covers
just about every entree.)
Mackelway's been here for hours. A WAITRESS comes by.
WAITRESS
You want some more breakfast, Honey, or
are we just rollin' right on into lunch?
MACKELWAY
Just some coffee, thanks. Might hit the
buffet in a bit.
WAITRESS
Meatloaf's lookin' good today.
He smiles, thanks. She turns away. That leaves him alone
again, scanning - not even sure he's in the right place.
CEL-PHONE RINGS. He grabs it.
MACKELWAY (INTO PHONE)
Mackelway.
167 INTERCUT WITH/INT. FRAN'S CAR - DRIVING - SAME 167
She's driving, talking into the cel...
FRAN (INTO PHONE)
What're you doing?
MACKELWAY
Surveilling. What're you doing?
FRAN
Driving to Greenville.
MACKELWAY
(knows already)
Why would you be doing that?
FRAN
I think agents are safer when they have
some company. I can send along Katie if
you'd rather.
Mackelway laughs. He appreciates a good jab.
MACKELWAY
I'm at the truck-stop we traced. Off the
I-30.
FRAN
I'm 'bout a half hour out.
MACKELWAY
I'll order some lunch for you. Hear the
meatloaf's good today.
She half-smiles. She likes him, despite herself.
168 DINER - MACKELWAY - RESUMING 168
He half-smiles, puts the cel-phone away. He likes her, despite
himself.
Then a MAN passes by him, a trucker. Let's call him VIC.
All we see as he passes is the TATTOO on his forearm: a cobra.
Keys jingle on his belt-hook. He wears a sleeveless down vest
and a "God Bless America" cap.
Mackelway turns, but Vic's already past us.
Something about him attracts Mackelway's attention. The walk,
the attitude. Something.
So Mackelway is watching - without really knowing why - as Vic
crosses the parking lot, heading for his rig. It's a beast.
Vic climbs in, unaware that he's being watched.
Mackelway looks away, chiding himself for allowing the guy to
distract him. That WAITRESS comes by with more coffee.
Mackelway smiles, looking absently out the window again.
And sees a LITTLE BOY of 5, in the cab of Vic's rig...
But this little boy is SCREAMING, struggling to get out of his
car-seat, until Vic grabs the kid by the shoulders, roughly...
all of this visible through the windshield.
Mackelway locks in on the kid. Holy shit...
Vic's rig pulls out. The kid pounds on his window. Looks like
he's saying "Lemme out of here! I want my Mommy!" He might be
little Charlie - we can't tell from here.
But we can see that Vic is yelling at him: "Shut up!"
And we can see that Vic's truck is refrigerated. He's hauling
dairy products.
On a normal day, Mackelway might shrug this off as
coincidence. He might not be so vigilant.
This isn't a normal day. He races for the door.
169 EXT. TRUCK-STOP - PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER 169
Mackelway backs out in the Yukon, trying to keep a visual on
Vic's truck.
ANOTHER 18-WHEELER pulls in front of him, blocking his view
entirely.
MACKELWAY
Dammit!
He honks - loud - pulls around that other 18-wheeler, heading
for the exit of the lot.
Just spotted Vic's rig again.
170 EXT. ROAD/INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - CONTINUING 170
He follows Vic's rig out of the lot and onto a road
approaching I-30. But there are three cars between them -
Mackelway can't get a clean look at Vic's license plate.
Vic approaches the Interstate. So do the three cars between
them.
Vic passes the Interstate on-ramp. The three cars turn on to
it... putting Mackelway right on Vic's tail.
He grabs his cel, dials. This truck has license plates from
ten states.
MACKELWAY (INTO CEL)
This is Mackelway. I need a run down on a
plate. Texas: Delta-142-Romeo-Victor-
Alpha. Got that?
He puts the cel down, but doesn't hang up. Vic just made a
turn onto a VAST DIRT LOT.
A huge BANNER overhead reads, "FOUNDERS DAY CARNIVAL!!!"
171 EXT. CARNIVAL - PARKING LOT - CONTINUING 171
There are several BIG-RIGS parked here, but the vast majority
of the vehicles we see are garden-variety cars and SUV's. A
few pick-ups.
There are RIDES at this carnival: Pony rides, a ferris wheel,
and a huge ring of Barbeques, each fired up and cooking. Must
be a thousand people in attendance today.
Vic parks his rig. Mackelway hangs back, watching:
Vic gets out of the rig. From here we can see that that 5-year-
old BOY is still stick in his car seat, and he is still
screaming and flailing.
Vic points a stern finger at the kid as if to say, "Behave or
else." Then Vic disappears into the crowded carnival.
172 EXT. MACKELWAY - AT HIS CAR - RESUMING 172
He gets out of the Yukon, approaching Vic's truck. We CROSS
THE LOT WITH HIM.
He reaches Vic's truck, looks in the passenger window. There's
the five year-old kid, tears streaming down his face. (We
still can't tell if it's Charlie.)
Mackelway reaches for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of
course. And he can't shoot his way in.
He looks to the kid inside:
MACKELWAY
You okay?
(Kid's a blank)
Kid? You okay in there?
The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit...
Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still
visible to us, but he won't be for long.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
(at the Kid)
I'll be back. Don't worry.
Mackelway heads into the carnival.
173 EXT. CARNIVAL - CONTINUING 173
He begins running now, past the table where ladies are selling
TICKETS for the rides and games, past the Cotton-Candy Guy.
Running... because we just lost sight of Vic.
Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a
tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that
Vic on the other side of it?
Mackelway takes off.
174 EXT. FERRIS WHEEL - CONTINUING 174
No Vic. But Mackelway thinks he sees the guy... heading back
in the direction of the parking lot.
He runs past the Pony rides, past a funhouse, past a popcorn
machine, past those ladies selling tickets.
175 EXT. PARKING LOT - RESUMING 175
He hits a bottleneck of people at the entrance. But he bursts
through, runs into the dirt parking lot, around cars and big-
rigs, then turns a corner and:
...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan.
The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to
recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away.
Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A
second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to
face with O'Ryan.
And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused.
O'RYAN
Well, well... Must be quite a moment for
you. Congratulations.
Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until:
MACKELWAY
What're you doing here?
O'RYAN
Waiting for you.
...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right
in front of Vic's rig.
But he wasn't expecting what comes next:
Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns
out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door,
unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat.
FIVE YEAR-OLD
Mommy!
The kid dives into the Woman's arms.
WOMAN
Morning, Baby!
VIC
I told you she'd be here.
(to Woman)
He's been a brat all morning.
Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread
things, badly.
And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin.
MACKELWAY
(at O'Ryan)
Hands up.
O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs.
CUT TO:
176 EXT. CARNIVAL - PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER 176
O'Ryan's hands are cuffed in front of him. Mackelway leads him
to the Yukon, opens a door for him, and puts him into the
backseat. A few LOOKIE-LOU'S strain for a peek.
177 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - CONTINUING 177
Mackelway gets in, hits the ignition. Reaches for his cel-
phone. Starts to dial.
O'RYAN
(disappointed)
Awfully conventional - don't ya think?
Mackelway pauses.
MACKELWAY
Huh?
O'RYAN
Apprehend the fugitive, then call it in
for your pat on the head.
MACKELWAY
Sorry to disappoint you.
Mackelway continues to dial.
O'RYAN
I'll get over it.
(flat)
But I'm not too sure that little boy
will.
Bang. That just stopped Mackelway, mid-dial.
MACKELWAY
(minor test)
What little boy?
O'RYAN
The one from the Diner, in Denton.
MACKELWAY
You know where he is?
O'RYAN
I can find him.
MACKELWAY
How?
O'RYAN
Same way I found Starkey, and Speck, and
Fulcher... and you.
That rang a bell.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
I need someplace quiet - someplace I can
concentrate... And your assurance that
once he's located, we go get him
together.
MACKELWAY
I can't do that.
O'RYAN
Then I can't help you.
Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot.
178 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - DRIVING - MOMENTS LATER 178
Through sparse traffic, heading for an Interstate on-ramp.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
I'm talking about uncompromised justice.
No trials. No lawyers. No hiccups in a
chain of evidence that can set a monster
free. You of all people should be able to
appreciate the value of that.
MACKELWAY
Where's the boy?
O'RYAN
I won't be doing this much longer.
Actually, this is the end of it. I've
come to accept that. But there is one
last thing to--
MACKELWAY
(anger rising)
Where's the boy, O'Ryan?
O'RYAN
Do we have an understanding?
Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and
out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Enough of this shit. Where's the boy?
O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased.
O'RYAN
Good. This is good. Sort of thing you'd
never find in a procedural manual. It
tells me I was right about you.
MACKELWAY
(cocking the hammer)
I will kill you, O'Ryan.
O'RYAN
I know. But we have work to do first.
MACKELWAY
Where's the Goddamn kid?!?!
Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran.
O'RYAN
Don't pick that up.
Mackelway eyes him: are you kidding? It rings again.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
(a panicked offer)
This is the guy who put all those pins in
that map of yours! And I can take you to
him!
Ring #3. Mackelway grabs the phone.
MACKELWAY
Fine. Where is he?
(silence)
Where is he?!?!
Silence, punctuated by Ring #4. Then O'Ryan smiles... and
points to his own forehead.
O'RYAN
Right here...
Mackelway lets out a disgusted sigh.
MACKELWAY
Fuck you.
He punches the "Talk" button, taking his eyes off O'Ryan for a
split second.
...What follows is a blur:
O'Ryan lunges forward like an animal, throwing his cuffed
wrists over Mackelway's head, yanking Mackelway out of his
seat with a violent tug. The gun falls.
We POP OUTSIDE THE YUKON, pulling back... obscuring our view
of what's going on inside that truck.
That cel-phone continues to ring... We keep pulling back,
under this sparsely-trafficked overpass, rain falling.
The cel-phone stops ringing. CONTINUE PULLING BACK, taking in
the expanse of highway - cars rolling by without a hint of the
peril beneath them...
CUT TO:
179 INT. TRUCK-STOP - DINER - GREENVILLE - SAME (DAY) 179
Fran has just arrived. She scans the place. Doesn't see
Mackelway. Great. She reaches for that cel-phone again...
CUT TO:
180 INT. A THIRD UNIDENTIFIED MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 180
Mackelway awakens. The room feels like it's swimming. His arms
and legs are bound. His mouth has been GAGGED.
And he is staring into his own REFLECTION.
He lies on his side. A MIRROR has been propped on the floor,
just inches from his face - leaving him with nothing to look
at but himself.
He strains against the ropes, but there's no give to them.
He's helpless, powerless. And that mirror is forcing him to
watch it all with perfect clarity.
A few feet away, O'Ryan sits in a chair, calmly peeling the
skin off of an apple with that huge HUNTING KNIFE of his. A
CANDLE flickers on the floor by his feet.
O'RYAN
Are you afraid?
There was a delight to that question - we can see it on
O'Ryan's face. Mackelway, of course, can't reply due to the
gag. But the answer's obvious.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
(quoting himself, as Daitz:)
"Imagine a killer with no patterns, no
tell-tale fetishes, no rituals of any
kind. No hidden desire to be caught. A
perfect vessel of evil."
All Mackelway can see is his own reflection - the fear in his
eyes - bouncing off a mirror that's only inches away.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
And the name we give that killer... is
Zero.
(again:)
Are you afraid?
Slowly, he lowers the knife into the flame of that candle on
the floor. It GLOWS. Good God...
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
It'd be customary at this point to start
praying. I hear a lot of that. Haven't
seen too many answers though. I wouldn't
hold my breath waiting for another
janitor to break in here and save you,
either. You're alone.
Mackelway tries to speak. It's impossible.
O'Ryan pulls the GAG from his mouth, just long enough for
Mackelway to say:
MACKELWAY
Where's the boy?
O'Ryan jams the gag back into his mouth, angrily.
O'RYAN
(re: the mirror)
My, my. Must be extremely satisfying to
watch yourself say something so heroic.
I'm almost envious.
(casually)
The boy's under the bed. In pieces. Are
you afraid?
Mackelway absorbs that - watches himself absorb it - then
looks to that bed. Can't quite see what's under it...
O'Ryan eyes the flames as they dance over the blade.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
I know what you're thinking: "There is
pain coming. Am I going to take it like a
man?" Let me put you at ease: You won't.
None of them do. Men, women, children.
They all weep, they all beg. They pass
out, they piss themselves. They attempt
negotiation: You wouldn't believe how
many men have lain right where you're
lying right now - grown men, with wives
and children back home - offering all
kinds of sexual gratification in exchange
for a five minute reprieve. It's
pathetic. Are you afraid?
(of course, no reply)
Then there's that moment when they
realize there's nothing left to be
negotiated. They're just mine. And
they're helpless. And the look in their
eyes, the level of surrender... well,
it's almost pornographic. I put this
mirror here because I don't want you to
miss it. Are you afraid?
With that, he lifts that hunting knife out of the flame. It is
RED-HOT. Even looking at it is painful.
But Mackelway can't look at anything else.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
How about now?
Just like that, that red-hot knife is an inch from Mackelway's
face. The heat alone makes his head jerk back. Wisps of smoke
rise from its edge.
And Mackelway is forced to watch his own reaction to it.
He struggles against these ropes, to no use. A guttural sound
comes out of him.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Are you afraid?
O'Ryan's hand lashes out a bit, leaving the sizzling knife
just under Mackelway's chin. The anticipation of pain is
unbearable. And Mackelway is reading it in his own eyes...
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Hmmm? Agent Mackelway? Are you?
Two things hit at once: 1) This monster is about to torture me
to death. 2) Please, God, don't let me give him the
satisfaction of seeing me cry...
O'Ryan moves the blade again, this time an eighth of an inch
above Mackelway's right arm. The heat from it is so incendiary
that Mackelway's shirt begins to smoke.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Are you?
Mackelway's shirt is officially on fire now. The pain is
awful. He stares at his own reflection.
...as tears begin to flow from his eyes. He can't stop them.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
(top of his lungs)
Are you afraid?!
That bounces off the walls. Mackelway shuts his eyes tight -
can't watch this anymore.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
(infuriated)
Open your eyes! Open your eyes Goddammit
or I'll cut the fucking lids off!!
Mackelway opens his eyes, forced to watch himself break. Deep
sobs shudder through him, as...
O'Ryan digs that red-hot blade into Mackelway's arm:
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
ARE YOU AFRAID?!?!
Mackelway sees the answer in his own reflection: Yes, I am
terrified. He SHRIEKS, the sound muffled by that gag.
With his body able to do no more than spasm, he jerks his head
forward, smashing it into that mirror. THE MIRROR SHATTERS,
obliterating the image.
...and everything goes black.
Then, MORE IMAGES SWARM AT US. We're helpless to beat them
back:
180a EXT. DARKNESS - UNIDENTIFIED TIME 180a
Out of a soupy darkness, a dreamlike spin on a location we've
visited before: It is the wheat field that O'Ryan has Remote
Viewed countless times. Only this time we see it through
Mackelway's fever, or nightmare... We see the tall wheat, the
wet wind - familiar images to us. All to the pounding Chant of
the Navaho.
But then OTHER IMAGES enter this world. They're jarring:
-That TRIBESMAN, eyes rolling back, foaming the mouth,
dancing around a fire in a frenzy. Then a curtain of wheat
obscures him, revealing:
-Fran, and Katie, giggling, crooking fingers as if inviting
us. Looks like they're naked. But as we approach them, they
seem to get farther away. Then that curtain of wheat that
separates us from them reveals:
-Charlton, extending a hand to us, warmly, congratulating us
for something, a job well done, when:
Mackelway himself is hunting through the wet wheat, gun drawn.
He FIRES... Then looks to see who he's just shot.
A body. He turns it over.
...and is staring at himself, lying dead on the ground in the
mud and pouring rain. It is a moment of shock and horror,
giving way as we...
181 FADE UP AGAIN... 181
...on O'Ryan - at a desk, sitting upright, making notes on a
pad. Calm. Businesslike. His back turned to us.
182 INT. THAT UNIDENTIFIED MOTEL ROOM - LATER NIGHT 182
Time has passed. We don't know how much. Or maybe we're dead,
or dreaming. It's hard to say...
But there's O'Ryan, at a desk. Writing...
Mackelway's eyes are open. His FOREHEAD has a bright red
raspberry on it from smashing into that mirror.
But the brain is functioning. It starts running through a
check-list:
I'm in the same motel room. I'm on a bed. I'm alive. There's
O'Ryan. Everything hurts. No, it's just my right arm. But it
is searing.
The check-list continues: my mouth is sore, but that GAG has
been removed.
And MY ARMS ARE UNBOUND. Legs too. Maybe I am dead.
Mackelway tries to move his hand. It takes some effort.
Everything's foggy. But he puts it before his face. Turns it.
Flexes it. Squeezes it. His hand... He stares at it.
Then he notices his SHOULDER. A fat BANDAGE has been wrapped
around it - covering up the source of that searing pain. Looks
as though a nurse had tended to it.
But this sure as hell isn't a hospital...
Then, O'Ryan turns, facing us. Mackelway recoils without
meaning to.
But O'Ryan's demeanor has changed. That look of possessed
malevolence - it's gone now. We can't imagine why.
O'RYAN
(softly)
Stand up.
Mackelway pauses, rewinding that one.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
It's over now. Can you stand?
Mackelway is still bracing for torture, or at least combat. So
he's a step behind.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
We really do have to go.
O'Ryan rises, crossing toward us. Even unbound, Mackelway is
expecting another onslaught... But all O'Ryan does is drop a
piece of paper onto Mackelway's lap.
It's another DRAWING: of a RANCH-HOUSE, with a windmill in the
background. Crude, but just specific enough. Mackelway's still
too unwound to speak...
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
This is where he'll be. With the boy.
(a beat)
Zero. He's coming home today. We're going
to be there.
Mackelway's starting to understand now. This was an act. An
initiation. That stuns him...
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
You're ready to come with me now. You've
been in the pit. Stand up.
Mackelway eyes him - utter disbelief.
O'Ryan smiles warmly - like a Drill Sergeant at the end of
Basic: Sorry I was so hard on you but it had to be done... Can
we shake on it?
Instead, Mackelway simply EXPLODES:
It is a blur, faster than a blur, but Mackelway rises with an
animal roar, knocking O'Ryan flat on his back.
Then Mackelway is upon him.
All the helplessness, all the horror, the images of watching
himself in that mirror, the sounds of his own uncontrollable
sobbing... they ERUPT now into violence.
It is an overwhelming force. O'Ryan can't begin to fight it
off. Mackelway has one hand on O'Ryan's throat. The other hand
comes down like a sledgehammer.
One blow. Then another. The sounds coming out of Mackelway are
savage, barely human. He's out of control.
O'Ryan's eyes roll back. Mackelway now puts both hands around
this fucker's throat. He's going to kill him - right here.
He's going to squeeze the life from him.
This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild,
hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out
of O'Ryan's throat.
Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than
a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own
twisted image.
He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined
to kill this guy.
...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again.
...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An
animal.
His hands, without warning, release their grip.
O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway
rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest.
That makes breathing a little easier.
Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM.
183 INT. MOTEL ROOM - BATHROOM - CONTINUING 183
Mackelway enters. There's a mirror in here too. That fat
BANDAGE on his shoulder stares back at him.
He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm -
revealing a hideous wound.
It's a ZERO, WITH A SLASH THROUGH IT.
Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him
with that red-hot knife.
Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes
some water on his face, his mind still reeling.
Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell -
face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat...
Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that
DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it.
Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the
drawing, without a word.
Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at
O'Ryan's face, just inches away.
We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage.
But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In
fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then:
O'RYAN
(re: gun)
Soon. I promise... But not yet.
He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then
O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the
front door.
Mackelway stands, rigid. He raises the gun. Maybe I'll just
shoot this fucker in the back.
Then those IMAGES come at us again, out of nowhere:
184 EXT. WHEAT FIELD - NIGHT 184
Out of a gray, soupy swirl - coming slightly into focus: Wet
wind, tall wheat, our own heavy BREATHING as we run... And
that non-descript voice we heard echoing earlier becomes the
sound of O'Ryan's voice, static-filled, wobbling:
O'RYAN (O.S.)
Please... I'm begging you.
That was clear enough. A gun rises. We seem to be holding
it...
Then those images vanish, and we are jolted back to:
185 INT. MOTEL ROOM - BATHROOM - RESUMING 185
Mackelway tightens. O'Ryan's out the door. This VISION that
keeps getting clearer and clearer... What the hell does this
it mean?
Down go two more Vicodens...
CUT TO:
186 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - DRIVING - NIGHT 186
A huge STORM devours scenery on both sides of us. O'Ryan
drives. Mackelway sits, no expression at all on his face,
still recovering from what happened in that room...
Silence... Then:
MACKELWAY
Tell me about Icarus.
O'RYAN
Why?
MACKELWAY
Just... wanna know.
O'Ryan eyes him. The sky is black.
O'RYAN
There were five of us. In the program.
Mackelway's all ears...
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
We'd come in in the morning, have a cup
of coffee, talk about the Yankees. Then
you'd go to your room, with your pen and
your pad of paper, always alone, and
you'd try to lock in. Son of Sam. John
Wayne Gacy. Ted Bundy. He might be
driving his car, or having a beer or
brushing his teeth... or cutting
someone's eyes out.
That was said flatly, matter-of-factly. It's chilling.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
If you did it right, you got all of it:
The way it sounded. The way it smelled...
Those people were looking up at you,
begging you for mercy. It was like being
God.
(a beat)
...except you're not. Because you can't
do a thing for them. Can't make it stop.
You're just watching, helpless.
He pauses.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
They wired us into this current, the five
of us: darkness, the pit itself. We were
plugged right into it. But nobody taught
us how to shut it off...
(thinking back...)
We were just men. And we saw things men
shouldn't see. Agony, torture, evil - and
it never shut off. Even now, it's still
there.
MACKELWAY
They all wind up like you? The other
agents?
O'RYAN
No. They're dead now.
Oh. Mackelway doesn't reply...
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
They broke down. Then they opted out.
(Mackelway's a blank)
Killed themselves... After a while, those
conversations about the Yankees became
impossible. Ya see?
Mackelway lets that sink in, as he stares at passing head-
lights. Then:
MACKELWAY
I'm sorry.
O'Ryan shrugs. He appreciates it. The windshield wipers beat
back rain...
CUT TO:
187 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - DRIVING - LATER NIGHT 187
O'Ryan continues to drive. Silence hangs. Then:
O'RYAN
We're here.
Mackelway sits up. O'Ryan pulls over at:
188 EXT. RANCH-HOUSE - GREENVILLE, TEXAS - CONTINUING 188
We've seen this place before. That is, we've seen it in
O'Ryan's DRAWING, which lies on the dashboard before us: A
ranch-style house with a WINDMILL in the backyard.
O'Ryan pulls over. Rain pounds on the roof and hood. Wind
blows. Mackelway studies the house. Then his eyes shift
briefly to the drawing.
MACKELWAY
Can't bring you in with me. You know
that.
O'Ryan shrugs, then raises his hands: "Cuff me."
The CUFFS are lying on the floor in the back seat. Mackelway
reaches back, to grab them... a golden opportunity for O'Ryan
to club the guy.
But O'Ryan remains still. Mackelway grabs them. Then he stops.
Simply has to ask:
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Those faxes, the Have-You-Seen-Me's...
How many of 'em is he actually
responsible for?
O'Ryan lays it right out:
O'RYAN
All of 'em.
Mackelway nods, sobered. Cuffs O'Ryan to the steering wheel
and approaches the house.
189 EXT. RANCH HOUSE - WALKWAY - CONTINUING 189
The place is in some disrepair: untended lawn, chipping paint,
etc. Mackelway looks through the kitchen window.
No one's visible. He walks around the side of the house.
190 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - RESUMING 190
O'Ryan watches as Mackelway vanishes. This is a moment of
opportunity. With his free hand, he reaches into his pocket,
grabbing a lighter.
191 EXT. RANCH HOUSE - SIDE - CONTINUING 191
Mackelway moves cautiously, being pelted by rain. But now he
can see inside the Living Room of this home:
It's a bit of a time warp: plastic on the furniture, an old
radiator, pictures on the mantle in antique frames.
And an OLD LADY, leaning over a record player.
Tough to hear what's playing - we're outside, and that storm
is pounding - but it sounds like Glenn Miller. There's also an
old tv in here: "Wizard of Oz" is on it.
The lady is 70, frail, thin. She also happens to be BLIND.
Cataracts on her eyes. Her name's DELIA. Mackelway watches
her... as she exits the room, heading for the kitchen.
He moves to another window.
192 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - RESUMING 192
O'Ryan, keeping his eyes on that house, now lights the
lighter... and holds the flame up to the CHAIN connecting his
hand-cuff to the one on the steering wheel.
The chain begins to heat up...
193 EXT. SIDE OF THE HOUSE - RESUMING 193
Mackelway watches as Delia makes her way into the kitchen.
It, too, is from another era: the dishwasher stands in the
center of the floor, connected to the sink with a long hose.
The refrigerator, the table, the toaster - all old.
The oven is an antique too. Delia crosses to it, grabs a
towel, opens it... and pulls a CAKE from it.
She brings the cake to the kitchen table, moving well for a
lady who can't see. On the table is an old-fashioned baker's
frosting tube.
She grabs it, using her hands to orient herself... and begins
to write on the cake, in frosting. Slowly.
Mackelway can't see the top of that cake, but we can. The
first letters, in beautiful cursive, read: "Happy Bir..." It's
a work in progress.
194 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - RESUMING 194
O'Ryan has that handcuff chain GLOWING now. We don't know if
he'll have time to break the thing... until:
The passenger-side door is opened, abruptly.
MACKELWAY
It's his birthday, isn't it?
O'Ryan turns. Here's Mackelway, who now gets an eyeful of what
O'Ryan's doing with that lighter.
O'Ryan pockets it, a bit sheepishly. Mackelway decides to
ignore the whole thing...
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
He comes home on his birthday.
O'Ryan nods. Then Delia's front door swings open.
DELIA (O.S.)
(aloud, delighted)
Darling?! That you?!
195 EXT. RANCH HOUSE - ENTRY - CONTINUING 195
Delia stands in the open doorway: an old blind lady, talking
to the dark rainy street. That confuses them.
...until we hear the rumble of an 18-WHEEL TRUCK.
It turns a corner onto this street. Mackelway turns now...
We've seen this truck before. A monstrous, rolling beast. And
Mackelway straightens, reaching for his sidearm. Behind him,
Delia smiles excitedly, almost dancing.
But that smile soon leaps from her face... as she hears the
sound of that 18-wheeler, BRAKING ABRUPTLY, its tires locking-
up on the wet road.
Mackelway gets a look at the DRIVER now - a wiry, sinewy man
of 35... Let's call him ZERO.
Their eyes lock - until Zero throws his rig into gear again
and begins to rumble down the street.
DELIA (CONT'D)
(confused)
Daryl? Honey?
No answer. That truck is rumbling away. Mackelway turns,
racing for the Yukon, leaving Delia at the door.
196 INT. MACKELWAY'S YUKON - CONTINUING 196
Mackelway jumps in to the Yukon, unlocking those cuffs.
MACKELWAY
Drive.
He accidentally burns himself on the super-heated chain.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
(re: burn)
Fuck!
Cuffs are unlocked now. O'Ryan starts up the Yukon.
197 EXT. GREENVILLE STREETS - DRIVING - CONTINUING 197
O'Ryan drives, pursuing the big-rig. Mackelway gets on his cel-
phone, dials. Rain falls in SHEETS all around them.
MACKELWAY (INTO CEL-PHONE)
(urgently)
This is Mackelway! I'm travelling north
on... Grove Road, approaching I-30 in
Greenville. Request immediate back-up.
Pursuing a suspect in a refrigerated
truck, Texas license plate Alpha--
The Yukon swerves hard to the right, narrowly avoiding the
tail end of Zero's rig as he swings it into our path.
Mackelway drops the phone. Grabs it again.
MACKELWAY (PHONE, CONT'D)
Alpha-4-5-2-Tango-Foxtrot-Alpha.
Zero does it again - swinging the rear of his rig across the
road, forcing O'Ryan to swerve hard. The Yukon gets shoved on
to a curb, then clunks down to the street again.
Then Zero jams on the brakes. Mackelway's eyes go wide.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
(at O'Ryan)
Brakes!
O'Ryan jumps on the brakes. The Yukon screeches to a stop,
throwing itself into a sideways slide. It bangs, passenger
side first, into the rear of the truck, breaking a window.
Mackelway ducks out of the way of breaking glass. Then the rig
pulls away again. O'Ryan follows.
198 THE CHASE - CONTINUING 198
Zero's rig turns hard onto a SERVICE ROAD, running parallel to
the Interstate. Mackelway is locked in on that truck.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
(into cel-phone again)
Travelling due west now. Don't see a
name. It's a service road, running
parallel to the--
Then Mackelway freezes, mid-word. He just saw something that
made his jaw drop:
On the other side of this road is a field of TALL WHEAT.
Time seems to stop. His blood feels like it just congealed.
Tall wheat in a wet wind. He has been here before. He has seen
it before.
And so has O'Ryan...
Mackelway just stares, slack-jawed, as that wheat whips past
them. The feeling is so unsettling that for a moment he
forgets about Zero, and the rig, and the kid...
Everything has just crystallized in a horrible way. He knows
that he is going to wind up in that wheat field, somehow, with
O'Ryan.
And O'Ryan will be begging him for mercy. "Please..."
O'Ryan guns the Yukon, attempting to cut in front of the rig.
Zero swings wide, sending the Yukon into a curb this time.
That shreds their front tire.
...which means that in one minute this car is going to be
undriveable. So if they don't stop Zero from hitting that
Interstate - now - Zero will be gone.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
(absently)
What're you...
O'RYAN
Can't let him hit the Interstate.
Mackelway braces himself, as O'Ryan guns his car up the left
side of the rig, shredded tire and all. Then:
He pulls right in front of the rig. At about 60 m.p.h. And he
jams on the brakes.
Zero swerves, out of instinct. It throws the rig into a
vicious JACK-KNIFE. The van whips around in front of the cab,
swatting the Yukon away like a fly.
We're inside the Yukon as it rolls, Mackelway and O'Ryan look
like tinker toys.
The torque pulls Zero's rig onto its side, sliding hard. Metal
hits concrete, sending up a shower of SPARKS.
The Yukon winds up in a ditch alongside the service road,
upside down. Mackelway, alive and awake, strains to look out
the busted windshield.
What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig
is lying flat on its side.
And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field...
199 EXT. SERVICE ROAD - CONTINUING 199
The rig's cab lies driver's-side down. But the passenger-side
door pops open. And Zero pokes through it, his eyes
immediately scanning that TALL WHEAT. Rain pours.
Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now
opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry.
Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his
hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat
field - vanishing.
Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door
is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels
across the street.
Just then - a STATE RANGER CAR arrives.
MACKELWAY
(over his shoulder, running)
Get the van open! He's got a kid in the
van!
STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints
into the tall wheat.
O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too
disappears into that Wheat Field.
200 EXT. WHEAT FIELD - CONTINUING 200
Tall wheat in a stiff wet wind, and not a drop of moonlight to
guide us. Mackelway plunges in, gun drawn. No idea where he's
going.
...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a
feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting.
He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front
of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing.
That, too, was presaged. Those visions...
201 EXT. ZERO'S TOPPLED RIG - CONTINUING 201
It's locked. Ranger pulls out his handgun and blows the lock
away.
202 EXT. WHEAT FIELD - RESUMING 202
Mackelway keeps running, deaf and blind.
O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one
another.
203 INT. THE TOPPLED RIG - REFRIGERATED VAN - RESUMING 203
200 sides of beef lie on their sides. Ranger plunges in.
Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL
that used to hide a secret compartment.
The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air
blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he
can...
204 EXT. WHEAT FIELD - RESUMING 204
Mackelway keeps going, running blind.
Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of
someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens.
Silence. The sound does not repeat itself.
He continues along, step by cautious step now.
205 INT. TOPPLED RIG - REFRIGERATED VAN - RESUMING 205
Ranger gets over the last of the carcasses, pulling himself up
to the now-open compartment.
First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was
responsible for those freezer burns.
Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's
alive. His leg presses up against the rod.
206 EXT. WHEAT FIELD - RESUMING 206
Mackelway, inching along, heart pounding. He hears a noise to
his left. Whips around, gun poised.
But it's nothing. He sighs. The wheat almost sounds like it's
laughing at him.
Then that TIRE IRON lashes out, from the right.
It catches Mackelway with horrific force, shattering his wrist
and sending that gun flying into the wheat.
Before Mackelway can react, Zero is upon him...
207 EXT. THE TOPPLED RIG - RESUMING 207
Fran's Ford skids to a stop outside the van.
...just as the Ranger brings Charlie out of the rig. The kid
is shaking, traumatized. He begins to cry...
Fran gets the idea. She hurries over.
208 EXT. WHEAT FIELD - RESUMING 208
Mackelway and Zero wrestle, surrounded and obscured by all of
that wheat... Zero is a monster, and he's got that tire iron.
Mackelway has a busted wrist. Hardly a fair fight.
But Mackelway is battling: kicking, clawing, getting in as
many shots as he can. His shirt rips away from his body,
exposing that brand-mark. They roll back and forth. Until:
O'RYAN (O.S.)
(calmly, firmly)
Up.
Zero freezes. Mackelway too. They turn to find:
O'Ryan... who stands here, Mackelway's gun in hand.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Up.
Mackelway's relief is total. He pushes Zero away, rising. Zero
pulls himself off the ground, chagrinned.
ZERO
(re: Mackelway)
Glad you're here, Man. Guy was about to
kill me.
O'Ryan, without ceremony, puts a bullet through Zero's left
palm. That got Mackelway's attention.
Zero howls with pain, his palm gushing. The TIRE-IRON falls to
the ground. Mackelway approaches O'Ryan.
MACKELWAY
I'll take it from here.
He extends his good hand to O'Ryan: "The gun." O'Ryan pauses.
Then...
O'RYAN
Are you going to shoot him?
MACKELWAY
Give me the gun, O'Ryan.
ZERO
Hey, I just surrendered.
O'RYAN
Shut up.
ZERO
I surrendered! That's it!
O'RYAN
SHUT UP!!!
O'Ryan wheels around, aiming the gun right at Zero's face.
That shuts the guy up in a hurry.
From that service road now, we hear a line of SIRENS,
approaching from a distance. Unit after unit.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
(quietly now)
Look at him, Mack. He's not human
anymore. Go dig up that old lady's
backyard - you'll find bodies there...
Maybe hundreds of them. Of course, ya
gotta get a warrant first, chain of
custody's gotta be followed. One breach,
and he walks.
(no reply)
My way, he's eliminated; the world is rid
of him. It's a lot closer to justice than
having some Prosecutor tell you you've
left a tissue sample in the wrong lab.
Isn't it?
MACKELWAY
(that stung)
Give me the fucking gun!
O'Ryan turns, studies him.
...and hands him the gun. Just like that.
Mackelway eyes it. O'Ryan doesn't say a word, just crosses
back to Zero, and grabs that TIRE-IRON off the ground.
O'Ryan's now standing right behind Zero, as:
O'RYAN
(at Mackelway)
You have to understand: none of this was
arbitrary. We were chosen, you and I.
WHAP! O'Ryan just swung that tire-iron into Zero's rib cage.
We hear bones crack, and air rushing from the guy's lungs. He
drops to his knees, gasping.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
I saw us here. You did too.
THUMP! Another violent swing of that tire-iron, busting up the
other side of Zero's torso. Now both sides of his rib-cage
have shattered. Breathing is almost impossible.
Mackelway tightens. His head just began to throb...
MACKELWAY
Okay. You made your point.
O'RYAN
Bullshit! If I'd made my fucking point
you would've shot him yourself by now!
Another swing of that tire-iron, across the back of Zero's
neck. He crumbles, face down.
Fuck it. Mackelway crosses to O'Ryan and puts that gun right
up against the back of O'Ryan's head.
MACKELWAY
Enough!
Then, an odd thing... O'Ryan simply smiles.
Something about having that gun pointed right at him - it's a
relief.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
Drop it.
O'RYAN
Or what?
MACKELWAY
Just drop it.
O'RYAN
Would you shoot me?
That's something Mackelway doesn't want to consider.
MACKELWAY
Put it down.
O'RYAN
(calmly)
I want you to think for a second. About
your destiny. Who you are. You're cursed,
like I am - except you keep running from
it.
(Mackelway's silent)
You hear things. You see things. That's
why you can't sleep, why your head always
aches.
He turns. They are face to face. Nothing but that gun between
them.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
...and it's why you are going to let me
kill this animal. And then you're going
to kill me.
That threw Mackelway badly. O'Ryan seizes the moment -
wheeling around...
He takes one last swing at Zero, like a lumberjack. The tire-
iron impacts Zero's skull with a dull THUD, cracking it. He is
dead.
Mackelway's eyes go wide. Whole thing has been a blur.
O'Ryan releases the tire-iron... and drops to his knees like a
man awaiting execution, his back to Mackelway.
Mackelway is silent. Stunned. The blood from Zero's caved-in
skull finds its way to O'Ryan's knees.
But O'Ryan remains peaceful. Calm. Ready.
MACKELWAY
Get up.
O'RYAN
I can't do that, Mack. I've seen all this
already. For months now.
MACKELWAY
Get up.
O'RYAN
Every time, we're in this field: same
wind, same rain. And you...
He puts a finger to his head, pretending it's a gun. Then he
pretends to pull the trigger. Mackelway gets the idea.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
It's okay. I want you to. I'm begging you
to.
Mackelway doesn't know what to do. Then, making matters worse:
FRAN (O.S.)
(aloud)
Mack?
She's about a hundred yards away... but she'll be here soon
enough. That puts some heat under O'Ryan:
O'RYAN
I'm tired, Mack.
FRAN (O.S.)
Can you hear me?
She's 90 yards out now...
O'RYAN
Pull the trigger...
(no reply)
I'm not going to jail. Now pull the
fucking trigger!
Mackelway's frozen. O'Ryan knows it.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Fucking coward.
O'Ryan rises now, facing Mackelway.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Some things are not up to us to decide.
They just exist. They're inevitable. This
field. This rain. This moment. It has all
already happened. You know that. You've
seen it too.
He shoves Mackelway in the chest.
FRAN (O.S.)
Mack?
She's 70 yards out now...
O'RYAN
Shut it off for me.
MACKELWAY
I'm not going to kill you, O'Ryan.
O'RYAN
Of course you will. I've seen it.
MACKELWAY
You saw wrong!
O'RYAN
(incredulous)
That's impossible.
FRAN (O.S.)
Mack? Can you hear me?
50 yards out now. Maybe close enough to hear O'Ryan's voice...
O'RYAN
(rambling, unraveling)
You don't understand. Those fucking faces
on that map. They call to me. I see their
eyes in the dark - they're staring at me:
"How did you let this happen to me?" But
that's the thing about them - they're
like pictures. They never blink. They
just...stare, and always at me. That's my
destiny, do you see? I didn't help them
when they needed me and this is my
penance. Fine. I ACCEPT IT. But I'm
opting out now, ya get it? I can't stand
this anymore! I wanna close my eyes for
once and see something other than
torture.
(Mackelway's expressionless)
It's not a bad start, Mack. We've made
the world a little safer now. Speck,
Fulcher, Starkey, now Zero. We've made
justice. But I get some too. You have to
end all this for me. That's why you're
here. It's your destiny.
MACKELWAY
Stop telling me about my fucking destiny!
O'RYAN
(again)
But I've seen it!
MACKELWAY
Open your eyes, O'Ryan! Here I am,
standing here. I'm not shooting you.
Doesn't that fucking tell you something?
You're a guy with a skill. Period. They
taught you more than they should've. I'm
sorry about that... But you're not God.
You can't see everything.
O'RYAN
Yes I can! And you can too! That's why I
chose you!
FRAN (O.S.)
Mack?
Mackelway's not budging. O'Ryan can see that.
O'RYAN
(re: tire-iron)
Fine. I'll make it easy for you:
O'Ryan picks up that tire-iron. Mackelway sees what's coming.
O'Ryan swings the tire-iron as Mackelway backs out of its
range.
MACKELWAY
Put the fucking thing down, O'Ryan.
O'Ryan keeps pursuing. Another swing. Mackelway keeps backing
up. The swing misses.
O'RYAN
Look. It's perfect. Won't even need a
hearing this way. You apprehended the
suspect in the commission of a murder.
Then he turned on you and you fired in
self-defense.
O'Ryan isn't letting up. And Mackelway can't quite fire.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
These things are bigger than you -
haven't you seen that yet? Destiny.
Justice. Mercy. They're vast. We're just
puppets!
MACKELWAY
I'm not going to kill you!
O'RYAN
You don't get to decide that!
MACKELWAY
Yes I do!
O'Ryan takes one more swing, as:
FRAN (O.S.)
FREEZE!!!
Silence. Mackelway turns. So does O'Ryan.
There's Fran, emerging from the tall wheat, gun trained right
on O'Ryan. His shock is total.
FRAN (CONT'D)
Drop it.
O'Ryan doesn't move at first. Then, slowly, an ironic smile
snakes its way across his lips.
O'RYAN
(at Mackelway, surprised)
It's funny. I never saw anyone else out
here. Did you?
Mackelway doesn't answer. He can't. O'Ryan eyes him.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
Do it, Mack. Please.
(Mackelway's silent)
Please. I'm begging you.
There it was: the very thing Mackelway's been hearing all this
time, the exact words. Unsettling as hell.
...and we begin to INTERCUT: images of this moment with images
from those "VISIONS" that have been hinting at this very
wheatfield since Page One...
208a INTERCUT WITH/EXT. WHEATFIELD "FANTASY" - SAME 208a
Tall wheat, wet wind, O'Ryan's voice: "I'm begging you..."
...Mackelway snaps himself out of the vision.
MACKELWAY
I can't.
That was almost an attempt to make those images stop, to deny
its awful, inevitable conclusion.
MACKELWAY (CONT'D)
I'm not you.
O'RYAN
Yet.
Two men, neither of them flinching... until O'Ryan nods - as
if to say "Good-bye."
...more of that vision interrupts now: a gun, rising...
O'Ryan rears back and swings that tire-iron right at
Mackelway's head.
Fran has no choice. She fires.
O'Ryan is hit right between the shoulder blades. The tire-iron
hits Mackelway in the shoulder. O'Ryan crumbles to the ground,
landing face up.
...a body slumping to the ground. O'Ryan... Mackelway stands
over him...
Now, real-life again, Mackelway stands over O'Ryan, just as
O'Ryan had always envisioned it. That makes him smile, even as
he's dying.
O'RYAN (CONT'D)
(weak)
Thank you.
Then he dies, eyes open. Mackelway looks to Fran...
DISSOLVE TO:
209 EXT. SERVICE ROAD - DAWN 209
Hours have passed. Dozens of LAW ENFORCEMENT VEHICLES have
arrived. Sherrifs, Feds. Zero's rig remains on its side.
Mackelway sits nearby on a CURB, his shattered wrist is in a
SLING. Up above, the CLOUDS have parted. Morning sun streaks
through. No more rain. Fran sits beside him.
At their feet, in the gutter of this service road, lies a
discarded MILK CARTON, covered with dust. The face under the
"Have You Seen Me?" is unknown to us.
Kathleen is nearby, holding Charlie tight. Cops surround them.
An UNMARKED SEDAN arrives. Charlton hurries out of it, making
a bee-line for Mackelway.
CHARLTON
Nice work.
(Mackelway half-nods)
Where is he?
MACKELWAY
Sir?
CHARLTON
O'Ryan. Where is he?
Mackelway rises, studies Charlton. There's nothing to say.
So he extends a hand to Fran. She takes it, rising to her
feet. They leave Charlton behind...
We PULL AWAY from them, craning up, taking in this expanse of
tall wheat, TILTING UP to that morning sun.
MATCH DISSOLVE TO:
...an AFTERNOON SUN now - blazing white hot. TILT DOWN...
210 EXT. DELIA'S RANCH-HOUSE - DAY 210
We're some distance away. HEAT RISES off parched Earth,
lending a vaporous screen to everything. But we can make out
the shapes of men in HAZ-MAT SUITS.
Delia's backyard is being torn up by a BACK-HOE. Looks like a
war-zone: BODIES, wrapped in cloth, being exhumed from the
ground. Dozens of them...
But there's plenty of soil yet to be turned... Might be
HUNDREDS unearthed by the time these guys are through. We...
FADE OUT...