Frameshift: This and That

Frameshift: "This and That"



TEASER

EXT. KEENE-NIGHT

High over a small city. A smattering of yellow lights, cars
rush along streets. Serene, quiet, this high up.

SIRENS WAIL.

MONTAGE

MOS. An alley. A HOBO smashes an anti-theft cap off a bottle.

MOS. An ATM. A MAN folds his money, retrieves his card, turns
away-- WHAM, into a THIEF's fist.

MOS. A sidewalk. A JUNKIE points a gun at a YOUNG MAN and
WOMAN. He rants, and they hand over wallets, jewelry. He
yells louder, thrusts the gun at the woman's earrings. The
young man sidesteps between.

BLAM!

INT. JOSH'S HOUSE-JOSH'S ROOM-NIGHT

JOSH SHEPHERD snaps upright in his bed. Slumps back onto his
pillow. Stares up at the ceiling, blank, sweating. Glances at
his computer, monitor aglow. IM box with unanswered messages
to "SARAC17"; the clock says 12:15. Back to the ceiling.

...

He sighs and rolls out of bed.

EXT. STREET-NIGHT

Josh strolls along, eyes rove the area: dark buildings, empty
streets, no cars. Nothing at all.

Josh stops and leans against a building. Closes his eyes.

EXT. ALLEYWAY-NIGHT (VISION)

SERIES OF SHOTS

FEET SLIP on old newspapers.

An OLDER MAN, 50-ish, stumbles back against a Dumpster

A MUGGER smacks the man with his gun.

The older man falls to the ground.

EXT. STREET-NIGHT

Josh opens his eyes. Glances left and right before setting
off right, at a sprint, across the street and round a corner.

INT. COHEN'S OFFICE-NIGHT

DR. COHEN sits at a battered secondhand desk, lit by the glow
of a laptop monitor. The room itself is bare and plain. A bit
on the shabby side.

In front of him, a credit card statement. American Express
Centurion card. For Andrew Porter.

Fresh charge, OLHAM'S ARMY SURPLUS & PAWN, for 3500 dollars.

Cohen shifts, takes a thumb drive from a pant pocket. Plugs
it in. The screen flickers, and the page refreshes. The
Olham's charge erased.

Cohen rubs his eyes, then his face, washing without water.
Then he shuts the computer.

Stands up, walks out an open door into--

INT. COHEN'S HALLWAY-NIGHT

Again, plain, bare. White paint gone gray, neglected wood
floors masquerade as mice.

Cohen passes one open door. An OPERATING ROOM, identical in
every way to the one Josh was in.

Cohen turns through another doorway, to--

INT. COHEN'S KITCHEN-NIGHT

More bare plainness. The cupboards are worn and peeling,
couple without doors. The counter linoleum peeled. A mini
fridge and other dorm chef tech congregate near the couple
intact sockets.

Cohen ignores all this and approaches a large chest freezer.
He stops in front of it. Places a hand on the lid. Lifts it.

Inside. AGENT DONAHUE. Dead. Cold. Gray of the apartment's
paint job, still dressed, frost on his skin and suit.

EXT. ALLEYWAY-NIGHT

Josh's sprint drops into a cautious jog the last few feet.
The alley is twenty feet up from a street corner, a maybe ten
foot space between buildings. He stops and edges along the
wall, peers round the corner.

The Mugger rummages the older man's pockets. He pulls a
wallet, shoves it in his own pocket. Digs more.

Josh presses back against the wall, looks up. Closes his eyes
and takes a deep breath. Steps away from the wall and into
the mouth of the alley.

JOSH:
Hey.

Casual. No confrontation. Almost friendly.

The Mugger freezes, spins, and stumbles to his feet.

Josh steps forward, deeper. Into the shadow.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
So what's up? Out for a stroll, saw
this guy, figured you'd grab a
couple bucks?

INT. COHEN'S KITCHEN-NIGHT

Cohen straightens Donahue on a gurney.

EXT. ALLEYWAY-NIGHT

Josh keeps walking. The Mugger raises his gun, points it at
Josh. His hand shakes a bit. Josh grins.

JOSH:
Aw, come on. You and I both know
that's not loaded. If it were,
you'd have just shot him.

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

The bathroom's large, formerly elegant. Dingy, broken down,
but with the promise that it's just been neglected and a
little love would bring it right back.

The gurney sits in the middle of the room, empty. Cohen
crouches next to the tub. Donahue's hand hangs out.

EXT. ALLEYWAY-NIGHT

Josh nods at the older man on the ground. Dazed but awake.

JOSH:
I'm Josh, sir. Give me a second,
everything'll be fine.

Josh gets face-to-face with the Mugger. Cocks his head at the
gun, still aimed at him.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Seriously. It's a revolver. I can
see it's not loaded. Look.

Josh snatches the gun and snaps it open. Turns it round to
display the empty cylinder. Snaps it closed.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Harmless. Good club, crap gun.

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

Cohen balances Donahue's wrist on the edge of the tub. He
reaches up the gurney and takes down a small set of bolt
cutters. Low tech. He fits the blade on Donahue's pinky.

Swallows hard.

EXT. ALLEYWAY-NIGHT

Josh is closer still to the Mugger.

JOSH:
So, it's your lucky day. I helped
you out. Stopped you being stupid.
You don't carry a gun you can't
use. I mean, what if I'm a cop? I
see a gun, shoot first, check your
load later. Dangerous as hell. Now,
what you want to do is go home.
Maybe get a job. Go to school. Not
this. Because you might--

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

Cohen stares. Quick, shallow breaths. Clenches his eyes shut.

The complicated sound of bone splintering, flesh tearing. And
a dull plastic THUNK.

EXT. ALLEYWAY-NIGHT

FLASH of WHITE LIGHT.

Josh's hands snap to his head.

JOSH:
ARGH!!!

The gun clatters to the ground. Josh spins away, crouches
low, grunts and moans his only sound.

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

Cohen stares hard at nothing. Quick breathes. Eyes shut.

The same complicated noise. Same dull plastic THUNK.

EXT. ALLEYWAY-NIGHT

Josh arches up and yells out loud, eyes screwed shut. He's
not here; nowhere near.

The Mugger stares at Josh. Glances down. Sees the gun. Picks
it up. He begins to edge out of the alley.

Josh drops onto his butt, rocks back and forth, holding his
head, whimpering into his palms.

The Mugger glances between the older man, starting to
straighten and recover, the mouth of the alley. Then at Josh.

He lets loose a sudden and brutal kick to Josh's side. Josh
flops over, curls fetal, head in his crotch.

The Mugger lets loose a flurry of kicks, drops a few whacks
from the pistol in for good measure. He's so into it, he
completely misses the older man, now up and not so old--

Armed with an empty bottle midway through its arc to the back
of the Mugger's head.

CRACK!

Mugger's down for the count. The older man drops what's left
of the bottle, and crouches down to help Josh.

Josh rocks in his fetal cocoon, little moans and groans.

The older man gets his arm around Josh and under an arm, and
hauls him up. Josh obeys on autopilot, eyes blank, jaw slack
focused somewhere else entirely.

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

The bolt cutters clatter, land next to an opaque tupperware
dish. Cohen's hand snaps the lid on.

He stands up, tupperware in hand. Sets the dish on the
counter, opens the medicine cabinet.

Inside, more chemistry lab than medicine cabinet. Cohen takes
down a large bottle and a glass beaker. The bottle's label
says sodium hydroxide.

Cohen picks up the tupperware dish, looks away. Ten little
glass TINKS. Fingertips on glass.

Then he picks up the sodium hydroxide, and uncaps it.



END OF TEASER
ACT ONE

INT. ER EXAM ROOM-NIGHT

Josh pulls his shirt on, as the door opens. The older man
from the alley enters.

OLDER MAN:
How're you doing, son?

Josh shrugs. His face is bruised, there's dried blood under
his nose, and he moves slowly. But he's on his feet.

JOSH:
Okay, apparently.

He gestures to an x-ray view box on the wall. Chest x-rays.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
That's supposed to be good.

OLDER MAN:
Ah. You were pretty bad off during
the ride over. Clutching your head.
Sure you're okay?

Josh runs his hand over his face, through his hair.

JOSH:
Yeah, now. Don't know what it was.
24 minute migraine, I guess.
Thanks, by the way.

Josh holds out his hand. They shake.

OLDER MAN:
You helped me out just as much.
Lost my wallet, but the cash was
separate. Replacing cards is easy.
Life, less so.

Josh half laughs.

JOSH:
Yeah, I guess. I'm sorry, I didn't
catch your name, Mr...?

OLDER MAN:
Hackett. Tom Hackett.

JOSH:
Thanks. Mr. Hackett.

OLDER MAN/HACKETT:
Fair trade. Well-- It's late. I
better get going. Do you need a
ride, maybe?

Josh shakes his head.

JOSH:
No, I'm okay. Like to walk.

Hackett nods, and they shake once more; Hackett leaves

The door's barely closed before TOM KINNIT enters the room.
He looks tired, overworked. Clothes wrinkled, little attempt
at looking neat this late.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Detective Kinnit.

Kinnit looks up. A second before he gets it.

KINNIT:
Josh. Shepherd.

JOSH:
Last I checked.

KINNIT:
Yeah. You're the mugging
witness/assault victim?

Josh nods.

JOSH:
Trouble and me: Peas and carrots.

KINNIT:
You're out awfully late.

Shrug.

JOSH:
Insomnia. My therapist says it
might be related to the amnesia.
Doesn't change my History test
tomorrow, though.

Kinnit gives a vague nod, takes out a notepad. Perches on the
arm of the guest chair.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
So, I thought you were, like, the
major crimes. Kidnapping, murder
and stuff. Right?

Kinnit shrugs.

KINNIT:
Small town these days. Budget cuts.
I'm whatever hits the desk.
Tonight, attempted robbery. So what
do you remember about the guy?

Josh doesn't hesitate.

JOSH:
About five-eight, white, not
tanned. Maybe 20? Like he's a night
guy. Dark hair, eyes. Maybe 165?
Tad underweight. Real nervous, like
it was maybe the first time.
Unloaded gun, but he pointed it, so
it's moot, I guess. Cheap thing,
out of a trunk or pawn shop. Cheap,
ratty clothes. I'd say Wal-Mart or
KMart, if not Goodwill.

Kinnit stares at Josh.

KINNIT:
All that in a few seconds?

Josh shrugs.

JOSH:
Only my long-term memory's crap.
Honestly, I think Mr. Hackett and I
scared him pretty well. If it's his
first time, I doubt he'll go for
two. Just sign on at Burger King or
somewhere. Safer.

Kinnit writes, then pauses.

KINNIT:
Mr. Hackett?

JOSH:
Yeah, the guy who brought me in. He
was getting mugged, I helped out.

Kinnit flips back a page.

KINNIT:
You're the only one I talked to.

Josh frowns.

JOSH:
Huh. You just missed him. He was
here right before you.

KINNIT:
Thought he was the doc. You get his
number? Address?

Josh shakes his head.

JOSH:
Sorry. Didn't think to. He was
older, and the mugger sort of
roughed him up. Probably doesn't
remember much anyway.

KINNIT:
Maybe not. Still, I'll try and find
him. DOL'll have a record. You get
a first name?

JOSH:
Tom. Anywhere from fifty to sixty.
Pretty narrowed range. Easy enough.

Kinnit nods, closes his notepad, stands.

KINNIT:
Yeah, easy enough. You're okay?
(glances at the viewbox)
No breaks or anything?

Josh shakes his head.

JOSH:
Yeah, perfectly healthy. Some
bruises, nothing worse. Good luck.

KINNIT:
You seem to have a bit of it.

JOSH:
Apart from the lost decade, anyway.

KINNIT:
Apart from that. Anyway, thanks,
and I'll call you if we find out
anything.
Also-- We never did get to work on
fleshing out your lost time.
Obviously I can't force you, but, I
mean, ten years is an awful long
time to lose. We might be able to
dig something up.

Josh shuts down. Glances away, seems to shrink up.

JOSH:
Yeah, I'll think about it. I guess
I'm just still settling in.

Kinnit gets the mood. Nods sympathy, pats Josh's shoulder.

KINNIT:
Right. Anyway, you ever get the
urge, I've usually got the time.
Just call, we can get a sketch
going or something. Well-- Guess
I'll get going. Paperwork to do.

JOSH:
Okay. Night, sir.

KINNIT:
Night. You need a ride or anything?

JOSH:
No, I'm okay. Like the walk. Still.
Well lit streets, though.

KINNIT:
Right. Good night, then.

JOSH:
Bye.

Kinnit leaves the room. Josh sighs, rubs his face again.
Takes a quick glance at himself in a steel cabinet. Touches
his nose and winces.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Damn.

INT./EXT. KINNIT'S CAR/PARK-NIGHT

Kinnit pulls his car into a spot and kills the lights.
Standard police unmarked. Kinnit gets out, leans against a
fender, scans the trees, paths, benches.

Nobody. "Dead of night" for a reason. Kinnit sets off, on the
path around the little pond.

He passes a trash can immediately, stops. Digs in his
pockets, comes out with old gum wrappers, crumpled paper. He
tosses them in the can. Sets off walking again. Perfectly
natural pit stop.

Inside the can: the wrappers and paper. Atop it all, the gift
tag with Josh's fingerprint.

EXT. HOSPITAL-NIGHT

Josh walks out to the curb in front of the hospital, sits
down on a bus stop bench.

A car pulls out of the lot, slows at the exit, stops full.
The window whirs down.

CLAIRE:
Josh?

CLAIRE DAWSON calls from the car window. Josh turns, freezes.

...

JOSH:
Claire?

She nods.

CLAIRE:
Do you need a ride?

Josh opens his mouth; the refusal catches in his throat, is
beat into submission, and--

JOSH:
Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great.

Arises victorious.

INT. CLAIRE'S CAR-CONTINUOUS

Josh shuts the door. Neither say anything for a second. Then--

JOSH:
Thanks. For the ride.

Claire glances at Josh; away. She's different. Less...
Bright, vibrant. Her hair seems lank. Lower key all around.

CLAIRE:
It's no problem. Least I could....

Unsure if it's an allowed topic.

CLAIRE: (CONT'D)
...Do.

Josh slips past it.

JOSH:
Still, thanks. Two thirty in the
morning, you didn't have to.

Claire glances at Josh; quickly away. Her eyes say otherwise.

CLAIRE:
Um... Where do you live?

Josh laughs. The tension relaxes a fraction.

JOSH:
Right. Sorry.

INT./EXT. CLAIRE'S CAR/JOSH'S HOUSE-NIGHT

Claire shifts to park. Neither move for a moment.

Josh moves for the handle. Claire jumps on him, pulls him
into a tight hug.

CLAIRE:
Thank you.

Josh freezes. Again. Finally hugs back very lightly.

JOSH:
You're, uh, welcome.

Claire lets go. Stares at Josh.

CLAIRE:
How did you know? What happened?

Josh looks away.

CLAIRE: (CONT'D)
The police didn't even have a clue.
How could you?

JOSH:
I, uh, got a... Hunch.

CLAIRE:
But from what?

Josh turns back, can't make the eye contact.

JOSH:
Trust me, you wouldn't believe me.

Claire forces Josh to look her in the eye. Tiny smile.

CLAIRE:
Try me.

Josh stares. Shrugs.

JOSH:
Okay. I've got these... Let's call
'em visions? Of stuff. Really
emotional things, mostly. Violent
crime a lot.

Claire stares.

CLAIRE:
Visions?

A tone that sounds like the extension to the Psych ward.

Josh nods.

JOSH:
Visions. Keegan picks you up in his
car, after work at the coffee shop.

Claire stares.

CLAIRE:
You don't know where I work.

Josh shakes his head.

JOSH:
You never told me where you work.
Big difference. You smacked against
his car windows, then he knocked
you out. Then you were in the
testing closet at school. And I
showed up.

Claire's mouth gapes a bit.

CLAIRE:
You're serious.

JOSH:
As a heart attack. Or a serial
rapist/murderer. I saw it all.
The highly emotional and anything
within 20 feet or so. Remote
viewing, says Noah. I just know I
hate it.

CLAIRE:
Why?

Josh shrugs.

JOSH:
Been nothing but bad. Mostly don't
sleep because of it. Can't stop
half of it, anyway. It's torture.

CLAIRE:
But you stop some of it.... You
stopped Keegan.

JOSH:
Yeah.

CLAIRE:
It's a gift.

JOSH:
And a curse.

CLAIRE:
Everything is. But every cloud has
a silver lining.

JOSH:
No, every silver lining's got a
cloud.

CLAIRE:
You wanna trade proverbs all night?

JOSH:
I think it's an idiom.

CLAIRE:
Even so. It's not all bad. It's
good. Weren't for you, I wouldn't
be here. So thanks. Again.

Josh shrugs it off.

JOSH:
Hey, no problem. Apart from, you
know, the veggie Keegan thing.

CLAIRE:
I don't think anybody would hold it
against you.

Her look guarantees she doesn't. Josh half smiles.

JOSH:
Probably not.... You didn't tell
anyone I was around, right?

Claire shakes her head.

CLAIRE:
You asked me not to.

JOSH:
Yeah. Thanks. And this-- the whole
vision thing--

CLAIRE:
Mum's the word.

JOSH:
Thanks.

...

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Well-- Night.

Josh opens the door and gets out of the car. Shuts it.

Makes it a third of the way to the door before--

FLASH OF WHITE.

Josh stops dead and winces, hand to his forehead. He turns
around. Claire's tail lights flash through white to drive.
Josh runs to the car, taps the window. Claire puts it down.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Think I could get one more lift?

EXT. PARK-NIGHT

The trash can sits still. Kinnit's gone.

A shopping cart with a square wheel RATTLES ALONG.

A HOMELESS MAN in layers pushes it. He stops at the trash can
before Kinnit's. Digs through. Nothing good. On.

Stops at Kinnit's. Digs. Lifts out some things. Newspapers,
and-- Yeah. The print. They sit on top of the mess of cans
and bottles in his cart.

He moves on. Stops at the next. Digs.

EXT. ALLEYWAY-NIGHT

Claire's car slows to a stop, just shy of the corner. The
doors open. Claire and Josh get out.

Josh heads for the corner, peers around the building, up the
street. Cop car. Blue and red swirl off the dark buildings. A
PATROLMAN steps out of the alleyway, radio at his face.

PATROLMAN:
No, sir, nothing. There was anybody
here, they're long gone now.

A pause, incoherent radio speak.

PATROLMAN: (CONT'D)
No, sir, nothing. Just trash.

The radio returns another burst of static words, and the
Patrolman opens the passenger door, gets in. Brake lights,
then a white flare. Brakes off. And gone.

Josh straightens. Looks back at Claire.

JOSH:
Hang out here. Just a few minutes.

Josh rounds the corner. Not five feet before Claire's beside
him-- close, too. Josh glances at her.

CLAIRE:
What?

She's scared. A deaf-blind narcissist could see it.

JOSH:
Nothing.

They reach the alley. Josh stands at the mouth and stares in.

It's just an alley. Dumpster at the end, doors to the two
buildings, strewn papers and spare boxes. Not special.

CLAIRE:
What're you looking for?

JOSH:
I don't know. Something very...
Regrettable? Remorse.

CLAIRE:
Is that what that smell is?

Josh glances at Claire. She glances behind every few seconds.

JOSH:
No, no, that's Jack and Ralph.
Remorse is less wino-y.

Josh catches Claire's glance behind herself again, takes her
elbow, pushes her several steps ahead.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Trust me, I'll see it coming.

Claire glances past him. The street's pitch beyond. Claire
looks ten feet and a missed Klonopin from a panic attack.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
I promise.

Claire forces her eyes back to the alley.

CLAIRE:
So what does remorse look like?

Josh closes his eyes. Bows his head a bit. His eyelids
flutter. Then they snap open. He sets off for the Dumpster.

JOSH:
Believe it or not--

Josh tosses the lid open, reaches inside.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
A lot like a dumpy little revolver.

He pulls out a revolver. The Mugger's. Crappy and unloaded.

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

Cohen sits on the toilet. An old cracked job. Grand in the
60's, past vintage into trash now. Head in hands. His watch
beeps, he looks up. At the counter. Stands and crosses to it.

The beaker's full of a coffee-ish liquid. Cohen's face
tightens, holding his breath. He pours the beaker down the
sink.

Drain gurgles. Cohen gazes down. Ten fingers' worth of bone
hulls. He picks up a pestle from next to the beaker. Swallows
hard. Runs the water and begins crushing.



END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO

INT. CLAIRE'S CAR-NIGHT

Josh and Claire sit. Josh holds the gun. He stares at it.

Claire frowns.

CLAIRE:
Are you... getting anything?

Josh looks up. Shrugs.

JOSH:
It doesn't really work like that.
Keegan, sort of. I touched a
bloodstain. But, I'd already had a
dream. I think it was mostly me.
Like, PTSD-ish or something.

Claire nods. Looks around.

CLAIRE:
So... What are you doing?

JOSH:
Thinking.

...

CLAIRE:
About?

JOSH:
The guy. He was 20, probably.
Clean, but skinny. His clothes were
ratty, but not homeless ratty. And
he was nervous. Guy just radiated
desperation. Gun's a dead end;
Washington doesn't really register,
and there's no way for me to track
it if they did. But--

Josh looks at Claire.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
You're social, right? Any chance
you're on yearbook?

Claire nods slowly.

CLAIRE:
Yeah. So?

JOSH:
So you keep backlogs, right? At
least a few years?

Claire nods.

CLAIRE:
Of course. But they're locked up in
the school.

Josh shrugs.

JOSH:
That's not a problem.

Claire fumbles for the next excuse. Classic--

CLAIRE:
It's late.

Josh glances at the dashboard clock. 2:10.

JOSH:
Oh, god, I'm sorry. You need to get
home. My bad.

She looks down. Hands knit an invisible bootie in her lap.

CLAIRE:
It's not that. They're out of town.
It's just that--

Josh stares. So he's a deaf-blind narcissist. It happens.

Claire's voice is barely above a whisper.

CLAIRE: (CONT'D)
It's the school.

Her voice cracks over "school". Josh shuts his eyes and nods,
mentally kicks himself.

JOSH:
Right. I'm stupid. Sorry.
Nevermind. Not important.

Josh shakes his head.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
I don't even know what I'm after.
Excedrin Migraine. Let's go.

Claire faces front, starts the car. Hand over the shifter.

She pauses. Doesn't look at Josh. Eyes dead ahead. Jaw tight.

CLAIRE:
Is it important?

Josh is honest.

JOSH:
I don't know. Maybe, maybe not.

Claire nods.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
But you're safe. Period. Keegan's
not there. Even if there was
anything-- I'm dying before you.
And they'd be going with me.

Claire nods. Shifts into drive.

CLAIRE:
That's enough for me.

Josh leans forward to catch her eyes. They're not calm,
they're terrified. But they're firm, bright. Decided.

JOSH:
It's your choice, Claire. You don't
have to. Any doubts, just say so
and it's fine. No problem. Okay? I
can't drag you anywhere.

Claire nods. Presses the gas.

CLAIRE:
It's fine. I'm just not going to go
down that particular hall.

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

Cohen leans on the counter. Stares at it.

A surgical kit is laid out in front of him. Scalpels,
scissors, everything the discerning body disposer needs.

Cohen turns, leans back. Stares at the tub.

Donahue's there, same as before. The hands are wedged at his
sides, out of sight. Just grey, no more frosty.

Cohen's gaze shifts to the toilet. The usual stuff. An old
plunger, an empty bottle of drain cleaner on its side.

Cohen glances over his shoulder, at the small bottle of
sodium hydroxide. At the tub with Donahue. The drain cleaner.

INT. HOTEL HALLWAY-NIGHT

Kinnit walks down the hall. The hotel's nice, but mass
produced. A Hilton, Sheraton, something. Upscale and generic.

He finds the door he wants: end of the hall, a sprint to the
fire exit. Knocks. Sound of a heavy hotel lock sliding back,
and the door swings open.

Kinnit steps inside--

INT. HOTEL ROOM-CONTINUOUS

Kinnit squints against a de-shaded lamp glaring at him. The
door starts closed, and a piece of heavy string knocks him
sideways. Kinnit swats it and the end flies out from the
shadows behind the lamp. The door slams shut.

KINNIT:
Son of a-- STEW, kill the light.
You think I haven't seen you?

There's a few seconds' silence, and the light goes off.
Kinnit blinks, then stares.

In a chair next to the table, lampshade in hand, is a man in
his late twenties, about Kinnit's age, maybe younger. He's
dressed like he's half it, and his hair is... Purple.

KINNIT: (CONT'D)
You bleed Barney out?

The man who must be Stew gets out of his chair. He's not very
tall, and on the heavy end of average weight. He runs his
hand through his hair, and exhales.

STEW:
My girlfriend said it'd look good.

KINNIT:
Has your girlfriend ever seen you?

STEW:
She's seen mySpace.

KINNIT:
And have you heard from her since
your head went eggplant?

...

STEW:
No, but I'm sure she's busy.

KINNIT:
Or she got her laugh.

STEW:
You're an ass.

Kinnit grins.

KINNIT:
Yet you keep calling.

Stew glowers a second then breaks into a smile, too. They
shake hands and hug.

STEW:
Long time.

KINNIT:
Yeah. How's Canada?

STEW:
Cold. I miss summer.

KINNIT:
Just become American already. NSA'd
probably kill for you.

STEW:
Exactly why I'd say no.

KINNIT:
Hippie.

STEW:
Fascist. And who took that print? A
toddler?

KINNIT:
My medical examiner, and there were
complications. You're lucky I
didn't do it, you'd just have a
smudge of dust.

STEW:
A cop that can't take a
fingerprint. Don't you people have
standards? Still, it's usable
enough. Not bad, anyway.

KINNIT:
So what do you have?

Stew sits down at the table. Opens a laptop there.

STEW:
Absolutely nothing. Can't do
anything from here.

KINNIT:
Brilliant.

STEW:
Hey, I'm not asking any of the
obvious questions. Like, why an
American cop needs someone in
Canadian intelligence to ID a
fingerprint for him at all.

KINNIT:
I told you.

STEW:
You did. And you're lucky I didn't
just run away. Only makes things
sound worse. But still, there's
nothing I can do.

KINNIT:
When can I expect something?

STEW:
Couple weeks at best. I can
probably slip it in some random
case file somewhere, with other
prints to be run through the US
databases. Provided I don't piss
someone off and start Operation
Extra Crispy Canadian Bacon, then
we'll have a name. Or we won't, and
I'll rat you out the second
somebody mentions naturopathic
dentistry. Either way, you find
something out.

Kinnit sits at the foot of the bed.

KINNIT:
Fantastic. Sit and wait.

STEW:
Basically.

KINNIT:
Okay.

...

KINNIT: (CONT'D)
You had a girlfriend?

INT. YEARBOOK OFFICE-NIGHT

A cramped little room with dark, still computers, bulletin
boards crammed with photos of extracurriculars, and desks
strewn with notes and discs.

Josh and Claire sit at a desk, flipping through yearbooks.

CLAIRE:
So what am I looking for, exactly?

Josh glances up.

JOSH:
You? Nothing. The guy wasn't
special looking. Normal, nothing
easy to pinpoint. Dark hair, dark
eyes, average enough height. Skinny
now, but in that way that says it's
a new thing.

CLAIRE:
How do you know he went here?
Couldn't he have just hitched in?

Josh nods, flips another page.

JOSH:
Sure, he could've. But there's
basically three kinds of towns.
Towns people escape, towns people
escape to, and towns people get
stuck in. Keene, it's the last one.
I'd bet a pinkie he went here, and
that things went downhill fast.

Claire closes her yearbook.

CLAIRE:
You can't just look at them in your
head? Isn't that your thing?

JOSH:
It wouldn't go any quicker. I'd
still need to look at all the
individual pictures. I'd just save
the time of a few page turns and
earn a migraine.

CLAIRE:
It hurts?

JOSH:
Of course. Especially when I make
the effort. It's like mind's eye
squinting. Ever seen Scanners?

Claire makes a face.

CLAIRE:
There goes what little sleep I had
left tonight. Thanks.

JOSH:
Sorry. I'll keep the visuals
primetime from now on.

Josh turns a page. Then--

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Hey, so why were you at the
hospital so late? Anything wrong?

Claire glances up from poking through a stack of photos and
right back down. She opens a yearbook and flips pages.

CLAIRE:
No big deal. My...Aunt is sick, and
my visit just ran late. She'll be
okay, though. No worries.

Claire gets further infatuated with her yearbook. Then she
turns it around and presents it to Josh. Points at a photo.

CLAIRE: (CONT'D)
I don't suppose this is him?

The guy's dark haired, dark eyed. Basically average, but not
the guy. Josh glances at it, shakes his head.

JOSH:
Nope. Not him.

Josh looks back at his yearbook, then pulls Claire's back. He
traces down a row, and a few to the right of the not-the-guy.

To the guy.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
But this is.

INT. SCHOOL OFFICE-NIGHT

The lock rattles and scrapes, the handle turns and the door
opens; Josh pulls the scraps of a paperclip out of the lock,
tosses them into a nearby trash can. Claire follows him in.

CLAIRE:
That was disturbingly easy.

Josh shrugs.

JOSH:
Nowhere's impregnable. And schools
are way down the list of places to
defend. Right below the DMV, and
right above Starbucks. I'm also
blessed with talents nobody my age
who's not a gangbanger should have.
Comes in handy.

CLAIRE:
Yeah. I bet. Fail a class, just
break in and make an A.

Josh pauses.

JOSH:
Hadn't thought of that. Hello
Harvard.

CLAIRE:
So what're we looking for?

JOSH:
Records for CHRIS MASON, former
student, current would-be mugger,
class of 2005. Where would that be?

Claire beelines for a PC on the front desk. Turns it on.

CLAIRE:
Now all we need is a password.
Which is your problem. School's
paranoid on e-security. I was an
aide last year, and the passwords
are all randomly generated, new
every semester.

JOSH:
How long?

CLAIRE:
Eight. Numbers and letters, case
sensitive. How does that help?

Josh shakes his head, bends to look under the desk counter.

JOSH:
It doesn't.

Josh peers at a bulletin board flyer. Ad for an office job.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
But, knowing the city only pays a
pittance over minimum wage to do
this job, that says people aren't
paid enough to care about security.

CLAIRE:
Okay. And that helps how?

Josh pulls open a drawer. Pens, pencils, stamps, pads of hall
passes, staples. Etc.

JOSH:
If you're not paid enough to care
about security, you're not paid
enough to memorize any kind of
random password every few months.
Which means, if you're lazy-- and
they're lazy, or were when they
signed me up-- you write it down
and hide it--

Josh reaches inside and up, and withdraws a bright green Post
It. On it: "n3VePraQ".

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Here. Try this: "n3VePraQ".

Claire types a password in under a name already loaded. Logs
in. Smooth sailing.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
You know how to find records?

CLAIRE:
Did it everyday.

JOSH:
Chris Mason, '05.

Claire opens a program, types in the info. The screen
refreshes to the data for Chris Mason, class of 2005.

CLAIRE:
Here he is. Chris Mason, June 21,
1986. GPA 2.4; dropped big time his
senior year. Submitted transcripts
to a few state universities, a
couple real reaches. No logged
acceptances, which means he didn't
go anywhere. Address at graduation:
532 Green St.

JOSH:
You know where that is?

CLAIRE:
Yeah. Not far.

Josh hesitates a few seconds.

JOSH:
You up for giving me a ride?

Claire looks Josh in the eye.

CLAIRE:
You got his only gun?

JOSH:
Unless he's forgone food to
assemble an army in his mom's
basement. I'm thinking yeah.

CLAIRE:
Okay then.

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

Cohen stumbles into the bathroom, weighed down with several
bottles of drain cleaner hanging from both arms, from an
assortment of stores.

He drops the bags, kneels, and uncaps a bottle.



END OF ACT TWO
ACT THREE

EXT. 532 GREEN STREET-NIGHT

Claire stops in front of a house. Or, what's probably a
house, behind the brick wall and iron gate. Josh gets out,
tugs the gate. Claire comes up behind him.

CLAIRE:
Big house.

She peers in at a mansion; nothing fancy, entry level,
probably no tennis courts.

JOSH:
Sure is. How do you go from this to
street muggings?

Claire shrugs.

CLAIRE:
Drugs, or just general falling out
with his parents, I'd guess. There
an intercom?

Josh glances to his left. There is. He presses a button.

A few seconds' pause, and sleepy voice comes back.

MR. MASON:
It's 3 o'clock in the morning.

JOSH:
Mr. Mason?

MR. MASON:
DR. MASON?

JOSH:
Okay. Dr. Mason. I need to talk to
you about your son. Chris.

...

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Dr. Mason?

There's a clanking, and the gate opens. The intercom buzzes.

DR. MASON:
I'll meet you at the door.

INT. MASON KITCHEN-NIGHT

Dr. Mason walks in, flicks a light on. He's forty-ish,
average height and weight, bland all around. Chris, plus 20
years. Josh and Claire follow. Mason leans against a counter,
stares at them.

DR. MASON:
Who are you?

Josh pauses a second.

JOSH:
The truth?

DR. MASON:
Preferably.

JOSH:
I stopped your son mugging a man
tonight. And I think he's done
something worse. Is he around?

Mason straightens.

DR. MASON:
Chris mugged somebody? Who?

Josh shrugs.

JOSH:
Older guy. Just someone.

DR. MASON:
And you think he's done something
worse than that? Why?

JOSH:
I just do. Can I see him?

DR. MASON:
He's not here. Hasn't been in more
than a year.

JOSH:
You're not lying.

DR. MASON:
No, I'm not.

JOSH:
So he moved out?

Mason shake his head.

DR. MASON:
I kicked him out.

CLAIRE:
Drugs?

Josh shoots Claire a "stop peeing on the potted plant" look.

DR. MASON:
Good guess.

Claire smirks.

CLAIRE:
So what happened?

DR. MASON:
Chris played basketball. Senior
year, he tore his knee up. He
wasn't good enough for scholarship,
but it still knocked him down.
After his surgery, he got hooked on
pain pills. Stole my partner's
prescription pad, started forging.
I found out, managed to cover it up
and keep him out of jail. He
refused rehab, I kicked him out.

JOSH:
Harsh.

DR. MASON:
He could've destroyed my practice.
And he had no remorse. I didn't
have a choice.

The intercom on the wall pops softly. Josh glances at it
quickly, then back.

JOSH:
Know anybody who'd have an idea
where he's living?

Dr. Mason shrugs.

DR. MASON:
No.

Josh nods.

JOSH:
I guess I'll go then. But-- I'm
sorry, just, you think I could use
your bathroom?

Dr. Mason stares at Josh a second. Shrugs.

DR. MASON:
Upstairs. Third on the left.

JOSH:
Thanks.

INT. MASON UPSTAIRS HALL-NIGHT

Josh reaches the landing and pauses. Slips down the hall,
silent, until he sees a door decorated with photos of teen
heartthrobs and singers. He knocks.

.... The door opens. A GIRL of 13 peers out, up at Josh.

JOSH:
Hey, I'm Josh. I think your brother
needs help. Think I can get a hand?

INT. MASON KITCHEN-NIGHT

Josh strides back in. Claire and Mason sit across from each
other, quiet. Josh smiles gratefully.

JOSH:
Thanks a lot. Busy night.

DR. MASON:
You're welcome.

Claire gets up and the pair head out. Dr. Mason's throat
interrupts them.

DR. MASON: (CONT'D)
Look-- If you do happen to find
Chris, could you tell him to call
me? His, uh, grandmother's sick. He
should know.

"Grandmother". Right. Josh gets it, nods.

JOSH:
Absolutely.

INT. CLAIRE'S CAR-NIGHT

Claire starts the car, looks at Josh.

CLAIRE:
So, dead end. Home?

Josh shakes his head.

JOSH:
Nope. I know where he lives.

CLAIRE:
How? Did you touch something of
his, get a flash?

Josh frowns at her.

JOSH:
Do I come off that cheesy? I mean,
I don't wear a turban or anything--
I asked his kid sister.

EXT. SKETCHY APARTMENT BUILDING-NIGHT

Josh and Claire stand by the car, staring at the building.

CLAIRE:
He's in there?

JOSH:
According to his sister.

CLAIRE:
What can you tell?

JOSH:
Nothing, from here.

CLAIRE:
So what's the plan?

Josh glances at her.

JOSH:
The plan?

CLAIRE:
Yeah. What're we going to do?

Josh sighs.

JOSH:
I'm going to go inside, and figure
out which place is his.
You're going to wait in the car,
doors locked, engine running, and
you're going to take off if
anything seems remotely wrong.

CLAIRE:
But--

JOSH:
Look, I'm glad you're not, you
know, terrified. Really. But I
really have no idea what's going to
happen. It was better thinking he
was living with his parents. But
he's not. Makes it dangerous, and
I'm not risking you. Okay?

Claire shrugs.

CLAIRE:
Fine. You're right, I know.

JOSH:
Okay. If you don't hear from me in
a half hour, call the cops.

CLAIRE:
Why don't we just call them now?

Good question.

JOSH:
I don't know. It doesn't feel
right.

CLAIRE:
Why not?

JOSH:
I don't know. It's just a thing.

Claire's eyes brighten and she nods knowingly.

CLAIRE:
A vision thing?

JOSH:
No, a perfectly normal, non-potentially dangerous mental
disorder thing.

CLAIRE:
That's not nearly as cool.

JOSH:
To you, maybe.

Josh starts across the street. He turns back.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Thirty minutes--

CLAIRE:
Call the cops, got it.

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

Cohen sets aside one bottle, and opens another. He upends it
over the tub, liquid sloshes in.

He stares fixedly away, jaw fixed in that special way only
those holding back their last meal can manage.

INT. SKETCHY APARTMENT BUILDING, HALLWAY-NIGHT

Josh peers at a list, stapled to the wall. Probably updated
every few days. There's a listing for Chris Mason, 4D. Josh
starts up a staircase with a loose iron banister.

INT. CLAIRE'S CAR-NIGHT

Claire sits staring at the darkness, a little pale, a little
shaky. A shadow moves across the car, and she jumps with a
squeak. She peers around, and sees--

EXT. SKETCHY APARTMENT BUILDING-CONTINUOUS

Chris Mason, same guy from the yearbook photo, a year older,
few pounds lighter, and heading home. Claire's eyes widen,
and she fumbles out her phone.

INT. SARA'S BEDROOM-NIGHT

SARA CARSON's cell phone chirps loudly. And again. Again.

Again. Again. Jeez. Wake up, already.

A bedside lamp clicks on, and Sara sits up, hands rub her
eyes. She picks up the phone.

SARA:
Claire? Are you okay?

...

SARA: (CONT'D)
Josh's number? What?

INT. CLAIRE'S CAR-NIGHT

CLAIRE:
Look, there's like, no time. Do you
have it?

INT. SKETCHY APARTMENT BUILDING, HALLWAY-NIGHT

Josh's phone buzzes. On vibrate. Josh pulls it out, and slips
underneath the stairs.

JOSH:
What?

Josh listens, and his eyebrows ride an elevator.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Thanks.

INT. SKETCHY APARTMENT BUILDING, HALLWAY-NIGHT

Chris Mason climbs the last few stairs slowly, and heads for
his door. He fishes his keys out, and slips it into the lock,
steps inside.

Josh slips from the stairs, and sprints silent to the door,
slipping his driver's license into the door as it shuts.

Josh lets out a silent breath. Then he eases the door open.

INT. CHRIS' APARTMENT-CONTINUOUS

Stained carpet, brown walls. A tiny space with a kitchenette
to one side, a living room/bedroom going on to the other,
outfitted with a mattress and a battered combo VCR/TV.

Directly ahead, a bathroom with no door, just a curtain
pushed aside. Chris Mason pulls his shirt off, missing Josh's
entrance.

The door shuts, Chris Mason spins.

And Josh's mouth drops open.

His eyes stares at the young man's chest. Arms. Bruises
everywhere. A few clearly the shape of the revolver's butt.
Chris stares at Josh with panicked eyes.

JOSH:
Dude, I am so sorry.



END OF ACT THREE
ACT FOUR

EXT. SKETCHY APARTMENT BUILDING-NIGHT

The building's door crashes open. Josh and Chris run outside.

They reach the car. Josh opens the door and pushes Chris
inside, leans in--

JOSH:
Take him home, all right?
(to Chris)
You got the wallet?

Chris fumbles in his pants, hands it over.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Thanks.

CLAIRE:
Josh.

JOSH:
Yeah?

Claire nods at Chris.

CLAIRE:
Isn't he bad?

Josh shakes his head.

JOSH:
Just unlucky. He's harmless. I've
got to go.

Josh straightens.

CLAIRE:
Wait.

Back down.

JOSH:
Yeah?

CLAIRE:
You going to get yourself killed?

JOSH:
Not unless something goes very,
very wrong.

CLAIRE:
You have that habit.

Take "the potted plant", replace with "the neighbor's foot".

JOSH:
There's no choice, and no time. Go!

Claire bites her lip and looks at Josh.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Now would be good.

She shifts and pulls away. Josh watches the car round the
corner. Then down at the wallet in his hands.

It's open to a driver's license. Tom Hackett, of 1232 Rainier
Ave., Keene, Washington.

INT. KINNIT'S OFFICE-NIGHT

Kinnit's office is dark. The entire place is, actually. He's
in his chair, feet on his desk, out cold.

His phone rings. Kinnit snaps awake, and he goes backward
with his chair. He sits up, grabs the phone.

KINNIT:
Detective Kinnit, Keene Police, how
may I help you?

Kinnit listens. He wakes up fast.

KINNIT: (CONT'D)
Don't do anything. Be right there.

INT. COHEN'S BATHROOM-NIGHT

Cohen empties yet another bottle. The tub's full. He leans
back against it, and puts his head in his hands.

A phone rings. Cohen's head comes up. He starts to his feet.

INT. COHEN'S OFFICE-NIGHT

Cohen enters, and stops dead, stares at the closed computer.
The speakers still work--

KINNIT:
(on computer)
Detective Kinnit, Keene Police, how
may I help you?

JOSH:
This is Josh Shepherd. From
earlier. That mugger was the
victim. I'm on my way to Hackett's
house. The address is--

EXT. 1232 RAINIER, BACKYARD-NIGHT

Nice house. Older, a bit faded, but nice. High privacy fence
covered with ivy. A shape rolls over the top of the fence and
drops into the yard, in a crouch.

It's Josh.

The house is mostly dark. Only two windows on the second
story are lit. Josh stands up and backs against the ivy, eyes
fixed on them.

Nothing for a couple of seconds, then Hackett paces past the
smaller window, toothbrush in hand and mouth.

Out of a sight a second. He pace past again head back, mouth
open. Gargling. Back out of sight.

The bathroom light winks out. Hackett passes the other
window, then that light winks out.

Peaceful. If only it weren't the creepy kind.

INT. 1232 RAINIER, HACKETT'S BEDROOM-NIGHT

Pitch black. A soft creak, dim light from the door leaks in.

The door swings wide, Josh's outline black on the half-light
of the hall.

Bedsprings squeak, and a light switches on. Hackett stares,
baffled, at Josh, who's got one hand behind his back.

HACKETT:
Josh?

Josh's face gives nothing. He enters fully, steps to the side
and leans against a dresser. There's that same set to his jaw
as Cohen's. The vomit-block.

HACKETT: (CONT'D)
Josh, what are you doing here?

Josh is silent for a long second. Then--

JOSH:
It wasn't the first time.

Hackett's expression shifts: true confusion to feigned.

HACKETT:
What're you talking about?

JOSH:
I had an interesting talk with
Chris Mason.

HACKETT:
Who?

Josh nods.

JOSH:
Right, you probably didn't get his
name. Harder to do what you did if
they get an identity.

Hackett starts to swing his feet to the floor. Far too fast.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Stop.

Hackett does, feet halfway to the carpet.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Feet on the bed. You try anything,
remember I'm nearly 40 years
younger, faster than you ever were,
and supremely uninterested in
having you see dawn. Got me?

Hackett nods, and moves his feet back onto the bed.

Josh leans forward, and his hand comes in view. A baggie of
meat. It'd be nice if it were pork, but that's just not how
Hackett rolls, is it?

JOSH: (CONT'D)
You should hide it better. False
wall or something. Basement
freezer's half-baked.

Josh gives a hollow laugh.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
But maybe you go raw.

Josh pitches it at Hackett, who misses it. The package hits
him hard in the stomach.

HACKETT:
Josh, what do you think this is?

JOSH:
I know what it is. And in a few
minutes, so will the Keene Police
Department. And quite probably most
of the country. Cannibalism trumps
just about every celebrity.

Hackett starts to his feet again.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
What's downstairs makes you
expendable. Stay where you are.

Sirens. Far off, but growing louder.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Chris really got lucky. People that
won't be missed, I guess?
Hitchikers, homeless, downtrodden?
I knew you were bad, but-- God. How
long you been operating?

HACKETT:
Josh, I--

JOSH:
You're right, I don't want to know.
I want to sleep sometime this year.

Sirens are close now. No more than thirty seconds away.
Probably less. Hackett is flushed, starting to squirm. Not
worth pretending anymore.

HACKETT:
How did you know?

JOSH:
Chris told me. Didn't really need
to, though. I saw the bruises. No
way the attacker ends up that way.

Hackett nods, bows his head, seems to resign. Then--

He hurls the frozen baggie at Josh's head. Josh cocks his
head to one side, and it collides with the wall.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
I'm very quick, Mr. Hackett.

Josh half-glances at the baggie.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Not really, though.

...

JOSH: (CONT'D)
One question. You offered me a
ride. Why?

Hackett's stares down at the blankets. A long few seconds
pass. Sirens are right there now. Blue and red swirl in the
windows. Car doors slam. A knock at the front.

Hackett looks up. There's nothing really human there. Rage
and hunger barely restrained.

HACKETT:
You're very lean.

EXT. 1232 RAINIER-DAWN

A whole mess of police cars, two vans claiming medical
examiner, news vans too fill the street in front. The whole
shebang. The sky's lightening behind the blue and red and
lime lights. Onlookers gawk.

The front door opens, and two officers escort Tom Hackett,
cuffed, across the lawn, shortly followed by Kinnit,
escorting somebody covered by his coat.

Hackett is put into a black-and-white. Reporters crowd the
car, bulbs flash, REPORTERS clamor.

Kinnit is unnoticed putting the Coathead into his car.

INT. KINNIT'S CAR/JOSH'S HOUSE-DAWN

Kinnit rolls to a stop. He looks in the backseat. Josh pushes
the coat forward.

JOSH:
Thanks for that.

KINNIT:
It's probably the best thing all
around. The city doesn't need
asking why a 17 year old's cracking
a serial murder case.

JOSH:
Probably not.

KINNIT:
Why did you try and find Chris?

Josh shrugs.

JOSH:
He looked like he needed help. Even
if he were a mugger.

KINNIT:
Did he get it?

Josh looks down, then glances out the window.

Claire sits on the porch, freshly showered and dressed eyes
on the car, expectant.

JOSH:
I think so. Hope, anyway.

Kinnit follows Josh's gaze.

KINNIT:
Girlfriend?

Josh whirls around, astammer.

JOSH:
Huh, what? No. Just a friend.

Kinnit smirks.

KINNIT:
Of course.

EXT. JOSH'S HOUSE-DAWN

Josh walks across the lawn, Kinnit drives off. Claire starts
toward him. A yard apart they stop.

JOSH:
How's Chris?

Claire smiles. Genuine, no fear, worry, just happy.

CLAIRE:
Good I think. Won't be easy, but
they both seemed happy to see each
other. How'd you do?

Josh wrinkles his nose.

JOSH:
Watch the news this morning.

Claire's eyes glance away and back.

CLAIRE:
That an invitation?

Josh freezes.

JOSH:
Uh--

CLAIRE:
I make a mean omelette. Hash
browns. Crispy bacon.

Josh shivers.

JOSH:
Everything but the bacon and you've
got a deal.

Claire shrugs.

CLAIRE:
Deal.

JOSH:
Okay, then.

Josh starts for the porch. As he passes Claire, her hand
slips in his. Josh pauses and glances down.

CLAIRE:
What?

Josh smiles and shakes his head.

JOSH:
Nothing.

INT. JOSH'S HOUSE-FOYER-DAWN

They enter, and Josh stops, looks up the stairs.

JOSH:
I'm just gonna change real quick,
okay?

Claire nods.

CLAIRE:
Sure, I'll get in here.

Claire heads for the kitchen, Josh climbs the stairs.

INT. JOSH'S HOUSE-JOSH'S ROOM-DAWN

Josh pushes his door open and strides inside, heads straight
for his dresser.

Josh pulls open a drawer, whips his shirt off--

The door's closed. Dr. Cohen's there. He slinks toward Josh.

WHITE FLASH.

Josh winces but immediately spins. Not quick enough. A
syringe plunges into Josh's neck. Cohen pulls out.

Josh staggers back against the dresser. He opens his mouth to
speak. Nothing. His eyes widen. Then he sags forward.

Cohen catches him and eases him the floor. Lies Josh on his
back. Cohen leans over him, looks into his eyes.

COHEN:
I've injected you with Sux; it's a
muscle relaxant. You're paralyzed.
Five minutes only. Listen.

Josh stares up into Cohen's face. Fear's about the only thing
comes across.

COHEN: (CONT'D)
You need to be careful.

Cohen reaches down and rummages Josh's pockets, fishes out
his wallet. He pulls out the black Amex.

COHEN: (CONT'D)
This is for emergencies. Literally
end-of-the-world. Not some stupid
crusade against a triad, not for
your friend's birthday. You use
this and don't run, they find you.
There is a limit to what I can
cover. You understand?

Rhetorical, then? Cohen's voice is shaking, his eyes plead.

COHEN: (CONT'D)
You've got questions, don't ask
them. Start over. You came home;
not ideal, but the tracks are
hidden, so you got a shot. Go to
school, college, have a life.
Forget. I can't save you again.

Cohen's watch beeps. He looks at it.

COHEN: (CONT'D)
Out of time.

Cohen leans down, kisses Josh's forhead.

COHEN: (CONT'D)
You're good. That's your weakness,
but it's good thing. Don't let it
get you killed.

JOSH'S POV

Cohen stands and walks out of sight. A window scrapes open.
Wind whistles. Josh wheezes, and his view fades into black.



END OF SHOW

Frameshift: All In

Enjoy, comments and criticism appreciated:

Frameshift: "All In"



TEASER

EXT. CLIFF-NIGHT

An empty stretch dirt spotted with rugged vegetation; no one
around, no roads, no lightposts, nothing. Just the moon
overhead and shining off the ocean, lapping against the base
of the cliff, a hundred feet below. Trees back the cliff for
a long stretch.

The sound of a car engine, growing louder. Louder.

Headlights break through the trees and illuminate the vaguest
concept of a path. Overgrown with grass, weeds, even a few
determined saplings that are cut down as a VAN-- with an
EXTERMINATOR'S LOGO on the side-- idles onto the bluff.

It drives out to the edge. Stops. Headlights wink out, engine
cuts off. The door opens.

DR. PAGET climbs out the van. The keys still in-- the van
rings its alert until Paget shuts the door. He goes to the
back of the van, pulls his gloves tighter and pushes.

The van rolls forward and the front wheels drop off. Paget
pushes further before the van overbalances. He backs up, the
van falls out of sight.

Down a hundred feet, crashing onto the rocks and water below.

Paget takes a few deep breaths, then steps to the edge. He
gazes down at the van, still mostly in one piece. He takes a
remote detonator from his pocket. Presses the button.

A hundred feet down, the van explodes, blown to pieces, the
fire quickly extinguished by the waves. Paget absently wipes
the detonator on his pants despite his gloves, then tosses it
into the water.

Then he drops to his knees and heaves.

INT. NOAH'S ROOM-DAY

The end of an episode of "Battlestar Galactica" (plays on the
television.

CU, Josh's face, awed.

JOSH:
Wow.

Noah walks past Josh's feet, straight in the air. He halts a
stopwatch.

NOAH:
Okay, that's an hour.

Josh lowers his feet and comes out of his headstand. He looks
at Noah.

JOSH:
Really? Hardly noticed.

NOAH:
See what happens when you skip a
decade? And you haven't even seen
"24" yet. Pop culture decimation,
it's just inhuman.

JOSH:
It's just a TV show, Noah.

Noah stares at him as if slapped.

NOAH:
Right, and an hour long headstand
and four minute mile are just
interesting.

JOSH:
I told, you must've hit the button
early.

NOAH:
Three times?

JOSH:
Incredibly punctual epilepsy.

NOAH:
Lunch.

JOSH:
Your watch?

NOAH:
Turkey and swiss, I thought. But we
can swing Timex on rye.

INT. NOAH'S HOUSE, HALLWAY-DAY

Noah, Josh, walk down a nicely decorated hallway; paintings,
couple sculptures.

JOSH:
Why do you even need to know I can
run a four minute mile?

NOAH:
Same reason I need to know if you
can tell me what sort of underwear
I'm wearing.

JOSH:
Latent homosexuality?

NOAH:
No. Figuring out what's up with
you, since you don't seem very
concerned about it.

JOSH:
That's because there's nothing I
can do about it.

NOAH:
You can't diagnose a disease if you
don't know the symptoms. You'll
never know what happened to you if
you don't know what you can do.

JOSH:
How does knowing I can run help?

NOAH:
It doesn't. Knowing you can run at
speed only Olympians tend to reach
does. And the fact that you can see
anything, that's odd. I want to see
what your limits are, because then
I can try and find out how you go
about maki--

BANG! BANG!

Josh and Noah stop dead. Josh turns to Noah. Shrugs.

JOSH:
Didn't see that coming.

Josh sprints down the hall in the direction of the shots.
Noah runs back to his room.



END OF TEASER
ACT ONE

INT. NOAH'S HOUSE, HALLWAY 2-DAY

Josh jumps the last four steps of a highly polished staircase
and barrels down a plainer hall; just paint and walls.

BANG!

He stops and eyes a closed door. Edges up to it and pushes it
open an inch.

INT. NOAH'S HOUSE, KITCHEN-CONTINUOUS

A THUG, a 30-ish Chinese man, aims a gun at a MAID's head.
She's on the ground, crying, and spouting off a chain of
Mandarin. The Thug yells something, then presses the gun to
her head, forcing her to the ground.

Josh leans back and lets the door close. It creaks, Josh
halts it fast, but it's late.

The Thug looks at the door and forgets the Maid. He walks
over to the door, around an island counter.

Josh takes a deep breath as the Thug gets closer, then closes
his eyes. The Thug steps in front of the door. Josh leaps
into action.

He slams the door open, knocking the Thug backwards into the
kitchen. Josh comes through the door, knees him in the groin,
smashes his wrist against the counter, and takes the gun,
ejects the magazine and the chambered round, and tosses them
away.

The Thug tries to fight back, and Josh quickly has him on the
ground. Josh hauls him up and drags him to a rear door, and
throws him out.

JOSH:
(in Mandarin)
Don't come back. I have your gun.

Josh slams the door. Noah bursts through the other one
wielding a baseball bat and roaring. He freezes when he sees
the empty kitchen. Sets the bat down.

NOAH:
Nevermind.

...

NOAH: (CONT'D)
What happened?

Josh shrugs, points at Noah's maid.

JOSH:
Ask her.

Josh goes over to the woman, still shell-shocked on the
floor. He crouches.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
(in Mandarin-- still)
Are you okay? What happened?

The woman stares at Josh. So does Noah.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
(yeah, still)
Can you talk?

NOAH:
Josh?

JOSH:
(English)
What?

NOAH:
Care to translate?

JOSH:
Translate what?

NOAH:
Chinese to English, apparently.

JOSH:
I'm not speaking Chine--

Josh turns to the Maid.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
(Mandarin)
Am I speaking Chinese?

The Maid nods.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Huh.
(Mandarin)
Do you speak English?

MAID:
(heavy accent, but clear
enough)
Yes.

JOSH:
(English)
Then let's talk.

INT. NOAH'S HOUSE, KITCHEN-LATER

Noah is fiddling with a stove and a teapot. The Maid is
sitting at a small breakfast table, shivering. Josh leans
against the counter.

JOSH:
Who was that guy?

She doesn't respond. Just stares at her hands, blank.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Noah?

NOAH:
What?

JOSH:
What's her name?

Noah looks at his feet.

NOAH:
We have a lot of help.

Josh rolls his eyes, turns back to the maid.

JOSH:
Look, you're safe. He's gone, can't
hurt you. So, easy question: what's
your name?

The maid looks up. She's mid-, late twenties, probably pretty
if she weren't terrified.

MAID:
AN.

JOSH:
Okay. Nice to meet you, An. I'm
Josh, that's Noah... Maybe you've
met him.

Josh glances at Noah, who gives AN/MAID a wave.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Now, not to be pushy, but there was
a guy with a gun. Begs questions
outside war zones and Texas. Feel
like telling us who he was? I've
got some ideas, but you know better
than me.

An looks away; her entire body seems to clam up.

AN:
It's not your problem.

NOAH:
You know, she's got a point.

JOSH:
Handle the tea. An?

An looks at Josh.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
You're right. Not my business. But,
the guy shot up my friend's house.
Makes that Noah's business, and the
damage-- that makes it police
business.

Josh takes out his cell phone. An seizes his wrist.

AN:
No, don't.

Josh sets the phone down and crouches level with An.

JOSH:
Then tell me how much.

Noah comes to the table.

NOAH:
What are you talking about, "how
much"?

JOSH:
How much she owes. For her passage.
I'm not wrong, am I An?

An looks away again.

AN:
No.

JOSH:
Then how much?

AN:
Two hundred.

NOAH:
Thousand?

JOSH:
Just you?

An shakes her head.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Who else?

AN:
Mother. Sister. Brothers. Daughter.

JOSH:
How much more do you owe?

AN:
Two hundred. Was two hundred fifty.

Josh's eyes go far and he nods to himself.

JOSH:
An?

An looks up.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
It'll be okay.

Josh straightens, takes Noah away toward the stove.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
I need a suit, a thousand dollars,
and one of your dad's better cars.
Can you manage it?

NOAH:
What do you need--

JOSH:
Later. Can you get it?

Noah pauses a second. Slow nod.

NOAH:
Yeah. Dad's out of town. Diet book
tour. LA this week, I think.
Evidently they're still eating too
much.

JOSH:
You can get all of it?

NOAH:
Yeah. You're near my dad's size,
and my allowance is obscene.

JOSH:
I bet.
(Josh glances at An)
Did you really not know her name?

NOAH:
A lot of help. And my mom's
demanding. You try to remember how
many ice cubes in what drink and
see how long you last.

The teapot screams. Josh grabs the pot, not the handle, and
takes it off.

Noah scans the counter, then turns to An.

NOAH: (CONT'D)
Where's the tea?

INT. NOAH'S HOUSE, GARAGE-DAY

Noah and Josh enter through a door. The place is clean,
large, housing a half dozen cars, none of them with a
pricetag under 35k. Noah leads Josh to a BMW sedan.

NOAH:
This is the most money I'll let you
behind the wheel of. Automatic
transmission, so you shouldn't have
trouble there. Been practicing?

JOSH:
Gran Turismo count?

NOAH:
No.

JOSH:
Then no.

Noah shrugs.

NOAH:
I'll keep the help out of the
garage, leave one of the doors up.
If you crash, tell me so I can
report it stolen.

JOSH:
Anyone ever tell you you're a fine,
upstanding young man?

Noah grins.

NOAH:
All the time. But they don't know
what I read. Now, onto the money
issues.

Noah take his wallet out and removes ten hundred dollar bills
and gives them to Josh, who stares at the cash.

JOSH:
You carry this much in your wallet?

NOAH:
I told you my allowance is obscene.
Absentee parents pay well. Don't do
a lot else well, but the money's
good.

Awkward silence, 'cause Noah's good at those.

NOAH: (CONT'D)
Anyway-- let's get you dressed.

EXT. JOSH'S HOUSE-DAY

A BOY of about 14 finishes mowing the last bit of the lawn.
He shuts the mower off, wipes sweat from his forehead, then
goes to the front door and knocks. It opens, and DAN KENDALL
is revealed. He steps out of the way, beckons the boy in.

Across the street, there's a light colored car. A rental,
with all the genericity that comes with that.

INT. CAR-DAY

Dr. COHEN sits in the driver's seat, eyes on the house. The
door closes, and he turns to the passenger seat.

A laptop sits there, lid half closed. Cohen opens it up and
watches a four panel split screen. The front door, kitchen,
Josh's room, and bathroom.

Dan and the boy pass out of the frame covering the front
door. The screens are empty a second, then they enter the
kitchen. Dan takes a bottle of water from the fridge, hands
it to the boy, then leaves the frame again.

The boy takes couple gulps and Dan's back. He hands the boy a
check. The boy leaves the kitchen, passes briefly through the
front door frame, and is back in the front yard in seconds.

Cohen watches as the boy hops onto a bicycle by the door and
pedals down the drive and up the street, past Cohen's car and
on.

Dr. Cohen shifts the car into gear and drives away.

INT. NOAH'S HOUSE, PARENT'S ROOM-DAY

Noah sits on a large bed, intricate headboard, shiny wood
night stands, thick carpet. Like the rest of the house bar
the service halls, luxury. Noah talks to a shut door.

NOAH:
So... You speak Chinese.

A pause from the door.

JOSH:
I guess so.

NOAH:
Any idea how you learned it?

JOSH:
I don't think I did. What's the
inseam on these pants?

NOAH:
Too short?

JOSH:
A bit.

NOAH:
Don't worry, your socks will match,
no one should notice. So how do you
speak Chinese without learning it?

Josh sighs. The door opens and he comes out in pants an inch
too short. Noah tosses him a jacket from the bed.

JOSH:
I can't now. I only could when I
was near An. And TRIAD THUG
GUY[/Enforcer]. It just sort of
synced up, sounded English.

NOAH:
So, like, linguistic Bluetooth?

JOSH:
Maybe, if you want to tell me what
that is.

NOAH:
Not important. I keep forgetting
the missing decade bit.

JOSH:
Lucky you.

Hey, Josh managed one....

NOAH:
So, like, how're you doing? With
all that stuff?

Josh pulls the jacket on. It is, like the pants, on the small
side.

JOSH:
Fine. Or not. Depends on the day.
Some days the... Gap is more
obvious than others. School days
suck, half the slang goes over my
head, lost on TV shows and movies.
Don't even ask about music. But I'm
not about to, you know, go all
bibbledy-wonky and top myself.

NOAH:
"Bibbledy-wonky"?

Josh shrugs.

JOSH:
Crazy. Add it to your Josh Shepherd
Decade Gap question file. File it
after four minute mile and before
possibly schizophrenic delusions.
Seems like a good middle on the
normal scale. Do I need a tie?

Noah shrugs.

NOAH:
Depends. Where're you going?

JOSH:
Illegal casino. If you've got a
hundred fifty thousand immigration
debt from a Triad, I'm guessing
that'll be near the abandoned
warehouses by the docks.

NOAH:
Does this town have those?

JOSH:
We have docks? International
shipping?

NOAH:
Well-- yeah.

JOSH:
Then you've got abandoned dockside
warehouses. I think it might be a
union thing.

Noah nods and stands.

NOAH:
Yeah, you need a tie. So, what're
you going to do at this illegal
casino?

JOSH:
Multiply a grand one hundred and
fifty-fold.

NOAH:
Right. Of course. And how're you
gonna do that?

JOSH:
I figured I'd take advantage of my
possibly schizophrenic delusions.
Just because you're crazy doesn't
mean you can't help people out.

NOAH:
And why are you helping?

Josh shrugs and looks away.

JOSH:
You've seen me fight. I doubt
that's just from after-school
classes. So, call it my attempt at
preempting karma.

NOAH:
You don't think karma already hit?
You were shot three times, nearly
killed by your guidance counselor,
and caught up in a black-ops money
laundering scheme.

Josh smirks.

JOSH:
Well, then, I guess it'll be smooth
sailing tonight, huh?

KNOCK, KNOCK. The bedroom door opens and SARA CARSON enters.

SARA:
Your, uh, butler let me in. What's
up?

JOSH:
You got plans tonight?

SARA:
Nothing definite.

JOSH:
Good. How do you feel about playing
distraction while I count cards to
win a hundred fifty thousand in an
illegal casino to pay off a Triad
for Noah's maid's family's illegal
emigration from China?

Sara mulls that over.

SARA:
I feel... You should go on anti
psychotics.

JOSH:
But apart from that. And, to
sweeten the pot--

Josh opens another door. Walk-in closet, a fashion jackpot.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Lots of slinky dress choices. Eh?

Sara steps to Josh.

SARA:
Do you really think I'm that easy?
A nice dress and you expect me to
walk into a possible death trap?

JOSH:
There're shoes, too.

INT. NOAH'S HOUSE, GARAGE-NIGHT

Josh leans against the car, Noah bounces a rubber ball off
the wall.

NOAH:
So... Is this really the best way
to do this?

JOSH:
Depends. Do you have two hundred
thousand dollars you want to give
away?

NOAH:
I don't have two hundred thousand
dollars.

JOSH:
Then yeah, this is the best way.

NOAH:
And bringing Sara? That's just
dumb. Incredibly dangerous.

JOSH:
She'll be fine. I know what I'm
doing.

NOAH:
I kind of doubt it. I mean, a legal
casino doesn't take kindly to
getting cheated. An illegal one,
that's a death sentence to the
legal's life. I mean, do you even
know how to play anything? And
still, why are you taking her?
Josh?

Noah continues throwing the ball.

Sara clears her throat. She's standing in the doorway.
Gorgeous doesn't describe her. Gorgeous times 12 to the
powers of Stunning gets about halfway.

SARA:
So? Do I look okay?

Josh and Noah just stare. The ball smacks Noah in the
forehead.

EXT. CASINO WAREHOUSE-NIGHT

Josh and Sara get out of Noah's car. They're parked in a row
with other cars-- ranging from successful banker's mid-life
crisis to English Ph.D candidate's death trap-- in front of
big old warehouse, just the safe side of condemnable, windows
boarded up.

There's a door, though. A single light illuminating it and a
GUARD who could be the door, if you stuck a few hinges to
him.

Sara looks to Josh with a nervous smile.

SARA:
You ready?

Josh shakes his head.

JOSH:
Not even remotely.

Josh takes a deep breath and heads for the door.

Josh and Sara halt in front of the guard. Josh looks up at
him.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Hi.

The guard glowers down at Josh.

Josh reaches into his jacket. The guard tenses. Josh sighs
and pulls back.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Honestly, man, you're a head taller
and your bicep is the size of my
skull. What do you think I'd try?

Josh pulls out his wallet and opens it, displaying the cash.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
I just wanted to show you this.
What do you think, let me in to
lose my shirt?

The guard steps aside. Holds the door open for Josh

GUARD:
Good luck, sir. Miss.

Josh and Sara enter the casino.



END OF ACT ONE

ACT TWO

INT. CASINO WAREHOUSE-NIGHT

The heavy door closes behind them. Josh and Sara look around
at a whole 'nother world. The interior is everything the
exterior wasn't. The walls are clean, whole, painted in
bright red. Where the windows were boarded on the outside,
soft lighting beams down.

The casino floor is rich, vivid carpet. The entire floor of
the warehouse is covered in games, from slot machines to
blackjack to roulette. The place is buzzing.

Above the floor, 6 GUARDS dressed in dark suits patrol the
catwalks, eyes on the players and proceedings below.

Josh takes this all in, guards last, and laughs.

JOSH:
I can't believe I was right!

Sara glances at Josh.

SARA:
What're you on about?

Josh takes Sara's arm and they walk onto the floor.

JOSH:
Oh, come on. An illegal casino in
an abandoned warehouse by the
docks? Seriously, what're the odds?

SARA:
I thought you knew--

JOSH:
Wild guess. Educated, sure, but
still. It's so overdone, you don't
think anyone actually bothers
anymore. But here you go, Triad
running illegal immigration and
gaming right by the docks. Hidden
in the shadow of cliche. It's
frakkin' brilliant.

SARA:
Frakkin'?

JOSH:
New word I learned.

SARA:
Okay, so now you've found the
place, what's next? Just play until
you get enough money?

Josh stops, considers it. Then he nods.

JOSH:
Pretty much.

SARA:
Grand plan.

JOSH:
No, dumb plan. But it's the best
one that keeps everybody alive and
with all their fingers.

He starts walking again.

Sara stops dead, staring at Josh, puzzled.

SARA:
So why am I here? I mean, you're
the one playing, and I'm just
standing here?

Josh shrugs.

JOSH:
You didn't have anything better to
do, apparently.

She frowns.

SARA:
But you made it sound like you
needed--

JOSH:
Nevermind. Let's play some
blackjack.

Josh takes off towards the table. He sits down next to
ANOTHER PLAYER and across from the DEALER. He places all of
the money on the table. It promptly vanishes. Sara stands
over his shoulder. Josh looks up.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Relax. This is supposed to be fun.
Or maybe addictive. I forget which.

Sara sighs and shakes her head.

SARA:
Just hurry up and save someone's
life. I don't want to be here any
longer than I need to be.

Josh glances above at the guards. Mostly to himself:

JOSH:
Neither do I.

INT. JOSH'S HOUSE, FRONT DOOR-DAY

Dan pulls on a jacket and cranes his head, staring up the
stairs.

DAN:
Uh, this decade would be really
good. Or really anytime under the
drinking age.

ADRIENNE:
Two more minutes. My hair hates me.

DAN:
My boss already hates me. They'll
have a lot in common.

ADRIENNE:
Okay, just two seconds...

ADRIENNE SHEPHERD rushes down the stairs, still fussing
halfheartedly with her hair (even though it's fantastic) in a
black dress. She kisses Dan.

ADRIENNE: (CONT'D)
Okay. Now we can go.

Dan feints toward the stairs.

DAN:
Okay, just let me powder my nose
real quick.

EXT. JOSH'S HOUSE-NIGHT

Dan and Adrienne walk out of the house and to the car. Dan
opens the door for her, gets in the other side. The car pulls
out and drives away.

Right past the generic Cohen rental.

The street is empty for all of a few seconds. Then Dr. Cohen
gets out of the car and jogs across the street to Josh's
house.

He bends over one of several rocks lining plants along the
front. Cracks open the Hide-a-key, opens the front door, and
disappears inside.

INT. BACKROOM-CASINO-NIGHT

WHAM! Josh stumbles into a pile of empty boxes and staggers
back to his feet. His lip is bloodies and his eye is
swelling. He straightens, blinks, and turns--

To face the Thug from Noah's house.

INT. CATWALKS-CASINO WAREHOUSE-NIGHT

A closed office door opens and the Thug walks out onto the
catwalks. GUARD 1 approaches and exchanges a walkie-talkie
for a cup of coffee. The Thug walks out onto the catwalks and
stares down into space.

Into the blackjack pit.

At Josh.

MONTAGE

1. Josh collects a large pile of chips. The Thug's hand claps
onto Josh's shoulder.

2. Josh and Sara are forced by the Thug and GUARD 2 through
an ugly gray door hidden at the end of a row of slots.

3. The guard pistol whips in the BACKROOM Josh across the
eye, sending him nearly to the ground.

4. A second whack to the mouth from the gun, and Josh crashes
into the boxes.

INT. BACKROOM-CASINO-NIGHT

Okay, we're back. The thug takes another swing with the gun,
but Josh catches this one. He yanks the guard toward him,
wrenches the wrist hard, and takes the gun away.

Points it at the Thug's head.

CLICK. Josh glances at Guard 2, who has a machine pistol to
Sara's head. She's not taking it very well (understatement).

Josh shrugs and flips the gun, offering it back to the Thug.

JOSH:
We're not going to get anywhere
like this. How about you let me
talk to your boss?

The Thug reaches for the gun and Josh flips it, turns it back
on the Thug.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Just so there's no
misunderstanding, know you're only
breathing because I'm not inclined
to stop you doing it. Got me?

Josh hands the gun back.

INT. BACK HALLWAY-CASINO-NIGHT

The Thug leads the way, Josh and Sara walk side-by-side, with
Guard 2 covering them with his gun.

SARA:
(whispering throughout)
So, was this part of the plan?

JOSH:
(ditto)
Actually, it was the part I was
really hoping to avoid.

SARA:
Oh, well, good to know the
situation's under control.

JOSH:
Don't worry. It will be.

SARA:
Do I have a point yet?

JOSH:
Yes. When it happens, get away from
your guard.

SARA:
What's "it"?

JOSH:
You'll know.

SARA:
Yeah, that's not at all cryptic.

INT. JOSH'S HOUSE-JOSH'S ROOM-NIGHT

The door eases open, and Dr. Cohen slips into the room. Cohen
pulls out a flashlight, keeping the beam clear of windows.

Cohen goes to Josh's desk, opens a notebook. Notes, homework.
He flips to random pages. Nothing special. He shuts it.

Night stand. Opens the drawer. Odds and ends, neglected toys
from ten years past. Closes it.

Cohen crouches next to the bed, peers under. Spotless. He
raises the mattress. Pulls out just the edge of a magazine.
He slips it back, pulls out a notepad, and writes something.

Up, over to the dresser. He opens drawers. Top one, nothing
out of the ordinary. Second, just more old toys, kid's books.

Third, clothes. Cohen reaches in, rummages around, lifting
shirts, until-- Something. Josh's drawing pad. He lifts it
out, and takes it to the desk.

Opens it, flips past scenes from all of Josh's dreams and
visions. Portraits of Cohen himself, Josh's room and cell,
Keegan, Lily, Wendy.... Cohen takes out a digital camera and
begins shooting every page.

CLUNK! Cohen's head snaps up. He pockets the camera and kills
the torch, goes to the window, peers out.

EXT. JOSH'S HOUSE-NIGHT

Dan climbs out of the car. Adrienne looks out at him.

ADRIENNE:
I get grief over hair and you
forget your wallet? Who's the woman
around here?

Dan cocks his head and looks at Adrienne in her dress.

DAN:
You. Most definitely.

Adrienne smiles.

DAN: (CONT'D)
Two seconds, I swear.

Dan closes the door and sprints to the door.

INT. JOSH'S HOUSE-FRONT DOOR-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS

Dan rushes in, and starts up the stairs. Stops dead as he
sees Cohen coming down them.

They stare at each other

...

Dan steps back down them and to the side. Cohen comes down,
and looks at him.

DAN:
The back door is unlocked. Key?

Cohen reaches into a pocket and hands it over.

...

Cohen turns and exits into the kitchen. Dan watches him go.
Couple seconds, and a door knocks shut.

Dan turns and goes up the stairs.

INT. OFFICE-CASINO-NIGHT

The door (heavy, polished wood) opens and the Thug enters.
Josh and Sara follow. Josh stops dead and stares.

The office is richly decorated. Art on the walls, expensive
knick-knacks on the desk and some shelves along the walls, a
heavy, dark wood desk, a heavy Chinese man of around sixty
behind it.

FLASH: BEHIND THE DESK. THE TOP LEFT DRAWER WHOOSHES OPEN,
REVEALING A REVOLVER INSIDE. IT SLAMS SHUT AGAIN.

NEXT, A PAINTING ABOVE THE MAN'S HEAD. IT SWINGS OPEN ON
HINGES, REVEALING A SAFE.

Guard 2 pokes Josh in the back with his gun and shoves him
and Sara forward.

The Thug grabs Josh and shoves him toward the man behind the
desk. Guard 2 holds Sara back, moves off to the left.

THUG:
This boy wants to see you.

The man's English is perfect. Native. American accent.

Josh grins.

JOSH:
(to Thug)
How cute, you're American. No
wonder you're just muscle.

The man (MR. HUANG) behind the desk looks Josh up and down.
The suit's wrinkled, dusty. Josh is bruised and bloodied.

MR. HUANG:
(to Thug)
Why do I care?

There's the vaguest trace of an accent, but perfect English.

THUG:
He's persistent.

JOSH:
Actually, your man's just bad. He
can't kick my ass, so he's
referring me. But it's okay, you
and I have business anyway.

Huang looks at Josh like a cat looks at someone attempting to
pet it.

MR. HUANG:
Do we?

JOSH:
We do.

MR. HUANG:
And what, pray tell, is that?

JOSH:
A girl named An.

Mr. Huang looks at the Thug.

MR. HUANG:
Harry?

THUG/HARRY:
Cargo. Two hundred fifty
originally, fifty paid.

Mr. Huang nods.

MR. HUANG:
Okay, then, to business. I'm Mr.
Huang, pleased. Can you pay?

Josh sighs.

JOSH:
See, that's the problem. Your guy,
he came into my friend's house and
scared An and I just couldn't help
getting involved. So I decided I'd
help her out. Using your casino and
my ability to cheat. Only, Harry,
here kind of got in the way.

Huang perks up a bit now, jaw tightens. His hands recede on
the desktop. Josh eyes the left one.

MR. HUANG:
Is that right?

JOSH:
It is. So, considering how messy
things have gotten, I've decided
I'll simply give you the option of
forgiving the debt.

MR. HUANG:
Ah. I see.

Josh smirks.

JOSH:
Probably not.

MR. HUANG:
And... If I refuse?

Josh shrugs.

JOSH:
Something along the lines of "Or
else", cliche aside.

Mr. Huang smiles.

MR. HUANG:
Ah. Well, I am sorry to disappoint
you, but I'm refusing. And you are
leaving. And not pleasantly. For
you. Or your girlfriend.

Josh glances back at Sara. Guard 2's hand is running up, way
too close to her chest.

JOSH:
Oh. Well. Frak.

Harry puts his hand on Josh's shoulder. Somewhere between
instantly and a millisecond, Harry's head hits the desk and
he's down. Josh yanks Harry's gun free.

Lunges forward, pulls a letter open from a cup and pins
Huang's left hand to the desk. Josh then spins, pitches
Harry's gun at Guard 2. It slams his forehead, sends him--
not unlike a sack of potatoes, really-- to the floor.

Sara's free. Huang spins in his chair to use his right hand
to get the gun, too large to just reach across.

Josh vaults the desk, slams his feet into Huang's chest,
knocking the chair and him backwards, to the floor. A shred
of sleeve is left pinned on the desk.

Josh sits on the front edge of the chair, one foot pressed on
Huang's chest. He crouches down.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Welcome to the People's Republic of
Or Else. The exit fee just went up.

Josh looks back at Sara.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
There're some zip ties in the right
hand drawer. Hand me a couple?

INT. OFFICE-CASINO-LATER

Josh stands in front of the desk, placing money into a
leather case. He finishes, and shows the contents to Huang.

He's in his chair, arms zip tied to the chair, mouth duct
taped shut. He's pissed. Like, Carrie pissed.

JOSH:
Now, that's one hundred thousand
dollars. Fifty was paid, we can
forget all about that. You abused
your power, and kind of pissed me
off, so pretend you've been fined.
You probably made this back out
there tonight. The rest, let it go.
Trust me on that one, okay?

Huang just glares.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Okay?

Huang gives a quarter of a nod. Josh smiles.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Thanks. Good doing business with
you. An will be gone by morning, so
don't try payback through her. Come
after me, or anyone else, you will
be sorry. Again, trust that.

Josh turns to Sara.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Ready to go?

Sara doesn't say anything at all as they exit the office.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING-NIGHT

Sara follows Josh down a dingy, dilapidated hallway. He
knocks on a door that sounds barely thicker than cardboard.

The door cracks open and an eye peers out. Then the door
opens fully. An. Josh peers past her, into a one room
apartment crammed with FIVE OTHER PEOPLE.

Josh passes the case to An. She opens it and gapes at the
contents. Looks up, eyes wet.

JOSH:
Come on, there's not a lot of time.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING-NIGHT

Josh and An help an elderly woman, AN'S MOM, into the back of
an old FORD ECONOLINE. They shut the door on the others. Josh
turns to An.

JOSH:
I'd head for California, if I were
you. San Francisco might be a
decent idea. Chinatown and all.
There's nearly a hundred thousand
there. It should be enough to get
some decent papers for most of you.
Or a lawyer to sort out
immigration. Anyway, this is where
I end.

An stares at Josh, hugs him very hard very quickly and rushes
to the van. It starts up and pulls away. Josh and Sara watch
it go. Josh turns to Sara. She's crying.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Are you okay?

Sara wipes her eyes.

SARA:
No clue. On one hand, I want to
strangle you for nearly getting us
killed. But, then there's that--
(gesturing after the van)
Good job.

JOSH:
Thanks.

Sara steps closer.

SARA:
But don't do it again. Maybe it's
normal for you, but I can't handle
that. I thought we were dead. Or
worse. Just-- no more.

Sara turns away and walks back towards the car. Josh stares
after her; barely holding back tears of his own.

INT./EXT. SARA'S HOUSE-NIGHT

Josh stops the car. They sit for a few seconds before Sara
opens the door and climbs out. Slams the door. Josh takes a
deep breath, lowers the window.

JOSH:
Sara!

Sara stops and turns.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
I'm sorry.

Sara nods.

SARA:
Yeah. I know you are.

Then she turns and walks to her door. Enters.

Josh slumps back in his seat stares. Then leans forward and
lays his head against the steering wheel and exhales.



END OF ACT TWO
ACT THREE

INT. JOSH'S HOUSE-JOSH'S ROOM-NIGHT

The door swings open, and Josh plods into his room. Looks
around. Falls facedown across the bed.

Doesn't notice the dresser drawer, part open. Or the spine of
the drawing pad, hastily jammed in.

INT. JOSH'S HOUSE-JOSH'S ROOM-LATER

The door is still ajar. Dan slips into the room, scans the
room. Josh on the bed, the open drawer.

He goes to the dresser and eases it open. Lifts clothes and
shuffles the pad back under them. Pats it smooth.

Josh groans. Dan turns toward the noise. Then he crosses to
the bed, pulls the covers down over Josh; tucks him in.

EXT. SARA'S HOUSE-MORNING

Rain pours on everything. More nasty evening than morning.
Sara exits her house, runs to her car. Backs out of the drive
and pulls away, headlights on.

A DARK SEDAN watches for half a block, then starts after her.
No headlights.

INT. KEENE HIGH, HALLWAY-DAY

After school. The halls are full and loud. Josh leans in his
locker, head inside. The door bangs, and Noah pops around.

Josh hauls his head out and glowers at Noah. His eye is
purple and his lip a bit chubby.

JOSH:
Aren't I supposed to heal fast?

Noah shrugs.

NOAH:
Maybe it doesn't count when you do
something stupid.

Josh closes his locker. Not a slam, but not gentle. They
begin walking.

JOSH:
I help save a family, and all I get
is grief. How does that work?

NOAH:
It's not the helping An part that's
stupid. It was dragging Sara along.
What were you thinking?

Josh nods.

JOSH:
I wasn't. I guess... Impress her?
Like, being fastest on the monkey
bars at recess.

NOAH:
Only with guns and ruthless human
traffickers. Naturally.

JOSH:
She wasn't in any danger.

NOAH:
Your face doesn't seem to agree.

Josh stops. His eyes darken and lose focus.

JOSH:
It's weird. It's like, most of the
time, I'm 17, and there's just a
sort of... Blank. Other times, I'm
seven. Other times, it's between,
and there's sort of two of me. And
they're both whiners.

NOAH:
You did lose a decade. Can't expect
that to mean nothing. Aren't you
seeing someone?

Josh comes back. Shrugs.

JOSH:
Sure, but I can't exactly come
clean without getting tossed into a
padded room, can I?

NOAH:
Guess not. Besides, Sara's not
really mad at you. She's scared.

JOSH:
Yeah, she made that crystal clear
last night.

Josh starts off, Noah shakes his head and stops him.

NOAH:
No, she probably didn't. She's
scared for you.

JOSH:
How would you know?

Noah shrugs and half smiles.

NOAH:
I've got eyes. I can see how she
looks at you.

Josh's cell phone rings. He takes it out, glances at the
caller ID: Sara. He puts it to his ear.

JOSH:
Hey Sara.

MR. HUANG:
Try again, Mr. Shepherd.

Josh tenses and straightens. Glances around the hall at the
passing students, teachers, for something out of place.

JOSH:
Where are you?

MR. HUANG:
Nowhere near you, I'd think.
Despite last night's antics, I'm
not a stupid man. You and I have
unfinished business.

JOSH:
Do we?

MR. HUANG:
Oh, most certainly. As I'm sure
you're seeing, right about now.

The phone beeps again. Josh lowers it and looks at the
screen. Sara. Tied to a chair, half dressed, gagged.

Josh raises the phone.

JOSH:
How did you find me?

MR. HUANG:
I have my connections. A boy who's
lost ten years isn't low profile.

JOSH:
Why not me? What did she do?

MR. HUANG:
She was with you. You're
unpredictable, a risk. And you and
I still have business to do.
Business that requires you
breathing, unfortunately.

JOSH:
And that is?

MR. HUANG:
The money you stole back. And my
debtors. By midnight tonight. Or--
Let's just say, my transport runs
both ways, and exporting is
infinitely more unpleasant.

JOSH:
I don't have the money. I don't
know where An is.

MR. HUANG:
I sincerely hope you're lying, Mr.
Shepherd. For Sara's sake.
Midnight. Tonight. One chance.

Line goes dead. Josh lowers the phone, pale. Noah stares.

NOAH:
What happened?

Josh turns and leans against the row of lockers for a long
second. Taps his head against the doors gently.

Josh slams his fist into a locker door, makes a dent at least twice the expected.

EXT. HILLSIDE-AFTERNOON

Overlooking the sprawl of old warehouses. Still dreary gray,
but not raining anymore. To the left, the ocean, to the
right, town. Josh and Noah stand just inside the tree line,
staring down at the buildings.

Josh holds a pair of binoculars. Puts them to his eyes.

THROUGH BINOCULARS: Close-ups of the warehouses. The main
casino, two guards on the roof, four others on the perimeter.
Josh scans outward, another four roam a collection of rusting
cargo containers.

Josh lowers the binoculars.

JOSH:
At least ten. Probably more at
night. In the dark, probably an
extra couple, and the roof guards
lose meaning. This'll work.

NOAH:
So, what? Maybe 12, but you only
have to really worry about ten of
them? Is that a good thing?

Josh turns to Noah.

JOSH:
Very good. Because if I'm lucky, I
won't have to worry about any of
them.

NOAH:
But you're not lucky. Like, ever.

JOSH:
Shot three times, lived to tell the
tale.

NOAH:
Of amnesia.

JOSH:
Okay, so call it even money we're
screwed.

NOAH:
"We"?

JOSH:
Yeah. Can't do this without you.

NOAH:
And what are we doing?

Josh gazes down at the warehouses again. Focus on the casino
itself. He turns to Noah. Shrugs, looking younger than ever.

JOSH:
Going all in.

INT. BACKROOM-CASINO-AFTERNOON

Sara's still tied to a chair, gagged. Harry sits near the
door, eyes on her. Staring. Leering. He takes a long look at
his watch.

HARRY:
Six hours. Not much time at all.

He stands up, and walks close to Sara. Crouches down. Puts
his hand on her cheek. Sara flinches away, and he seizes her
face, pulls her close.

HARRY: (CONT'D)
Then you belong to us.
(his eyes rove down)
Every. Little. Inch of you.

Sara's eyes are wild with fear and disgust. Harry pulls her
to him and kisses her over the gag. Then he stands up and
backs to his chair. Sits down. Eyes still on her.

INT. ARMY SURPLUS-AFTERNOON

Broken down place. A basement store, dusty windows at street
level let trickles of gray light in. Josh and Noah come
through a door, bells jingle.

Noah sticks close to Josh as they approach a glass counter,
last cleaned during Reagan, containing everything from
compasses to canteens to medals.

NOAH:
Why are we here?

They reach the counter. Josh dings a tarnished counter bell.
Noah keeps just behind Josh.

A moment's silence, then hacking cough behind a curtain over
a doorway behind the counter.

The MANAGER comes out, pulling a threadbare fatigue top on
over a formerly white-- now yellow-- wifebeater. He's fifty
going on seventy, thoroughly disgracing the uniform.

Bloodshot eyes settle on Josh and Noah. He sighs.

MANAGER:
Boots're in back. All sizes.

He starts to turn away.

JOSH:
Not here for boots.

The Manager turns back.

MANAGER:
What do you want then?

Josh catches the Manager's eye.

JOSH:
A gun.

MANAGER:
Don't sell guns.

The Manager turns away again, Josh catches his shoulder.

JOSH:
You sell guns. No other way you're
affording the rent. Boots to teens
and used medals won't cover it.

MANAGER:
Illegal to sell guns to kids.

JOSH:
So is pretending you don't sell
guns and doing it anyway. Police
would probably like to know
something like that.

The Manager eyes Josh.

MANAGER:
What're you looking for?

JOSH:
Nothing hard. M16, full auto. Very
basic. Ammo, too.

The Manager sucks his teeth a second.

MANAGER:
3500.

JOSH:
That'll be fine.

The Manager turns and shuffles back behind the curtain.

Noah steps forward.

NOAH:
Why do we need guns?

JOSH:
We don't.

NOAH:
Then why are we getting one?

Josh turns to Noah.

JOSH:
Because you need one.

EXT. HILLSIDE-NIGHT

Josh and Noah crouch at the tree line, dressed dark. Josh has
a bag and the gun. He hands it to Noah. It's unloaded, but
Noah still handles it as if it might eat him.

Josh takes out a pre-paid cell phone, dials 911. His tone
goes fast and panicked.

JOSH:
Hello, 911? I heard shooting down
by the docks. I don't know who, I I
got away fast as I could. Hurry, I
think someone might be hurt.

Josh lowers the phone, takes the battery out. He wipes both
down with his sleeves and chucks them into the woods. Turns
back to Noah.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Okay, time crunch. Gimme the gun.

Noah hands it over. Josh takes a magazine from the bag and
loads it. Passes it back to Noah.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Safety's off. What you do is, run
back away from the water. In a
minute, start firing towards the
warehouses. Quick bursts, run ten,
twenty feet to the beach, fire
again. Got it?

Noah nods.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Okay. Here's the bag--

Josh slings the bag over Noah's shoulder.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
There's two more magazines, reload
if you need to. When you hit the
beach, throw the gun, the
magazines, and the bag as hard as
you can into the water. Get back to
the car. 10:30, you come roaring up
to the casino. If Sara and I aren't
there, take off again. Do not wait.
Understand?

NOAH:
What if I hit somebody.

Josh smiles in the moonlight, pats Noah's shoulder.

JOSH:
This is why you shouldn't panic and
leave the store. I bought blanks.
No real danger. Just bark, no bite.
Are you good?

Noah glances down at the warehouses, along the hillside. He
shrugs and stands up.

NOAH:
Not much choice, is there?

JOSH:
Not really.

NOAH:
Then yeah.

They stand there, a few seconds.

JOSH:
So go.

NOAH:
Oh. Right.

Noah takes off away from the beach. Josh watches him go. Then
he sets off down the hill at top speed.

EXT. CASINO WAREHOUSE-ROOF-NIGHT

GUARD 3 paces along the rooftop. Moonlight gives decent
visibility. Glances at GUARD 4 on the other side. They both
carry sniper rifles.

EXT. HILLSIDE-NIGHT

Noah sprints along the trees, holding the gun way out in
front of him. He stops and crouches, facing the warehouses.
He aims the gun toward them.

NOAH:
Oh, god.

Noah closes his eyes and flinches before pulling the trigger.
The gun fires (BANGBANGBANG!), and recoil knocks it from
Noah's dainty grip. It hits the ground.

Noah lurches toward it, and kicks into the trees and shadow.

EXT. CASINO WAREHOUSE-ROOF-NIGHT

BANGBANGBANG!

Guards 3 & 4 hit the floor. Guard 3 raises his rifle, aims--

THROUGH NIGHT VISION SCOPE: toward the hillside. Catches
movement at the trees. Noah fumbles the gun, kicks it away.

Guard 3 FIRES.

EXT. HILLSIDE-NIGHT

BANG!

THWACK, the shot finds a tree instead of Noah's head. Noah
hits his belly and scrambles deeper into the trees. His hands
find the gun.

Noah sits up against a tree, glances back at the warehouses.
Closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

NOAH:
Okay, you can do this. It's dark,
and they're probably not very good
shots anyway. Right, Elmer Fudd--

BANG! THWACK! Another tree, only the one Noah's against.

Noah scrambles away and gets to his feet.

NOAH: (CONT'D)
Not Elmer Fudd. Lee Harvey Oswald.
Okay. Fine. Bad guy. Shoot back.

Noah raises the gun again.

NOAH: (CONT'D)
Just pull the trigger, Noah.

Noah squeezes his eyes close. Pulls the trigger.

EXT. CARGO CONTAINERS-NIGHT

BANGBANGBANGBANG!

Josh presses against the edge of a container, peers around.

GUARD 5 creeps forward, pistol and flashlight extended in
front of him, clearing the aisles of containers. Josh is
comfortably concealed in shadow. For the moment.

Guard 5 checks the preceding aisle, then creeps forward. One
step... Two... Three... One more...

The gun comes into view. Another step. The guard's fully in
view. Another step. He's in the middle of the aisle. Past
Josh, but back to him.

Josh launches. He slams Guard 5 into the opposite container
hard, rips the gun away, and smacks Guard 5 hard with it. He
goes down (he's smaller, so bag of carrots).

Josh then takes off the way Guard 5 came, armed.

EXT. CASINO WAREHOUSE-ROOF-NIGHT

Guard 3 is still behind his scope, scanning the tree line.
BANGBANG! Muzzle flash, but nothing else.

SIRENS. Guard 3 lifts his head. Looks toward town. Sees blue
and red swirls, the sirens Doppler closer. Guard 3 shoulders
his gun, raises a radio.

GUARD 3:
It's a raid!

EXT. CASINO WAREHOUSE-ROOF-NIGHT

The side of the building. Josh edges to the corner, peers
around. Same Guard from last night, his own door.

It's too far to charge, to light to sneak. New tact. Josh
slips the gun into his waistband.

Josh steps into full view, putting a zig into his step, a zag
in the rest of his body. A stagger, to be short via long.

The Guard notices Josh. He takes out a radio and says
something, puts it away. Approaches, hand in jacket.

GUARD:
Sir, what are you doing here?

Josh seems to just notice him. Slight slur, tad too loud.

JOSH:
Hey! I know you. From last night!
Oh, man, you must be lucky! Six
thousand big ones!
(Josh holds up eight
fingers)
You're like a- a- kitten's foot.

Josh gets closer still, the Guard relaxes, arm slips from the
jacket a bit. Josh's head jerks up, he snaps his fingers.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
No! That's wrong. Fox's tail, tha's
it. Yep. Lucky guard guy, fox tail
walking. Kevin Costner movie, too.
Good one. Mm-hmm.

Close enough now. The Guard's hand withdraws completely. He
even steps forward to catch Josh as he trips.

--And slams his head up into the Guard's chin. Guard staggers
back, hits the ground (barrel of bricks, if you must know).

Josh straightens and spins around, unsteady, rubs his head.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Son of a- Are you made of steel?!
God! Sorry, by the way. You seem
like a nice guy, for a racketeer.

SIRENS wail. Guard's radio issues Guard 3's muffled warning.

Josh runs to the door, pulls the gun, smashes the light
(hiding the Guard), enters--

INT. CASINO WAREHOUSE-NIGHT

Dark. Empty. Some minor light for safety, nothing more.

JOSH:
Okay, Mondays. Off day. Easier.

Josh sprints across the room, down the row of slots, into--

INT. BACK HALLWAY-CASINO-NIGHT

Josh bursts in. Several doors, all unmarked. Josh looks both
ways. Sirens grow closer.

He starts in the direction of Huang's office. Stops at a door
half open on a computer monitor running Excel. He enters....



END OF ACT THREE
ACT FOUR

INT. OFFICE-CASINO-NIGHT

Mr. Huang rushes about the room. The safe is open and empty,
a bag on the desk overflows with cash topped with passports.

Huang crams a few expensive knick-knacks in on top of the
money and ID, yanks the bag closed.

The door crashes open and Josh strides in. Huang freezes,
eyes dart to the desk. Josh comes out smoothly with his gun.

JOSH:
Few things you should know about
me. I look young, and I am. Which
makes me dumb, and impulsive. Which
means, you go for your gun, I shoot
you with mine. Wouldn't be a happy
thing for me, but I'd do it.

Josh arrives at the desk, pulls the bag toward him, gun still
on Huang. He opens it, examines the contents.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
Planning a trip? Man like you, I'd
figure you owned enough police to
make this go away?

Huang finally comes back to himself. The fear evaporates, and
he smiles.

MR. HUANG:
Oh, I do. You were the unknown.
Honestly, I was impressed, little
scared. Hence, the bag. But, now
you've just waltzed into the lion's
den, haven't you? Very, very dumb.

Josh backs away from Huang.

JOSH:
Not at all. Your nearest guards are
out, or distracted. Police, and a
little diversion of my own.

MR. HUANG:
Is that right? Very clever. And you
may succeed tonight. But how do you
plan to survive tomorrow? And what
about your girlfriend? I see you
don't have her yet.

Josh nods.

JOSH:
Quite right. I don't. You're going
to tell me where she is.

MR. HUANG:
Am I?

JOSH:
Absolutely. Otherwise, I'll e-mail
the contents of your accounting
department to everybody in your
address book. Now, that may mean
nothing, but I figure, sleazy
bugger like you, you're cheating
somebody, somewhere in the line.

Huang stares at Josh a long second before a smirk spreads.

MR. HUANG:
Very good bluff. But I don't cheat
my superiors.

Josh shrugs it off.

JOSH:
Okay, then. I'm sure they won't
mind the quick financial update,
then.

Huang's smile vanishes.

MR. HUANG:
You wouldn't.

JOSH:
You don't know I haven't already.
You've lost, end of story. Cops are
coming, probably too many to keep
quiet, your questionable accounting
might already be across the
Pacific, and I've got a gun on you.
Give me my friend. 50-50 chance of
ending up dead is better than the
hundred you got now.

Josh locks gazes with Huang. Huang breaks first. He loses
twenty pounds and ages a decade in a second. He slumps
against his desk.

MR. HUANG:
She's a lucky girl.

JOSH:
How do you figure?

MR. HUANG:
Most men would pee themselves
getting held up outside a theater.
You come after me-- and I'm no
street hoodlum-- and don't flinch.

Josh's eyes kick himself.

JOSH:
She wouldn't be here without me.

Huang scoffs.

MR. HUANG:
Spare me. She's in the room
Harry took you to. It's
soundproofed. You'll want to hurry.
She's due to be loaded soon, and
Harry's not a Boy Scout.

Josh glances towards the desk, where the gun is. Huang
realizes and shrugs.

MR. HUANG: (CONT'D)
Can't shoot you. No time to dispose
of you, and even the cops I own
search. 17 year old kid, it's
unforgivable. You win.

JOSH:
Joy.

MR. HUANG:
Go.

Josh takes one last look at Huang/the desk, turns and leaves.

Huang pulls the drawer and removes the revolver. Walks slowly
to the office door. Closes it.

INT. BACK HALLWAY/BACKROOM-CASINO-NIGHT

Josh runs back up the hall when BLAM! from the closed office
door behind him, only wood door in the hall. Josh stares back
along it, something in his gaze; remorse barely controlled?

Josh turns and runs, back to the old door. He stops outside
it, pressed his hand and forehead to it.

FLASH: SARA IN CHAIR, TIED AND GAGGED. HARRY STANDS IN FRONT
OF AND TO THE LEFT, HIS HAND TRACES HER SHOULDER, SARA
STRUGGLES TO NO POINT, HARRY PULLS HER COLLAR, SLIPS DOWN....

Josh lifts his head and throws his shoulder into the door,
sends it crashing open. Harry just has time to spin before--

BANG! Josh obliterates Harry's knee. He's on Harry in a
second. The gun in a shoulder holster thrown away. Fists fly.

Black. The sound of flesh colliding with flesh, panting.

Bright white.

Back to the room. Sara's urgent screams around the gag. Josh
abruptly stops, fists bloody. He stares down at Harry, who is
breathing-- barely-- through a broken nose, and stares up at
Josh through swelling slits.

Josh turns to Sara, something there; fear, revulsion? He
glances back at Harry. To Sara. The shame kicks in. He's up
in an instant, wipes his hands on his pants. Then he frees
Sara. Helps her up.

JOSH:
Are you okay?

Sara looks at Harry.

SARA:
Is he?

Josh glances. Harry groans, rolls on his side, curls fetal.

JOSH:
Cops are on the way. Ambulance, no
doubt. He'll be fine.

SARA:
What happened? You- Where'd you go?

Josh fakes a glance to his watch.

JOSH:
We need to go.

Josh grabs Sara by the wrist and pulls her along with him,
leaving Harry in his own blood, trembling.

EXT. CASINO WAREHOUSE-NIGHT

Josh and Sara burst out into the night. Josh glances both
ways, then at his watch.

JOSH:
Where is he?

SARA:
Who?

JOSH:
Noah.

SARA:
You brought Noah?

The sound of an engine growing louder.

JOSH:
Yeah. Needed two people.

Tires squeal, and Noah swings into view behind the wheel of a
sports car, high beams on. He screeches to a stop at Josh.

Josh lets Sara in back, and throws himself in the passenger
seat. Noah takes off again, a luxury rocket.

INT. NOAH'S SPORTSCAR-NIGHT

Noah steers onto a main street. 3 COP CARS are rapidly
closing. Josh leans forward.

JOSH:
Slow down, high beams off.

Noah listens. The cop cars hurtle past. Josh watches them.

JOSH: (CONT'D)
(to himself)
Only three.

Josh turns forward, slumps against the window.

INT. NOAH'S SPORTSCAR-LATER

Noah's driving along. Talking in excess of the speed limit.

NOAH:
And then, they shot at me! Real
bullets! This close!

Apparently, adrenal conversion makes three feet one inch.

NOAH: (CONT'D)
(glances back at Sara)
Are you sure you're okay? We can go
to the hospital if you need to?

Sara sprawls in back. She gives a weak smile.

SARA:
I'll be okay. Just... Bad day.

Josh is quiet. Hunched and slumped, hands palm up on his lap.

Noah slows and stops. Stoplight.

NOAH:
And they kept shooting. Missed and
all, but still. So, Josh, how'd it
go? Inside? Easy?

Silence.

NOAH: (CONT'D)
Josh? Josh, you okay?

Noah puts his hand on Josh's shoulder and receives a
shudder/flinch. Noah pulls his hand back. Josh dry heaves,
then lunges for the door, spills onto--

EXT. STREET-NIGHT

And sprints away, left across the intersection, out of sight.

INT. NOAH'S SPORTSCAR-SAME

Sara sits forward, watches him run.

EXT. ALLEY-NIGHT

Josh stumbles into an alley. Nothing special; dumpster,
gutter downpipes, scrape boxes.

Josh collapses to his knees in front of a downpipe, sobbing.
He holds his hands in front of him, smeared in Harry's blood.

He cups water from the pipe's puddle and scrubs furiously.

Scrubbing with crumbled asphalt, makeshift washcloth,
scraping his own hands raw.

Finished, back on the alley wall, staring into space. His
eyes slide shut, into the black.

FLASH: JOSH'S POV, HAMMERING HARRY, THE BLOOD FLYING, HARRY'S
FUTILE BLOCKS.

INT. CELL (FLASHBACK)

YOUNG JOSH is in the corner. A GERMAN SHEPHERD lunges at him.

Again. Again.

Sound of ripping cloth.

TWO LAUGHING GUARDS watch.

CU, Young Josh. Fear evaporates. Replaced with... Cold.

Black. YELP!

EXT. ALLEY-NIGHT

FLASH: HARRY CURLED FETAL, SHAKING IN PAIN.

HUANG PLODS TO HIS DOOR, PUSHES THE DOOR SHUT. STUMPS BACK TO
HIS DESK, CLOSES THE PAINTING COVERING THE SAFE. STROKES THE
CANVAS ONE LAST TIME, AND PUTS THE GUN IN HIS MOUTH.

BLACK. BLAM!

Josh jerks awake, kicking, screaming.

SARA:
Josh! Josh!

Sara holds Josh firm at the shoulders. Rain pours, they're
both drenched.

SARA: (CONT'D)
Josh! It's okay. Just me.

Sara's voice slips through. Josh calms, stares up through the
rain at her. She's not smiling. Worry's etched in her face.

He surges forward, holds her tight, cries into her. Muffled:

JOSH:
I killed him. I didn't, but I did,
really. And you, almost. Harry. The
blood, and the pain. And the dogs,
and-- and-- I'm sorry!

Sara's taken aback a long second, arms dead at her sides,
shocked. Josh repeats the same thing, over and over, more
jumbled, muffled, until they're sobs.

Sara wraps her arms around him again. Hugs him. Then tighter.



END OF SHOW