Страница 27 из 88
The man stared at him, lips slightly parted. There was a crumb of something in his mustache and sweat on his forehead.
“Here’s the story, chief.” Be
The guard hesitated, ran a tongue along his lips. Be
“Put your weapon down and step over to the desk.” The guy’s voice squeaky.
“I’ve got a better idea. I don’t really want to shoot you. So here’s what I propose. You lower that thing. I’ll lower mine. Then we each go out the way we came. Five minutes after I’m gone, you can come in here, find the broken window, maybe you get to be a hero after all.”
A long pause, the guy thinking over everything he’d said. “How do I know—how do I know you won’t shoot me?”
“Why would I shoot you? Get homicide detectives looking for me? No thank you. I just want to walk out.” He held the moment, then said, “Look, it’s up to you. Be a hero or a corpse. But if you lower your toy there, I promise, I won’t hurt you.”
The air in the room was cool, the broken window letting in a November breeze. Be
Be
The man made a squealing sound, the Taser falling from his fingers as reflex brought his hands to his face. Blood rushed between his knuckles, and his eyes went wobbly. He staggered backward, tripped over his own feet, and fell.
Be
“Fu
The guard scrabbled at the floor, pulling himself on his elbows. Be
Fatso had a name tag, read Wayne Reynolds. Be
“No,” Wayne said, the sounds coming out boh through his broken nose. His eyes were wild. “Don’t.”
“Sorry. No choice.”
“Wait. No. I don’t know who you are. You don’t have to—”
“Unfortunately, once I’m gone, you’ll get brave again. You’ll call the cops, and they’ll look through the security tapes, and you, wanting to be a hero, you’ll point me out. And then they’ll see that I wasn’t wearing gloves when I came in earlier, and they might pull a print. And that, my friend, I ca
“I bohn’t. I won’t tell them anything.”
“Can’t risk it.”
“Please—”
“I am sorry about having to do it this way. Nothing personal. But this has to look amateurish.” Be
Wayne screamed, “Marta!” as Be
The guy stopped yelling right away. But it took more hits than Be
5
INT. HALL OF JUDGMENT—AFTERNOON
A square room made of heavy blocks of stone. Torches flicker on the walls, smoke rises to the ceiling.
There is a faint, solemn sound like waves in the distance.
DANIEL HAYES sits in a chair, elbows on knees. There’s something dark on his hands. He starts to touch one with the other, hesitates.
JUDGE 1 (O.S.)
Blood.
Daniel looks up, startled.
There is a table in front of him. Behind it sit three hooded figures. The JUDGES are tall and skeletally thin, and he ca
DANIEL Where am I?
JUDGES 2 & 3 (in sync)
Guilty.
JUDGE 1
Blood on your hands.
The judge’s speech is deep, sonorous, a voice from the bottom of a well.
Daniel looks down, sees that dark liquid now covers his fingers. He jerks, holds them out. A drop falls to the floor, and then another.
DANIEL
I didn’t do anything!
JUDGES 2 & 3
Guilty.
JUDGE 1
If you didn’t do anything, why are you here?
DANIEL
I . . . I don’t know.
JUDGES 1
Then how do you know you don’t belong here?
DANIEL
I’m dreaming. This is a dream. JUDGE 1
The rest was a dream. This is real. DANIEL
No. No, that can’t be—
JUDGES 2 & 3
Guilty. JUDGE 1
Blood on your hands. Blood on your soul. DANIEL
I don’t believe you. I don’t believe this. (clenches his fists)
I’m not a monster.
JUDGES 2 & 3
Guilty.
DANIEL
No!
He lurches up from the chair. The judges sit still as buildings, the hollow of their cowled hoods perfect black.
Daniel turns, starts to run. Trips over the chair, pulls himself up.
There is a heavy wooden door on the wall behind him. He grabs the handle, pulls, the door grinding an inch at a time.
JUDGES 2 & 3 (O.S.)
Guilty!
INT. DANIEL & LANEY’S MALIBU HOUSE—CONTINUOUS