Grab the e-ticket.
A few years ago, my brother, Mark, bought a high quality video camera. He's a practical dreamer (has his dreams but pays his bills) and he decided to shoot a movie for theatrical release. There were two problems with that: (1) It costs a lot to shoot a movie for theatrical release and Mark didn't have that kind of money; and (2) he had a fine camera but it wasn't a movie camera. It was a top-of-the-line hi-def camera. Even if he managed to film a cinematic wonder, nobody was going to distribute the thing.
So he gave us a call, we discussed things, and we came up with a new idea. Instead of filming a movie, we'd shoot a movie trailer.
With a movie trailer in hand, we'd use it to sell a screenplay -- a screenplay written by Renée Harrell. We were going to write the thing (because, y'know, we're writers) and Mark would film and edit the thing (because he had the camera and the expertise needed to shoot the footage and edit it).
The likelihood of this somehow working out? We thought, maybe one in a thousand. (This was an optimistic forecast.) But then we made an enormously stupid decision. We decide to write the movie trailer without having written the screenplay.
We realized that this move was either genius or stupid as hell. (If you're a genius, you already know how things worked out.) Our resources were limited, the equipment was new, our funds were nonexistent, and we were using friends and local actors as stars of the trailer that we hoped to shoot. There was a good chance that we'd end up with NO usable footage. We decided to make the trailer, anyway. We thought that we might at least shoot a trailer that we'd like to see.
And that's what we did. Pulling in friends and family, asking for favors, finding props, we made a trailer. When we discovered that sound and lighting problems had ruined a big chunk of the footage, we got together a year later and did it all over again. Finally, finally, we had enough footage to put together three minutes of film.
By then, Mark has taught Harrell how to edit footage. Because Mark is an opinionated man -- and because his brother can be just as stubborn as he is -- the two of them then spent the next four years cutting and recutting and REcutting the footage. Changing the storyline, adding new bits, dropping old favorites. There was really no excuse for that kind of delay but there you go.
During that time, we discovered how hard it was to write a screenplay that was tied to a trailer that was always in flux. So we finally took the main idea of the movie, found a tiny section of the trailer that had survived every cut, and fashioned a screenplay that has never been seen by the outside world.
Until now.
Because we love you guys, we're posting the trailer directly below these comments. (Because we're techno-ignorant, it may not work on your screen. If not, go to YouTube and see it here.)
Below the trailer, you'll find the beginning of our screenplay. It includes that rarest of animals, the part of the screenplay that somehow, magically, corresponds to the footage we filmed. Because FINAL DRAFT didn't want to import the pages as written, the format is a little loopy. Everything about this project was a little loopy.
Kids, we're begging you, don't want to try this at home.
So he gave us a call, we discussed things, and we came up with a new idea. Instead of filming a movie, we'd shoot a movie trailer.
With a movie trailer in hand, we'd use it to sell a screenplay -- a screenplay written by Renée Harrell. We were going to write the thing (because, y'know, we're writers) and Mark would film and edit the thing (because he had the camera and the expertise needed to shoot the footage and edit it).
The likelihood of this somehow working out? We thought, maybe one in a thousand. (This was an optimistic forecast.) But then we made an enormously stupid decision. We decide to write the movie trailer without having written the screenplay.
We realized that this move was either genius or stupid as hell. (If you're a genius, you already know how things worked out.) Our resources were limited, the equipment was new, our funds were nonexistent, and we were using friends and local actors as stars of the trailer that we hoped to shoot. There was a good chance that we'd end up with NO usable footage. We decided to make the trailer, anyway. We thought that we might at least shoot a trailer that we'd like to see.
And that's what we did. Pulling in friends and family, asking for favors, finding props, we made a trailer. When we discovered that sound and lighting problems had ruined a big chunk of the footage, we got together a year later and did it all over again. Finally, finally, we had enough footage to put together three minutes of film.
By then, Mark has taught Harrell how to edit footage. Because Mark is an opinionated man -- and because his brother can be just as stubborn as he is -- the two of them then spent the next four years cutting and recutting and REcutting the footage. Changing the storyline, adding new bits, dropping old favorites. There was really no excuse for that kind of delay but there you go.
During that time, we discovered how hard it was to write a screenplay that was tied to a trailer that was always in flux. So we finally took the main idea of the movie, found a tiny section of the trailer that had survived every cut, and fashioned a screenplay that has never been seen by the outside world.
Until now.
Because we love you guys, we're posting the trailer directly below these comments. (Because we're techno-ignorant, it may not work on your screen. If not, go to YouTube and see it here.)
Below the trailer, you'll find the beginning of our screenplay. It includes that rarest of animals, the part of the screenplay that somehow, magically, corresponds to the footage we filmed. Because FINAL DRAFT didn't want to import the pages as written, the format is a little loopy. Everything about this project was a little loopy.
Kids, we're begging you, don't want to try this at home.
e-ticket: the trailer
Just push play.
A piece of the e. Just for you.
The screenplay starts like this....
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET - DUSK
Two ten year-old boys are racing their bicycles down a darkening city street. At the far end of the street, a stark white chalk line has been drawn across the black asphalt. This is the finish line.
SUPER: Years ago
Bike wheels spin furiously as each boy pushes to win the race. Riding his well-worn ten-speed, CARL ASHER is in the lead by a length and a half: Unless he spills, victory is his. Pumping his bike pedals, RICHARD HARDEMAN refuses to concede. His bike is every bit as worn as Asher’s. It’s encumbered by a large metal box, nestled like a rusting tumor between the bike handles. Wires from the metal box feed into a larger-than-ordinary, lantern-shaped bicycle light.
ASHER
Gonna win! Gonna beat your ass!
HARDEMAN
No fair!
ASHER’S POINT-OF-VIEW
The finish line is just ahead. Past the finish line, safely resting on the curb, are the boys’ back packs and a fully-loaded Super Soaker.
Before the finish line, someone has discarded some old junk. Included in that pile is a discarded 4” x 4” board, dropped atop an aging wooden crate.
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
Almost at the finish, Asher swerves his bike to the side. He rockets toward the 4” x 4” board.
ON ASHER
He shoots up the impromptu ramp, the slats in the wooden crate CREAKING as he launches into the air. Flying, Asher flips on his battery-powered bicycle light.
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
Passing the finish line, Hardeman skids to a stop. Twisting his head, he sees Asher pirouetting in the air, his bicycle turning in a circle. The bike’s tiny ray of light arcs lazily through the night sky.
ON ASHER
He comes back to earth, his bike BANGING down in front of Hardeman. There’s a SPROING of sound as the chain jumps from the rear sprocket. At that instant, the latch bar flies off the bike’s back wheel.
Hardeman catches the latch bar in his hand.
ASHER
Pretty neat, huh?
He glances at the place where the latch bar used to attach to his bike’s rear wheel. Hardeman lobs the latch bar to him.
ASHER (CONT’D)
(catching the latch bar)
Where’d I put the pliers?
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
Hardeman reaches down and picks up the Super Soaker. He smiles.
HARDEMAN
I won.
ASHER
But it looked cool, right?
Hardeman raises the Super Soaker to shoulder height.
HARDEMAN
Prepare to meet thy doom.
Asher grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut before the flood arrives.
VOICE (O.S.)
(calling out)
Carl!
Asher’s eyes flick open.
ASHER
Supper time, already?
VOICE (O.S.)
(calling out)
Carl! Carl Asher!
Asher’s eyes go to the Super Soaker and then up to Hardeman.
Hardeman wants to pull the trigger. Instead, he lowers the water gun and slings it to his friend.
HARDEMAN
Tomorrow.
ASHER
Double or nothin’?
HARDEMAN
Fix your bike.
Hardeman starts to ride away when he remembers. He turns back.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
Hey, wait.
He raises the lid on the metal tumor. Inside, there’s a tangle of wires and switches, feeding to a generator and linked to a connection box.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
It oughta be charged by now.
He flips the inside switch.
There’s a CRACKLE of electricity as his bicycle light suddenly comes to life. A great THOOOM! noise is heard and A GIANT RAY OF LIGHT shoots out from the device.
ASHER
Holy crap.
EXTERIOR: END OF BOWMAN STREET
The cone ray of light shoots down the street, its brilliantly-white beacon as focused as a searchlight. It finds TWO OLDER BOYS at the end of the street. Astride their own bicycles, they’re immediately blinded.
FIRST OLDER BOY
Shit!
The First Older Boy is FRANCIS RABE. The other boy is his younger brother, JOSEPH. Both boys are stocky, almost fat.
ON HARDEMAN AND ASHER
The boys realize that the Rabes are nearby. This isn't good.
ASHER
Turn it off!
Hardeman fumbles with the switch on the light.
HARDEMAN
I’m trying!
Finally, he kills the beam. The lantern-shaped light’s beam fades, disappearing until it’s only a bicycle light again.
ASHER’S MOM (O.S.)
Carl!
EXTERIOR: END OF BOWMAN STREET
Francis Rabe turns his bike around to face Asher and Hardeman. Obediently, his brother follows suit.
FRANCIS RABE
What the hell was that?
JOSEPH RABE
Yeah, what the hell?
Francis’ feet go onto his bike’s pedals. Slowly, he starts to ride forward. Joseph, as always, follows.
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
Side-by-side, Asher and Hardeman watch as the Rabes roll closer.
ASHER
They’ll wreck it. They wrecked your hoverbug.
HARDEMAN
(wearily)
They wreck everything.
ASHER’S MOM (O.S.)
This is your last warning, young man!
Asher waits, knowing he needs to go but not wanting to abandon his friend.
HARDEMAN
Francis said he was gonna pound you.
ASHER
That was Joseph. As if that fat turd could catch me.
Hardeman’s eyes flick to the latch bar in Asher’s hand. He swings his bike away from the approaching Rabes.
HARDEMAN
(to Asher)
Better go. If you’re late again, you’ll be grounded.
Looking over his shoulder, Hardeman calls out loudly:
HARDEMAN (CONT'D)
Hey, Francis!
Raising his hand in the air, he shoots out his middle finger.
ON THE RABES
They can’t believe that anyone would dare flip them off.
FRANCIS RABE
What the hell?
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
And the race is on.
The two Rabes rocket past Asher but Hardeman, pedaling as quickly as he can, has built a sizable lead. The Rabes have newer bicycles than Hardeman but they’re bigger and heavier than their prey, too. Within seconds, Hardeman is wheeling off of Bowman Street --
EXTERIOR: HARKINS AVENUE
-- and cutting through the cross traffic of the busier, well-lit Harkins Avenue. Weaving around cars and between two pedestrians, Hardeman vanishes down a side street.
Swerving around a pick-up truck, Francis Rabe is struck at mid-chest by a stick of lumber that extends from its back bed. On collision, the stick SNAPS and Francis goes down hard. Thrown to the asphalt, he loses his three-speed bike. It slides across the street, throwing sparks when it bounces, as the drivers around it SLAM on their brakes. With horns BLARING around him, Francis lays in the middle of the thoroughfare, blinking up at the sky above him.
Joseph Rabe stops his bike beside him. Shaking his head, Francis sits up on his elbows. Finding a broken piece of wood, he tosses it up to his brother.
FRANCIS RABE
Get ‘im!
EXTERIOR: MOYER STREET
Moving too fast, Hardeman shoots through the traffic on this street as well. He turns to his right, seeking a four-lane avenue of escape, but --
HARDEMAN’S POINT-OF-VIEW
Pumping his bike pedals, Joseph Rabe is charging toward him from that direction.
EXTERIOR: MOYER STREET
Hardeman cuts to his left, down an unfamiliar side alley.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
There aren’t any street lights in this alley. Hardeman threads his way through the long and narrow pathway. He hits his brakes, sliding to a stop beside a dumpster. Sitting across from a rusted fire escape, he peers into the near-blackness of the path in front of him.
HARDEMAN’S POINT-OF-VIEW
Vague shapes crowd the space ahead. It’s impossible to see much of anything.
ON HARDEMAN’S BIKE
The lid on the metal tumor raises up as Hardeman’s hand reaches into the box. He hits the switch.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
The THOOOM! noise is heard again and the bike’s giant ray of light illuminates the alleyway. The passage is dotted with the hard-to-carry refuse of a mobile society: Rusted bedsprings, door-less refrigerators, and assorted bags of trash.
EXTERIOR: MOUTH OF THE ALLEY
Sitting atop his bicycle, Joseph waits at the opening of the alley. He crosses his arms over his chest.
JOSEPH RABE
Dead end, asshole!
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Hardeman turns away from his enemy. He looks ahead, to the end of the alley.
A tall wooden fence blocks the end of the alleyway. It stretches from the brick building on one side of the alley to the concrete-faced building on the other.
Like Joseph Rabe said: Dead end.
EXTERIOR: MOUTH OF THE ALLEY
Joseph Rabe slips his feet onto his bike pedals. He rides forward without urgency. Hardeman is trapped.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Hardeman starts riding, too, swerving to avoid obstacles as he tries to stay ahead of Joseph Rabe.. Hardeman’s eyes dart from side-to-side as he looks for an exit or a potential weapon.
JOSEPH RABE’S POINT-OF-VIEW
Ahead of him, Hardeman suddenly begins pumping his bike pedals. He’s racing ahead as if he’s found an escape.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Frowning, Joseph races to catch him.
Almost upon the fence ahead, Hardeman swerves for an improvised launch ramp, just as Asher had done earlier in the day. Bouncing up the back of an abandoned car door, he shots across the enameled-side of a tilted refrigerator.
CLOSE ON
Supporting the refrigerator, a folding table wobbles under the weight of Hardeman’s race up the impromptu ramp. Its rusted legs CREAK.
ON HARDEMAN
His bike carries him skyward.
IN SLOW MOTION
Hardeman and his bike lift into the air. The lantern-shaped light shoots its great beacon into the night sky as the front wheel of the bike glides over the top of the fence. He smiles, triumphant: He’s done an Asher! He’s escaped!
The bike gives a little bump and Hardeman’s head jerks backward. The smile is instantly gone. Alarmed, he starts to turn to look down at the bike’s back wheel.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY - END SLOW MOTION
The rear wheel of the bike catches the lip of the fence. The bike somersaults, pitching Hardeman off its seat as it flips. Bike and rider come CRASHING down on the hard road on the opposite side of the fence. The lantern-shaped light SMASHES.
ON JOSEPH RABE
Racing at Hardeman’s speed, his bike shoots over the car door and across the refrigerator’s side.
CLOSE ON
Beneath the refrigerator, the folding table wobbles again. Suddenly, its rear legs SNAP.
ON JOSEPH RABE
His eyes widen as the refrigerator sags beneath him.
JOSEPH RABE
Fuuuu --
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
BANG! As the fence rocks beside him, Hardeman is showered by dust and splinters.
He picks himself up. His shirt is torn and one of the knees in his pants is gone. He pulls his banged-up bike upright and flips down its kickstand. He cocks his head, listening.
JOSEPH RABE (O.S.)
(groaning)
Uhhh....
But there’s another sound, too. Hardeman looks down at his bike. It seems to be HUMMING. He lifts up the metal tumor’s lid, peers inside: It’s dead inside. He looks at the alleyway around him: Still, nothing. Finally, he looks up.
HARDEMAN’S POINT-OF-VIEW
He finds the source of the HUMMING sound. Above him, a flying ship passes the moon overhead. As he watches, it flickers and disappears.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
A light shines in Hardeman’s face. He looks down from the night sky, shielding his eyes. A bicycle light is aimed into his eyes.
Francis Rabe has found him. Francis leaves his bike on its stand and strides forward.
HARDEMAN
Francis.
Francis CRACKS his knuckles. At this angle, Francis’ shoulders look as wide as the alleyway itself.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
Wanna see my invention?
Francis grabs Hardeman by the shirt collar. He cocks his fist.
O.S. VOICE
Yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!
Francis freezes. Both he and Hardeman look back at the fence, seeking the source of the voice.
ON ASHER
Astride his bike, he soars over the fence that defeated Hardeman and Joseph Rabe. In one arm, he cradles his giant squirt gun.
ASHER
(with joy)
Super soaker!
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Crashing down to the alley floor, Asher maintains his balance as he whips his bicycle around. Hardeman and Francis remain frozen in place, watching this bravado appearance.
With a squeeze of the squirt gun’s trigger, Asher blows a gallon of water into Francis’ face. Releasing Hardeman, Francis stumbles back. Slipping on the wet surface, he falls to the ground.
Asher gives his friend a thumbs-up. When Francis stands again, Asher swings the super soaker around and fires again.
ON THE SUPER SOAKER
A dribble of water leaks out.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Francis lips curl upward in an evil grin. Hardeman and Asher are dead meat.
FRANCIS RABE
I am so gonna pound you.
CUT TO:
ALLEY WAY - BEHIND THE ‘BILL’S POISON’ SALOON - CURRENT DAY
A huge fist SMACKS into the grown-up Richard Hardeman. He stumbles backward, falling to one knee.
‘BILL’S POISON’ SALOON - THE BACK DOOR
There’s a burst of COUNTRY MUSIC as a BAR PATRON opens the back door of the establishment. Seeing two big-bodied THUGS blocking the alley exit, he glances over to Hardeman.
ON HARDEMAN
Groggily, he puts one hand to his injured jaw. He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind.
ON THE PATRON
Smoothly, the Patron steps back inside, closing the door.
EXTERIOR: ALLEY WAY
THUG #1 rubs at his knuckles, satisfied that Hardeman is down. THUG #2 holds a small box: Hardeman’s invention. He rattles it.
THUG #1
Why don’t it work?
THUG #2
It was workin' in the bar.
Thug #2 slaps at the box sullenly.
ON HARDEMAN
Hardeman looks around the narrow alley way. He’s trying to find something he can MacGyver into a weapon.
ON THE THUGS
They look alarmed when, with a CRACKLE of energy, Hardeman’s invention comes to life. Then they smile.
ON THE BOX
A 3-D hologram of a woman appears on the top of the invention. Dressed in a shortie nightgown, the woman (MAGGIE RAMSEY) is pleasantly attractive.
In a manner not unlike that of Princess Leia from STAR WARS, she leans forward and pleads to her unseen audience.
MAGGIE RAMSEY
Help me, Richard Hardeman. You’re my only hope.
EXTERIOR: ALLEY WAY
Thug #1 SNORTS in appreciation. Thug #2 grins.
THUG #1
Fixed it.
Thug #2 pushes his finger through the hologram. The image waves, reacting to the interference, and he withdraws the finger. At that moment, the message repeats itself. Maggie Ramsey pleads in her holographic manner once again.
MAGGIE RAMSEY
Help me, Richard Hardeman. You’re my only hope.
Thug #1 grabs at his crotch.
THUG #2
I got’cher hope right here, honey.
Pleased by his cleverness, he smirks at Thug #1. As he does, the box SQUEALS and Maggie’s image disappears in a sprinkle of sparks. As the box shorts out, electric currents stream over the box and onto Thug #2.
THUG #2 (CONT’D)
Gnnnng....
He spasms, dropping the box. His eyes rolling back in his head, Thug #2 is unconscious even before he hits the ground.
ON THUG #1
Thug #1 watches as his companion collapses. When he looks away from the spectacle, Richard Hardeman is standing up and directly across from him.
ON HARDEMAN
Hardeman holds a length of frayed electrical cord. One end of the cord is tied to a section of concrete block. The other end is looped through a heavy metal c-joint.
Hardeman whips the piece of cord with a certain amount of style. The concrete block and c-joint cut through the air like a homemade bolo.
Perplexed, Thug #1 doesn’t know how to react.
‘BILL’S POISON’ SALOON - THE BACK DOOR
There’s a burst of COUNTRY MUSIC as the Bar Patron opens the door again. As he does, a concrete block shoots free from its cord and SLAMS the wall beside him. With an understanding nod, the Bar Patron steps back inside, closing the door AGAIN.
EXTERIOR: ALLEY WAY
Missing its concrete block, the electrical cord dangles limply in Hardeman’s hand. As he watches, the c-joint slips its knot and falls to the ground.
Thug #1 frowns at Hardeman.
THUG #1
I’m gonna pound you.
Hardeman tenses, ready to fight. Suddenly a WHIPPING sound is heard.
ON THUG #1
Thug #1 whirls around, grasping at the dart that has lodged in his arm. A long, fine wire leads away from the dart. Before Thug #1 can pull it away, a SIZZLE sound cuts through the air. He jerks, bouncing back on the heels of his feet.
EXTERIOR: ALLEY WAY
His head lolling backward, Thug #1 falls to the ground at Hardeman’s feet.
Hardeman looks to his rescuer. A big-bodied man in a blue-and-white uniform releases the Taser wire from his gun. He holsters the weapon.
HARDEMAN
Hey, Francis.
FRANCIS RABE
Thought you oughta know. Pretty Bird is comin’ down.
It takes Hardeman a moment to realize what Francis is talking about. When he does, clearly unhappy.
Francis gestures at the blue-and-white sedan parked in the b.g., its engine idling. On the side of the car’s door are the words: CHC International SECURITY.
FRANCIS RABE (CONT’D)
Let's take my car.
CUT TO:
EXTERIOR: SPACE
A satellite orbits through space.
SUPER: ComReach II
Orbiting Satellite
“Pretty Bird”
As those words fade, another line appears:
SUPER: 71,000 kilometers above Earth
An antenna extends from the satellite. The antenna PULSES as waves shimmer off of it and into the surrounding void. That happens again -- and again.
Although sound doesn’t carry in a vacuum, we hear an electronic CHITTER as communication is made with the machine. The silver shell at the base of the antenna opens in response.
A moment later, the antenna withdraws, pulling inside the satellite.
CAMERA’S POINT-OF-VIEW
Dropping, the Camera soars past the satellite, past the stars and into the stratosphere. Still falling, it drops through the atmosphere, past the clouds and down to earth, lower and lower, down to a man looking up at the stars....
EXTERIOR: CHC INTERNATIONAL - THE HELI-PAD - NIGHT
Still in uniform, Francis Rabe stares up at the sky above him. It’s almost as if he can see Pretty Bird, its antenna enclosed, orbiting above him.
INTERIOR: CHC INTERNATIONAL - RAMSEY’S OFFICE
Richard Hardeman SLAMS his fist down on the polished desk surface in front of him.
HARDEMAN
How could you? How dare you?
Seated behind his desk, DEKE RAMSEY glares up at Hardeman. Even seated, Ramsey conveys a sense of power.
RAMSEY
How did you get in here?
HARDEMAN
You know why I built Pretty Bird. It exists for one specific purpose.
RAMSEY
Your picture is at the front desk. In a black, plastic frame.
I put it there myself.
Ramsey doesn’t act threatened by Hardeman’s appearance. Nothing threatens Ramsey. Mostly, he’s irritated.
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
Security knows damned well that you’re not allowed in here.
Point of fact, you know that, too.
HARDEMAN
Pretty Bird is mine. You can't bring it down.
RAMSEY
You’ve been banned from this building. Banned from
every CHC facility in the world.
HARDEMAN
CHC has a contract. It’s iron-clad. My lawyer got
me a copy.
RAMSEY
Ahhh, the contract.
Making no effort to disguise his next move, Ramsey pulls open a side drawer. He pushes at the security button inside of it.
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
You mean, of course, a legal and binding document.
One where CHC International performs a service and
collects a check. That kind of contract.
Behind Hardeman, visible through the glass windows, a small light in the hallway ceiling begins to FLASH its silent alarm.
RAMSEY (CONT'D)
Your friends at NEEDLE breached their contract. I can
do whatever the hell I want with Pretty Bird.
Ramsey pulls a hardcover book out of the drawer before he closes it. He sets the book on the desk. Watching Ramsey’s eyes, Hardeman pays no attention to it.
HARDEMAN
You’re lying.
Ramsey gives him a level look. He’s telling the truth.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
How low?
RAMSEY
Thirty-five kay.
HARDEMAN
Geosynchronous orbit.
(realizing)
Spy satellite.
RAMSEY
“High altitude observation device” is the name we
use. Call it what you like. All I know is, the Chilean
government pays its bills.
HARDEMAN
But --
RAMSEY (CONT'D)
The State Department signed off on it. Good thing
we put an eye in your satellite, don’t you think?
Ramsey rubs at his chin, as if a thought has just come to him.
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
I did tell you about that, didn’t I?
The outer door to Ramsey’s office swings open. Francis Rabe enters, looking very much like a head security officer. A second CHC SECURITY OFFICER follows after him.
Francis Rabe’s eyes narrow at the sight of Ramsey’s visitor.
FRANCIS RABE
Hardeman?
By his manner, Francis suggests that he’s amazed and upset by the scientist’s appearance in Ramsey’s office. The CHC Security Officer pulls a baton free from its holster as Francis strides forward.
Ramsey holds up a hand, stopping him.
RAMSEY
(to Hardeman)
Let me tell you something about NEEDLE, Richard. It
isn’t what we thought it was. Five people, that’s the entirety
of their sad little club. Three deluded ET-chasers, a college
professor --
At this, he lifts a sheet of paper from his desk and reads the name.
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
Doctor Alicia Gaar.
(voice dripping with disdain)
Glenvale Community College.
HARDEMAN
I know Alicia Gaar.
RAMSEY
You would.
(back to the paper)
Last but not least, a sucker to write the checks that kept
Pretty Bird aloft for the last three years. Mister Daniel McCurry.
HARDEMAN
(surprised)
The billionaire?
RAMSEY
Junior. Did I forget to add the “junior”? The congressman’s
ne’er-do-well son. I guess Daddy cut off his allowance.
He must have tired of waiting for sonny-boy to grow up.
Ramsey nods at Francis Rabe. The security guard steps beside Hardeman and grabs his upper arm in a no-nonsense move. The second Security Officer steps to Hardeman’s other side.
HARDEMAN
Please, Deke.
RAMSEY
Have you seen my latest book, Richard?
Using one hand, he lifts the book from the desk’s surface. He shows it to Hardeman.
HARDEMAN
(reading the title)
'Get a Life.'
RAMSEY
Catchy, don’t you think?
HARDEMAN
(still reading)
‘The truth about Easter Island, Santa Claus, God and
Space Aliens.’
RAMSEY
I’ve sent copies to every executive at NASA. To every
politician that has ever trod the steps of Capital Hill.
HARDEMAN
Someday, I'll prove you wrong.
RAMSEY
Won’t my face be red?
(he smiles thinly)
You’ll want to pay particular attention to Chapter Eighteen.
‘Chariot of the Frauds’. Your name pops up frequently.
HARDEMAN
I have some money. Not Chilean government money but
enough to keep Pretty Bird in place.
Ramsey shakes his head.
RAMSEY
Too late, too late. It’s nothing personal, old friend. Oh, what
the hell --
He gestures to the Security guards.
RAMSEY (CONT'D)
It’s entirely personal. I was delighted to kill Pretty Bird’s signal.
(to Francis Rabe)
Throw him out.
Rabe pulls Hardeman along, none too gently. As they pass through Ramsey’s office doorway, Ramsey lifts a hand to his mouth and calls out:
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
I’ll tell Maggie you said ‘hi’!
CUT TO:
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - DAY
Patches of dirt and tufts of yellow-green grass suggest that we’re in the metal of summer. Metal bleachers have been erected in the center of the air field. The bleachers are nearly filled. The spectators shade their eyes as they look up into the sky overhead.
SUPER: Two years later
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - ANNOUNCER’S BOOTH
The ANNOUNCER speaks into his microphone while staring into the sky. His voice BOOMS through the speakers that surround the bleachers. He has a wonderful voice; it’s the voice of God.
THE ANNOUNCER
(continuing)
...leaving the lovely Miss Jenny at the controls, he will walk unrestrained
along the full length of his plane’s lower wing....
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
The lovely MISS JENNY waves at the crowd from the front seat of the plane. In the seat behind her is the Air Field’s hero: With his tousled dark hair, a gleaming white smile and a champion’s square chin, he looks like an idealized Carl Asher, all grown-up.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
He is “The Man Who Taunts Death”...the one...the only --
Reaching above his head, the Air Field Hero grabs the wings’ struts and pulls himself out of his seat. The crowd GASPS as, smoothly, he back-rolls onto the lower wing.
THE ANNOUNCER (CONT’D)
-- Captain Eddie Etheridge!
Seated on the edge of the wing, EDDIE ETHERIDGE raises his arms to acknowledge the applause from below.
INTERIOR: THE HANGARS
Carl Asher straps himself into the interior of his antique, one-seater plane. Hardeman approaches, a box tucked under one arm.
ASHER
‘Captain’, my ass. The closest Eddie ever came to service was
walking past a Salvation Army bell-ringer.
HARDEMAN
Still. He is “The Man Who Taunts Death”.
ASHER
That was my idea. Mine. I was gonna use it on posters, comic books,
a web site, everything. And he stole it!
HARDEMAN
You could be, "The Man Who Also Taunts Death".
Asher gives him a look.
HARDEMAN
"The Man Who Mocks Death". "The Man Who Laughs at
Death". "The Man Who Lightly Teases Death!"
ASHER
When I'm done here, I'm going to go key your car.
(he sees the box in Hardeman’s arm)
You finished it?
HARDEMAN
A friend helps a friend.
Asher pulls the box away from Hardeman. Opening it, he pulls out a small, silver box. Putting the box in his lap, he lifts out four circular mirrors, each with an electronic grid in its center.
ASHER
A dragon, right?
From the expression on Hardeman’s face, we know it’s not a dragon.
ASHER (CONT’D)
Or...a phoenix, like we talked about. Red and yellow flames,
crackling all around me.
HARDEMAN
(defensively)
I’ve been a little busy lately. This was more of a modification.
TODD THE MECHANIC approaches. He nods at Hardeman but speaks to Asher.
TODD THE MECHANIC
You’re up.
ASHER
Stall for me, okay? Thirty minutes.
TODD THE MECHANIC
Jepperson ain't gonna like it.
Todd exits as Hardeman steps back to survey the airplane. Its side bears a large German cross.
HARDEMAN
You're the Red Baron?
ASHER
I wish.
(a little bitterly)
The Snoopy people threatened to sue my ass.
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - ON EDDIE ETHERIDGE
Balancing on one wing of his plane, Etheridge stands upright. He holds his arms out at his side as the wind buffets his uniform.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
Captain Eddie has done it! He’s standing! Twelve hundred feet in
the sky!
The Announcer allows a slight pause for the crowd to contemplate the enormity of Etheridge’s courage.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.) (CONT'D)
But -- what’s this?
Seen in the distance, Asher’s plane is aloft. He’s headed upward, toward Etheridge’s WWI aircraft.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.) (CONT'D)
It’s an enemy aircraft! Those German markings! The Nazi cross!
ON ASHER AND HIS PLANE
Asher winces at the Announcer’s hyperbole.
ASHER
Nazi cross?
He fumbles with an object on his lap. He lifts it up. It’s a painted helmet, a German cross on each side and a vaguely Germanic spear head at its top. He pulls it onto his head.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
It’s Admiral Ludwig Hamburg, ladies and gentlemen! Captain Eddie’s
mortal enemy!
The silver box is mounted to the side of Asher’s cockpit. Its four mirrored cells are dotted the top of the plane’s wings. Asher flips a power switch on the silver box and its power light glows.
ASHER
An admiral. In an airplane.
But now he smiles. He reaches out to Hardeman's silver box and pushes its power button.
The four mirrored energy cells SPARK, one after another.
The familiar hologram of Maggie Ramsey appears, facing away from Asher. Each pair of cells combines to provide an image, creating one Maggie on each wing. The images are much bigger than the one seen earlier. These are life-size.
MAGGIE RAMSEY
Help me, Richard Hardeman. You’re my only hope.
ASHER
(perplexed)
Maggie?
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
Standing on one wing, prepared to play out the scenario, Captain Eddie stands frozen. He’s stunned by the sight below him.
ETHERIDGE’S POINT OF VIEW
As Asher’s plane climbs higher, it appears that there are twin women in shortie nightgowns standing on each side of his plane’s wings.
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
Eddie looks at Miss Jenny. She shakes her head.
EXTERIOR: ASHER’S PLANE
Even as the planes draw closer, Asher’s attention is on the Maggie holograms.
ASHER
You're not a phoenix. I wanted a dragon! A monster!
Something better than Dick Asshole’s ex!
At a loss for words, he angrily slams his fist against the silver box. When he does, the energy cells SIZZLE. Electricity arcs across the front of the plane and the Maggie images waver, merging into one another and growing still larger.
MAGGIE RAMSEY
(finishing)
...my only hope.
Asher slams his fist against the box again. When he does, Maggie’s sweet face twists, her expression turning into a nasty sneer.
MAGGIE RAMSEY (CONT'D)
Sorry, Richard...
-- and the Maggie image grows bigger and bigger, enveloping the plane as she stretches forward. Her fingernails turn into claws and her teeth become ragged sickles as this gigantic harpy stretches out her hands and reaches for Captain Eddie.
MAGGIE RAMSEY (CONT’D)
(nastily)
...I’ve met someone else!
Asher SCREAMS.
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
With the apparition almost upon them, Captain Eddie SCREAMS. Miss Jenny SCREAMS, too, shoving the plane’s stick control forward and sending the ancient aircraft into a spin. Captain Eddie falls, clinging to his aircraft’s wing.
The plane dives toward Asher’s aircraft.
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - THE SKY
Asher throws back his throttle, preventing a mid-air collision. Captain Eddie’s plane shoots past as Asher’s skies upward. His vehicle shutters and the engine dies.
Holographic Maggie-Harpy gives a BOOMING VILLAIN CACKLE.
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
On his belly, Captain Eddie clings to the wing as Miss Jenny wrestles with her plane’s controls. She struggles to steady the plane but its wing dips. Captain Eddie loses his grip and starts to slide.
ON CAPTAIN EDDIE
At the last moment, his fingertips catch the edge of the wing. He tries to hold on -- but he doesn’t have the strength. His hands release and he falls.
EXTERIOR: ASHER’S PLANE
Trying to restart his plane’s engine, Asher’s attention goes to the falling Captain Eddie. As he plummets toward the bleachers below -- the spectators SCREAMING as they bolt from their seats -- he is suddenly caught and yanked upward, saved by the nearly-invisible tether hidden beneath his clothing.
ASHER
Son of a bitch.
Asher’s engine finally catches hold. Asher looks up.
ASHER’S POINT-OF-VIEW
A leafless birch tree looms directly ahead of him.
EXT. ASHER’S PLANE
Knowing that a crash is inevitable, Asher closes his eyes.
The screen goes to BLACK.
FADE IN:
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - LATER THAT DAY
The bleachers are empty and most of the spectators are gone. An ambulance is in the background. Captain Eddie is strapped to a stretcher and a PARAMEDIC loads him into the back of the ambulance.
A dressing over one eye and a sling on his arm, Asher is walking with Hardeman. They’re walking toward Hardeman’s car.
ASHER
“The Man Who Taunts Death”. You see? The stain on his
trousers?
HARDEMAN
Everybody saw.
ASHER
“The Man Who Wet Himself”, that’s what his name oughta be.
I’d like to see that comic book.
HARDEMAN
Give ‘Spider-man’ a run for its money.
ASHER
The plane’s gone.
HARDEMAN
Totaled? You got insurance?
ASHER
For the routine stuff, yeah. Let me call my agent, see if ‘Scared
by Giant Harpy Bitch’ is covered in one of the sub-clauses.
HARDEMAN
Sorry.
CUT TO:
INTERIOR: RESTAURANT - THAT SAME DAY
It’s a small, family-style restaurant. Asher and Hardeman share a booth away from the entrance, their plates of food in front of them.
HARDEMAN
It’ll be an adventure. A real life adventure. When’s the last time you
had one of those?
ASHER
You built....
(grappling with this)
You built a flying saucer.
Hardeman is quietly proud of his feat. Asher toys with the food in front of him.
ASHER
The thing of it is -- and I know you know this -- there’s no such
thing as a UFO.
HARDEMAN
You know that and I know that. But this is the heartland of America
and America, my friend --
A WAITRESS approaches as Hardeman finishes his sentence.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
-- believes.
WAITRESS
Believes what, hon?
HARDEMAN
Believes in flying saucers.
The Waitress fills his cup of coffee as she speaks.
WAITRESS
Oh my, yes. I saw one myself, over in Pulverton. It was
bowling league night.
The Waitress leaves. Asher leans in toward Hardeman.
ASHER
Maggie Ramsey. It had to be Mags?
ON HARDEMAN
Reflecting, he has a faraway look in his eyes.
CUT TO:
HARDEMAN’S HOME - THE KITCHEN - SOMETIME IN THE PAST
Bare-chested and in his pajama bottoms, the unshaven Hardeman is a wreck. Dirty plates and silverware decorate the kitchen table. An opened beer can stands beside a folded newspaper. Hardeman holds a note in one hand.
CLOSE ON THE NOTE
The note curls over Hardeman’s slightly shaking hand. The only thing we can read clearly is:
so sorry. Maggie.
ON HARDEMAN
His fingers open and the note flutters toward the table. It lands atop the local newspaper.
CLOSE ON THE NEWSPAPER
It’s the B-section of the daily paper. Printed over the center fold is a photo of a smiling Deke Ramsey. Over the Ramsey photo, there’s a headline: CHC HEAD SAYS NO SUCH THING AS UFOS.
ON HARDEMAN
He picks up the butter knife, still tinted by the color of old jam. Suddenly, he stabs the Ramsey photo over and over again.
CUT TO:
INTERIOR: RESTAURANT
His eyes regain focus as he leaves this memory behind. He smiles at Asher.
HARDEMAN
I've moved on.
(on Asher’s expression)
I swear, that thing today, I had some old hi-def footage. That’s
the only reason I used it.
ASHER
I’m gonna have Princess Leia nightmares. You know that.
Hardeman pulls out his wallet, pulls a photograph from one of its sleeves, and passes it over.
HARDEMAN
I’ve met someone new.
Asher looks at the photo, almost laughs -- and then he sees that Hardeman is serious.
ASHER
Really.
HARDEMAN
Alicia Gaar. Teaches at the jay-cee.
ASHER
She rich?
Hardeman snatches the photo away.
HARDEMAN
She lives in a studio apartment behind a bar and drives
a used Daewoo Tubira.
ASHER
So she is rich -- compared to me.
Asher looks down at his lunch plate, wanting to believe Hardeman. He almost speaks -- doesn’t -- before returning to the subject at hand.
ASHER (CONT'D)
You’re not just allowed to -- fly -- a flying saucer. There
has to be a law against it.
HARDEMAN
We’re talking little laws. Minor ones.
ASHER
Well, how much is a little?
HARDEMAN
Nobody’s gonna care, I promise you. Besides, like somebody
once told me: It only counts if you get caught.
Asher smiles.
ASHER
A wise man.
His thoughts churn and, in his face, we can see him consider all of the possibilities presented by this adventure.
HARDEMAN
Trust me. You’re gonna love it.
CUT TO:
EXTERIOR: DESERT - NIGHT
The desert is flat and dark and bitterly cold. Asher stands alone on the sands, his hands buried in his jacket pockets.
His car is in the b.g., a dull black blob that lists to one side. Suddenly, Asher screams into the night sky.
ASHER
Where the hell are you, Hardeman?
The sky remains empty. The desert remains silent. Asher attempts to burrow himself a little deeper into his jacket.
ASHER (CONT’D)
I don’t love it.
He begins to pace, trying to warm himself. He stops pacing. This time, when he shouts into the sky, there’s an edge of panic to his words.
ASHER (CONT’D)
This isn’t fun.
In the distance, a coyote HOWLS.
ASHER (CONT’D)
I followed the directions. I made good time. I’m right where
‘x’ marks the spot. I’m where I’m supposed to be so where
are you?
(beat - yelling)
I’m freezing my ass off!
The coyotes HOWLS again. This time, the sound is louder. Closer. More frightening.
Asher seems to be really aware of it for the first time.
ASHER (CONT’D)
This isn’t fun, buddy. What this is, is cold. This is miserable.
(loudly)
That's it! I’m gone!
He stomps back to his car. He yanks at the driver’s door, pulling it open before he notices that the car is tilting to one side.
ASHER’S POINT-OF-VIEW
The tire is flat. Asher gives the tire a cursory examination, plucking at an unseen object. He pulls free a short, jagged piece of brown glass.
ASHER (CONT’D)
The spare's flat. No cell reception. And wolves are coming
to eat me.
(beaten)
Welcome to my world.
INTERIOR: FLYING SAUCER
The interior of the aircraft is suffused with a gentle green glow. Hardeman sits in the pilot’s chair. He reaches toward the instrument panel. He twists a knob and the craft begins to HUM.
EXTERIOR: DESERT - ANGLE DOWN ON ASHER
The HUM fills the air and Asher rises, stepping away from the car. Suddenly, a great ball of light fills the sky above him and he staggers backward, almost as if he’s been struck.
FULL SHOT - ASHER - FLYING SAUCER
Asher’s mouth falls open as the flying saucer is seen in its full glory. Dazzlingly beautiful lights flow along its perimeter. Multi-colored hues dance on the sand in the shape of an oval; in the shape, finally, of a flying saucer.
Asher’s open mouth stretches into a huge smile. He starts to LAUGH as the saucer’s colors continue to wash over his upturned face.
Abruptly, the lights die, the HUM stops, and the screen GOES TO BLACK.
CUT TO:
Two ten year-old boys are racing their bicycles down a darkening city street. At the far end of the street, a stark white chalk line has been drawn across the black asphalt. This is the finish line.
SUPER: Years ago
Bike wheels spin furiously as each boy pushes to win the race. Riding his well-worn ten-speed, CARL ASHER is in the lead by a length and a half: Unless he spills, victory is his. Pumping his bike pedals, RICHARD HARDEMAN refuses to concede. His bike is every bit as worn as Asher’s. It’s encumbered by a large metal box, nestled like a rusting tumor between the bike handles. Wires from the metal box feed into a larger-than-ordinary, lantern-shaped bicycle light.
ASHER
Gonna win! Gonna beat your ass!
HARDEMAN
No fair!
ASHER’S POINT-OF-VIEW
The finish line is just ahead. Past the finish line, safely resting on the curb, are the boys’ back packs and a fully-loaded Super Soaker.
Before the finish line, someone has discarded some old junk. Included in that pile is a discarded 4” x 4” board, dropped atop an aging wooden crate.
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
Almost at the finish, Asher swerves his bike to the side. He rockets toward the 4” x 4” board.
ON ASHER
He shoots up the impromptu ramp, the slats in the wooden crate CREAKING as he launches into the air. Flying, Asher flips on his battery-powered bicycle light.
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
Passing the finish line, Hardeman skids to a stop. Twisting his head, he sees Asher pirouetting in the air, his bicycle turning in a circle. The bike’s tiny ray of light arcs lazily through the night sky.
ON ASHER
He comes back to earth, his bike BANGING down in front of Hardeman. There’s a SPROING of sound as the chain jumps from the rear sprocket. At that instant, the latch bar flies off the bike’s back wheel.
Hardeman catches the latch bar in his hand.
ASHER
Pretty neat, huh?
He glances at the place where the latch bar used to attach to his bike’s rear wheel. Hardeman lobs the latch bar to him.
ASHER (CONT’D)
(catching the latch bar)
Where’d I put the pliers?
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
Hardeman reaches down and picks up the Super Soaker. He smiles.
HARDEMAN
I won.
ASHER
But it looked cool, right?
Hardeman raises the Super Soaker to shoulder height.
HARDEMAN
Prepare to meet thy doom.
Asher grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut before the flood arrives.
VOICE (O.S.)
(calling out)
Carl!
Asher’s eyes flick open.
ASHER
Supper time, already?
VOICE (O.S.)
(calling out)
Carl! Carl Asher!
Asher’s eyes go to the Super Soaker and then up to Hardeman.
Hardeman wants to pull the trigger. Instead, he lowers the water gun and slings it to his friend.
HARDEMAN
Tomorrow.
ASHER
Double or nothin’?
HARDEMAN
Fix your bike.
Hardeman starts to ride away when he remembers. He turns back.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
Hey, wait.
He raises the lid on the metal tumor. Inside, there’s a tangle of wires and switches, feeding to a generator and linked to a connection box.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
It oughta be charged by now.
He flips the inside switch.
There’s a CRACKLE of electricity as his bicycle light suddenly comes to life. A great THOOOM! noise is heard and A GIANT RAY OF LIGHT shoots out from the device.
ASHER
Holy crap.
EXTERIOR: END OF BOWMAN STREET
The cone ray of light shoots down the street, its brilliantly-white beacon as focused as a searchlight. It finds TWO OLDER BOYS at the end of the street. Astride their own bicycles, they’re immediately blinded.
FIRST OLDER BOY
Shit!
The First Older Boy is FRANCIS RABE. The other boy is his younger brother, JOSEPH. Both boys are stocky, almost fat.
ON HARDEMAN AND ASHER
The boys realize that the Rabes are nearby. This isn't good.
ASHER
Turn it off!
Hardeman fumbles with the switch on the light.
HARDEMAN
I’m trying!
Finally, he kills the beam. The lantern-shaped light’s beam fades, disappearing until it’s only a bicycle light again.
ASHER’S MOM (O.S.)
Carl!
EXTERIOR: END OF BOWMAN STREET
Francis Rabe turns his bike around to face Asher and Hardeman. Obediently, his brother follows suit.
FRANCIS RABE
What the hell was that?
JOSEPH RABE
Yeah, what the hell?
Francis’ feet go onto his bike’s pedals. Slowly, he starts to ride forward. Joseph, as always, follows.
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
Side-by-side, Asher and Hardeman watch as the Rabes roll closer.
ASHER
They’ll wreck it. They wrecked your hoverbug.
HARDEMAN
(wearily)
They wreck everything.
ASHER’S MOM (O.S.)
This is your last warning, young man!
Asher waits, knowing he needs to go but not wanting to abandon his friend.
HARDEMAN
Francis said he was gonna pound you.
ASHER
That was Joseph. As if that fat turd could catch me.
Hardeman’s eyes flick to the latch bar in Asher’s hand. He swings his bike away from the approaching Rabes.
HARDEMAN
(to Asher)
Better go. If you’re late again, you’ll be grounded.
Looking over his shoulder, Hardeman calls out loudly:
HARDEMAN (CONT'D)
Hey, Francis!
Raising his hand in the air, he shoots out his middle finger.
ON THE RABES
They can’t believe that anyone would dare flip them off.
FRANCIS RABE
What the hell?
EXTERIOR: BOWMAN STREET
And the race is on.
The two Rabes rocket past Asher but Hardeman, pedaling as quickly as he can, has built a sizable lead. The Rabes have newer bicycles than Hardeman but they’re bigger and heavier than their prey, too. Within seconds, Hardeman is wheeling off of Bowman Street --
EXTERIOR: HARKINS AVENUE
-- and cutting through the cross traffic of the busier, well-lit Harkins Avenue. Weaving around cars and between two pedestrians, Hardeman vanishes down a side street.
Swerving around a pick-up truck, Francis Rabe is struck at mid-chest by a stick of lumber that extends from its back bed. On collision, the stick SNAPS and Francis goes down hard. Thrown to the asphalt, he loses his three-speed bike. It slides across the street, throwing sparks when it bounces, as the drivers around it SLAM on their brakes. With horns BLARING around him, Francis lays in the middle of the thoroughfare, blinking up at the sky above him.
Joseph Rabe stops his bike beside him. Shaking his head, Francis sits up on his elbows. Finding a broken piece of wood, he tosses it up to his brother.
FRANCIS RABE
Get ‘im!
EXTERIOR: MOYER STREET
Moving too fast, Hardeman shoots through the traffic on this street as well. He turns to his right, seeking a four-lane avenue of escape, but --
HARDEMAN’S POINT-OF-VIEW
Pumping his bike pedals, Joseph Rabe is charging toward him from that direction.
EXTERIOR: MOYER STREET
Hardeman cuts to his left, down an unfamiliar side alley.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
There aren’t any street lights in this alley. Hardeman threads his way through the long and narrow pathway. He hits his brakes, sliding to a stop beside a dumpster. Sitting across from a rusted fire escape, he peers into the near-blackness of the path in front of him.
HARDEMAN’S POINT-OF-VIEW
Vague shapes crowd the space ahead. It’s impossible to see much of anything.
ON HARDEMAN’S BIKE
The lid on the metal tumor raises up as Hardeman’s hand reaches into the box. He hits the switch.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
The THOOOM! noise is heard again and the bike’s giant ray of light illuminates the alleyway. The passage is dotted with the hard-to-carry refuse of a mobile society: Rusted bedsprings, door-less refrigerators, and assorted bags of trash.
EXTERIOR: MOUTH OF THE ALLEY
Sitting atop his bicycle, Joseph waits at the opening of the alley. He crosses his arms over his chest.
JOSEPH RABE
Dead end, asshole!
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Hardeman turns away from his enemy. He looks ahead, to the end of the alley.
A tall wooden fence blocks the end of the alleyway. It stretches from the brick building on one side of the alley to the concrete-faced building on the other.
Like Joseph Rabe said: Dead end.
EXTERIOR: MOUTH OF THE ALLEY
Joseph Rabe slips his feet onto his bike pedals. He rides forward without urgency. Hardeman is trapped.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Hardeman starts riding, too, swerving to avoid obstacles as he tries to stay ahead of Joseph Rabe.. Hardeman’s eyes dart from side-to-side as he looks for an exit or a potential weapon.
JOSEPH RABE’S POINT-OF-VIEW
Ahead of him, Hardeman suddenly begins pumping his bike pedals. He’s racing ahead as if he’s found an escape.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Frowning, Joseph races to catch him.
Almost upon the fence ahead, Hardeman swerves for an improvised launch ramp, just as Asher had done earlier in the day. Bouncing up the back of an abandoned car door, he shots across the enameled-side of a tilted refrigerator.
CLOSE ON
Supporting the refrigerator, a folding table wobbles under the weight of Hardeman’s race up the impromptu ramp. Its rusted legs CREAK.
ON HARDEMAN
His bike carries him skyward.
IN SLOW MOTION
Hardeman and his bike lift into the air. The lantern-shaped light shoots its great beacon into the night sky as the front wheel of the bike glides over the top of the fence. He smiles, triumphant: He’s done an Asher! He’s escaped!
The bike gives a little bump and Hardeman’s head jerks backward. The smile is instantly gone. Alarmed, he starts to turn to look down at the bike’s back wheel.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY - END SLOW MOTION
The rear wheel of the bike catches the lip of the fence. The bike somersaults, pitching Hardeman off its seat as it flips. Bike and rider come CRASHING down on the hard road on the opposite side of the fence. The lantern-shaped light SMASHES.
ON JOSEPH RABE
Racing at Hardeman’s speed, his bike shoots over the car door and across the refrigerator’s side.
CLOSE ON
Beneath the refrigerator, the folding table wobbles again. Suddenly, its rear legs SNAP.
ON JOSEPH RABE
His eyes widen as the refrigerator sags beneath him.
JOSEPH RABE
Fuuuu --
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
BANG! As the fence rocks beside him, Hardeman is showered by dust and splinters.
He picks himself up. His shirt is torn and one of the knees in his pants is gone. He pulls his banged-up bike upright and flips down its kickstand. He cocks his head, listening.
JOSEPH RABE (O.S.)
(groaning)
Uhhh....
But there’s another sound, too. Hardeman looks down at his bike. It seems to be HUMMING. He lifts up the metal tumor’s lid, peers inside: It’s dead inside. He looks at the alleyway around him: Still, nothing. Finally, he looks up.
HARDEMAN’S POINT-OF-VIEW
He finds the source of the HUMMING sound. Above him, a flying ship passes the moon overhead. As he watches, it flickers and disappears.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
A light shines in Hardeman’s face. He looks down from the night sky, shielding his eyes. A bicycle light is aimed into his eyes.
Francis Rabe has found him. Francis leaves his bike on its stand and strides forward.
HARDEMAN
Francis.
Francis CRACKS his knuckles. At this angle, Francis’ shoulders look as wide as the alleyway itself.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
Wanna see my invention?
Francis grabs Hardeman by the shirt collar. He cocks his fist.
O.S. VOICE
Yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!
Francis freezes. Both he and Hardeman look back at the fence, seeking the source of the voice.
ON ASHER
Astride his bike, he soars over the fence that defeated Hardeman and Joseph Rabe. In one arm, he cradles his giant squirt gun.
ASHER
(with joy)
Super soaker!
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Crashing down to the alley floor, Asher maintains his balance as he whips his bicycle around. Hardeman and Francis remain frozen in place, watching this bravado appearance.
With a squeeze of the squirt gun’s trigger, Asher blows a gallon of water into Francis’ face. Releasing Hardeman, Francis stumbles back. Slipping on the wet surface, he falls to the ground.
Asher gives his friend a thumbs-up. When Francis stands again, Asher swings the super soaker around and fires again.
ON THE SUPER SOAKER
A dribble of water leaks out.
EXTERIOR: SIDE ALLEY
Francis lips curl upward in an evil grin. Hardeman and Asher are dead meat.
FRANCIS RABE
I am so gonna pound you.
CUT TO:
ALLEY WAY - BEHIND THE ‘BILL’S POISON’ SALOON - CURRENT DAY
A huge fist SMACKS into the grown-up Richard Hardeman. He stumbles backward, falling to one knee.
‘BILL’S POISON’ SALOON - THE BACK DOOR
There’s a burst of COUNTRY MUSIC as a BAR PATRON opens the back door of the establishment. Seeing two big-bodied THUGS blocking the alley exit, he glances over to Hardeman.
ON HARDEMAN
Groggily, he puts one hand to his injured jaw. He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind.
ON THE PATRON
Smoothly, the Patron steps back inside, closing the door.
EXTERIOR: ALLEY WAY
THUG #1 rubs at his knuckles, satisfied that Hardeman is down. THUG #2 holds a small box: Hardeman’s invention. He rattles it.
THUG #1
Why don’t it work?
THUG #2
It was workin' in the bar.
Thug #2 slaps at the box sullenly.
ON HARDEMAN
Hardeman looks around the narrow alley way. He’s trying to find something he can MacGyver into a weapon.
ON THE THUGS
They look alarmed when, with a CRACKLE of energy, Hardeman’s invention comes to life. Then they smile.
ON THE BOX
A 3-D hologram of a woman appears on the top of the invention. Dressed in a shortie nightgown, the woman (MAGGIE RAMSEY) is pleasantly attractive.
In a manner not unlike that of Princess Leia from STAR WARS, she leans forward and pleads to her unseen audience.
MAGGIE RAMSEY
Help me, Richard Hardeman. You’re my only hope.
EXTERIOR: ALLEY WAY
Thug #1 SNORTS in appreciation. Thug #2 grins.
THUG #1
Fixed it.
Thug #2 pushes his finger through the hologram. The image waves, reacting to the interference, and he withdraws the finger. At that moment, the message repeats itself. Maggie Ramsey pleads in her holographic manner once again.
MAGGIE RAMSEY
Help me, Richard Hardeman. You’re my only hope.
Thug #1 grabs at his crotch.
THUG #2
I got’cher hope right here, honey.
Pleased by his cleverness, he smirks at Thug #1. As he does, the box SQUEALS and Maggie’s image disappears in a sprinkle of sparks. As the box shorts out, electric currents stream over the box and onto Thug #2.
THUG #2 (CONT’D)
Gnnnng....
He spasms, dropping the box. His eyes rolling back in his head, Thug #2 is unconscious even before he hits the ground.
ON THUG #1
Thug #1 watches as his companion collapses. When he looks away from the spectacle, Richard Hardeman is standing up and directly across from him.
ON HARDEMAN
Hardeman holds a length of frayed electrical cord. One end of the cord is tied to a section of concrete block. The other end is looped through a heavy metal c-joint.
Hardeman whips the piece of cord with a certain amount of style. The concrete block and c-joint cut through the air like a homemade bolo.
Perplexed, Thug #1 doesn’t know how to react.
‘BILL’S POISON’ SALOON - THE BACK DOOR
There’s a burst of COUNTRY MUSIC as the Bar Patron opens the door again. As he does, a concrete block shoots free from its cord and SLAMS the wall beside him. With an understanding nod, the Bar Patron steps back inside, closing the door AGAIN.
EXTERIOR: ALLEY WAY
Missing its concrete block, the electrical cord dangles limply in Hardeman’s hand. As he watches, the c-joint slips its knot and falls to the ground.
Thug #1 frowns at Hardeman.
THUG #1
I’m gonna pound you.
Hardeman tenses, ready to fight. Suddenly a WHIPPING sound is heard.
ON THUG #1
Thug #1 whirls around, grasping at the dart that has lodged in his arm. A long, fine wire leads away from the dart. Before Thug #1 can pull it away, a SIZZLE sound cuts through the air. He jerks, bouncing back on the heels of his feet.
EXTERIOR: ALLEY WAY
His head lolling backward, Thug #1 falls to the ground at Hardeman’s feet.
Hardeman looks to his rescuer. A big-bodied man in a blue-and-white uniform releases the Taser wire from his gun. He holsters the weapon.
HARDEMAN
Hey, Francis.
FRANCIS RABE
Thought you oughta know. Pretty Bird is comin’ down.
It takes Hardeman a moment to realize what Francis is talking about. When he does, clearly unhappy.
Francis gestures at the blue-and-white sedan parked in the b.g., its engine idling. On the side of the car’s door are the words: CHC International SECURITY.
FRANCIS RABE (CONT’D)
Let's take my car.
CUT TO:
EXTERIOR: SPACE
A satellite orbits through space.
SUPER: ComReach II
Orbiting Satellite
“Pretty Bird”
As those words fade, another line appears:
SUPER: 71,000 kilometers above Earth
An antenna extends from the satellite. The antenna PULSES as waves shimmer off of it and into the surrounding void. That happens again -- and again.
Although sound doesn’t carry in a vacuum, we hear an electronic CHITTER as communication is made with the machine. The silver shell at the base of the antenna opens in response.
A moment later, the antenna withdraws, pulling inside the satellite.
CAMERA’S POINT-OF-VIEW
Dropping, the Camera soars past the satellite, past the stars and into the stratosphere. Still falling, it drops through the atmosphere, past the clouds and down to earth, lower and lower, down to a man looking up at the stars....
EXTERIOR: CHC INTERNATIONAL - THE HELI-PAD - NIGHT
Still in uniform, Francis Rabe stares up at the sky above him. It’s almost as if he can see Pretty Bird, its antenna enclosed, orbiting above him.
INTERIOR: CHC INTERNATIONAL - RAMSEY’S OFFICE
Richard Hardeman SLAMS his fist down on the polished desk surface in front of him.
HARDEMAN
How could you? How dare you?
Seated behind his desk, DEKE RAMSEY glares up at Hardeman. Even seated, Ramsey conveys a sense of power.
RAMSEY
How did you get in here?
HARDEMAN
You know why I built Pretty Bird. It exists for one specific purpose.
RAMSEY
Your picture is at the front desk. In a black, plastic frame.
I put it there myself.
Ramsey doesn’t act threatened by Hardeman’s appearance. Nothing threatens Ramsey. Mostly, he’s irritated.
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
Security knows damned well that you’re not allowed in here.
Point of fact, you know that, too.
HARDEMAN
Pretty Bird is mine. You can't bring it down.
RAMSEY
You’ve been banned from this building. Banned from
every CHC facility in the world.
HARDEMAN
CHC has a contract. It’s iron-clad. My lawyer got
me a copy.
RAMSEY
Ahhh, the contract.
Making no effort to disguise his next move, Ramsey pulls open a side drawer. He pushes at the security button inside of it.
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
You mean, of course, a legal and binding document.
One where CHC International performs a service and
collects a check. That kind of contract.
Behind Hardeman, visible through the glass windows, a small light in the hallway ceiling begins to FLASH its silent alarm.
RAMSEY (CONT'D)
Your friends at NEEDLE breached their contract. I can
do whatever the hell I want with Pretty Bird.
Ramsey pulls a hardcover book out of the drawer before he closes it. He sets the book on the desk. Watching Ramsey’s eyes, Hardeman pays no attention to it.
HARDEMAN
You’re lying.
Ramsey gives him a level look. He’s telling the truth.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
How low?
RAMSEY
Thirty-five kay.
HARDEMAN
Geosynchronous orbit.
(realizing)
Spy satellite.
RAMSEY
“High altitude observation device” is the name we
use. Call it what you like. All I know is, the Chilean
government pays its bills.
HARDEMAN
But --
RAMSEY (CONT'D)
The State Department signed off on it. Good thing
we put an eye in your satellite, don’t you think?
Ramsey rubs at his chin, as if a thought has just come to him.
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
I did tell you about that, didn’t I?
The outer door to Ramsey’s office swings open. Francis Rabe enters, looking very much like a head security officer. A second CHC SECURITY OFFICER follows after him.
Francis Rabe’s eyes narrow at the sight of Ramsey’s visitor.
FRANCIS RABE
Hardeman?
By his manner, Francis suggests that he’s amazed and upset by the scientist’s appearance in Ramsey’s office. The CHC Security Officer pulls a baton free from its holster as Francis strides forward.
Ramsey holds up a hand, stopping him.
RAMSEY
(to Hardeman)
Let me tell you something about NEEDLE, Richard. It
isn’t what we thought it was. Five people, that’s the entirety
of their sad little club. Three deluded ET-chasers, a college
professor --
At this, he lifts a sheet of paper from his desk and reads the name.
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
Doctor Alicia Gaar.
(voice dripping with disdain)
Glenvale Community College.
HARDEMAN
I know Alicia Gaar.
RAMSEY
You would.
(back to the paper)
Last but not least, a sucker to write the checks that kept
Pretty Bird aloft for the last three years. Mister Daniel McCurry.
HARDEMAN
(surprised)
The billionaire?
RAMSEY
Junior. Did I forget to add the “junior”? The congressman’s
ne’er-do-well son. I guess Daddy cut off his allowance.
He must have tired of waiting for sonny-boy to grow up.
Ramsey nods at Francis Rabe. The security guard steps beside Hardeman and grabs his upper arm in a no-nonsense move. The second Security Officer steps to Hardeman’s other side.
HARDEMAN
Please, Deke.
RAMSEY
Have you seen my latest book, Richard?
Using one hand, he lifts the book from the desk’s surface. He shows it to Hardeman.
HARDEMAN
(reading the title)
'Get a Life.'
RAMSEY
Catchy, don’t you think?
HARDEMAN
(still reading)
‘The truth about Easter Island, Santa Claus, God and
Space Aliens.’
RAMSEY
I’ve sent copies to every executive at NASA. To every
politician that has ever trod the steps of Capital Hill.
HARDEMAN
Someday, I'll prove you wrong.
RAMSEY
Won’t my face be red?
(he smiles thinly)
You’ll want to pay particular attention to Chapter Eighteen.
‘Chariot of the Frauds’. Your name pops up frequently.
HARDEMAN
I have some money. Not Chilean government money but
enough to keep Pretty Bird in place.
Ramsey shakes his head.
RAMSEY
Too late, too late. It’s nothing personal, old friend. Oh, what
the hell --
He gestures to the Security guards.
RAMSEY (CONT'D)
It’s entirely personal. I was delighted to kill Pretty Bird’s signal.
(to Francis Rabe)
Throw him out.
Rabe pulls Hardeman along, none too gently. As they pass through Ramsey’s office doorway, Ramsey lifts a hand to his mouth and calls out:
RAMSEY (CONT’D)
I’ll tell Maggie you said ‘hi’!
CUT TO:
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - DAY
Patches of dirt and tufts of yellow-green grass suggest that we’re in the metal of summer. Metal bleachers have been erected in the center of the air field. The bleachers are nearly filled. The spectators shade their eyes as they look up into the sky overhead.
SUPER: Two years later
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - ANNOUNCER’S BOOTH
The ANNOUNCER speaks into his microphone while staring into the sky. His voice BOOMS through the speakers that surround the bleachers. He has a wonderful voice; it’s the voice of God.
THE ANNOUNCER
(continuing)
...leaving the lovely Miss Jenny at the controls, he will walk unrestrained
along the full length of his plane’s lower wing....
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
The lovely MISS JENNY waves at the crowd from the front seat of the plane. In the seat behind her is the Air Field’s hero: With his tousled dark hair, a gleaming white smile and a champion’s square chin, he looks like an idealized Carl Asher, all grown-up.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
He is “The Man Who Taunts Death”...the one...the only --
Reaching above his head, the Air Field Hero grabs the wings’ struts and pulls himself out of his seat. The crowd GASPS as, smoothly, he back-rolls onto the lower wing.
THE ANNOUNCER (CONT’D)
-- Captain Eddie Etheridge!
Seated on the edge of the wing, EDDIE ETHERIDGE raises his arms to acknowledge the applause from below.
INTERIOR: THE HANGARS
Carl Asher straps himself into the interior of his antique, one-seater plane. Hardeman approaches, a box tucked under one arm.
ASHER
‘Captain’, my ass. The closest Eddie ever came to service was
walking past a Salvation Army bell-ringer.
HARDEMAN
Still. He is “The Man Who Taunts Death”.
ASHER
That was my idea. Mine. I was gonna use it on posters, comic books,
a web site, everything. And he stole it!
HARDEMAN
You could be, "The Man Who Also Taunts Death".
Asher gives him a look.
HARDEMAN
"The Man Who Mocks Death". "The Man Who Laughs at
Death". "The Man Who Lightly Teases Death!"
ASHER
When I'm done here, I'm going to go key your car.
(he sees the box in Hardeman’s arm)
You finished it?
HARDEMAN
A friend helps a friend.
Asher pulls the box away from Hardeman. Opening it, he pulls out a small, silver box. Putting the box in his lap, he lifts out four circular mirrors, each with an electronic grid in its center.
ASHER
A dragon, right?
From the expression on Hardeman’s face, we know it’s not a dragon.
ASHER (CONT’D)
Or...a phoenix, like we talked about. Red and yellow flames,
crackling all around me.
HARDEMAN
(defensively)
I’ve been a little busy lately. This was more of a modification.
TODD THE MECHANIC approaches. He nods at Hardeman but speaks to Asher.
TODD THE MECHANIC
You’re up.
ASHER
Stall for me, okay? Thirty minutes.
TODD THE MECHANIC
Jepperson ain't gonna like it.
Todd exits as Hardeman steps back to survey the airplane. Its side bears a large German cross.
HARDEMAN
You're the Red Baron?
ASHER
I wish.
(a little bitterly)
The Snoopy people threatened to sue my ass.
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - ON EDDIE ETHERIDGE
Balancing on one wing of his plane, Etheridge stands upright. He holds his arms out at his side as the wind buffets his uniform.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
Captain Eddie has done it! He’s standing! Twelve hundred feet in
the sky!
The Announcer allows a slight pause for the crowd to contemplate the enormity of Etheridge’s courage.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.) (CONT'D)
But -- what’s this?
Seen in the distance, Asher’s plane is aloft. He’s headed upward, toward Etheridge’s WWI aircraft.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.) (CONT'D)
It’s an enemy aircraft! Those German markings! The Nazi cross!
ON ASHER AND HIS PLANE
Asher winces at the Announcer’s hyperbole.
ASHER
Nazi cross?
He fumbles with an object on his lap. He lifts it up. It’s a painted helmet, a German cross on each side and a vaguely Germanic spear head at its top. He pulls it onto his head.
THE ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
It’s Admiral Ludwig Hamburg, ladies and gentlemen! Captain Eddie’s
mortal enemy!
The silver box is mounted to the side of Asher’s cockpit. Its four mirrored cells are dotted the top of the plane’s wings. Asher flips a power switch on the silver box and its power light glows.
ASHER
An admiral. In an airplane.
But now he smiles. He reaches out to Hardeman's silver box and pushes its power button.
The four mirrored energy cells SPARK, one after another.
The familiar hologram of Maggie Ramsey appears, facing away from Asher. Each pair of cells combines to provide an image, creating one Maggie on each wing. The images are much bigger than the one seen earlier. These are life-size.
MAGGIE RAMSEY
Help me, Richard Hardeman. You’re my only hope.
ASHER
(perplexed)
Maggie?
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
Standing on one wing, prepared to play out the scenario, Captain Eddie stands frozen. He’s stunned by the sight below him.
ETHERIDGE’S POINT OF VIEW
As Asher’s plane climbs higher, it appears that there are twin women in shortie nightgowns standing on each side of his plane’s wings.
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
Eddie looks at Miss Jenny. She shakes her head.
EXTERIOR: ASHER’S PLANE
Even as the planes draw closer, Asher’s attention is on the Maggie holograms.
ASHER
You're not a phoenix. I wanted a dragon! A monster!
Something better than Dick Asshole’s ex!
At a loss for words, he angrily slams his fist against the silver box. When he does, the energy cells SIZZLE. Electricity arcs across the front of the plane and the Maggie images waver, merging into one another and growing still larger.
MAGGIE RAMSEY
(finishing)
...my only hope.
Asher slams his fist against the box again. When he does, Maggie’s sweet face twists, her expression turning into a nasty sneer.
MAGGIE RAMSEY (CONT'D)
Sorry, Richard...
-- and the Maggie image grows bigger and bigger, enveloping the plane as she stretches forward. Her fingernails turn into claws and her teeth become ragged sickles as this gigantic harpy stretches out her hands and reaches for Captain Eddie.
MAGGIE RAMSEY (CONT’D)
(nastily)
...I’ve met someone else!
Asher SCREAMS.
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
With the apparition almost upon them, Captain Eddie SCREAMS. Miss Jenny SCREAMS, too, shoving the plane’s stick control forward and sending the ancient aircraft into a spin. Captain Eddie falls, clinging to his aircraft’s wing.
The plane dives toward Asher’s aircraft.
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - THE SKY
Asher throws back his throttle, preventing a mid-air collision. Captain Eddie’s plane shoots past as Asher’s skies upward. His vehicle shutters and the engine dies.
Holographic Maggie-Harpy gives a BOOMING VILLAIN CACKLE.
EXTERIOR: WWI PLANE
On his belly, Captain Eddie clings to the wing as Miss Jenny wrestles with her plane’s controls. She struggles to steady the plane but its wing dips. Captain Eddie loses his grip and starts to slide.
ON CAPTAIN EDDIE
At the last moment, his fingertips catch the edge of the wing. He tries to hold on -- but he doesn’t have the strength. His hands release and he falls.
EXTERIOR: ASHER’S PLANE
Trying to restart his plane’s engine, Asher’s attention goes to the falling Captain Eddie. As he plummets toward the bleachers below -- the spectators SCREAMING as they bolt from their seats -- he is suddenly caught and yanked upward, saved by the nearly-invisible tether hidden beneath his clothing.
ASHER
Son of a bitch.
Asher’s engine finally catches hold. Asher looks up.
ASHER’S POINT-OF-VIEW
A leafless birch tree looms directly ahead of him.
EXT. ASHER’S PLANE
Knowing that a crash is inevitable, Asher closes his eyes.
The screen goes to BLACK.
FADE IN:
EXTERIOR: KING COUNTY AIR FIELD - LATER THAT DAY
The bleachers are empty and most of the spectators are gone. An ambulance is in the background. Captain Eddie is strapped to a stretcher and a PARAMEDIC loads him into the back of the ambulance.
A dressing over one eye and a sling on his arm, Asher is walking with Hardeman. They’re walking toward Hardeman’s car.
ASHER
“The Man Who Taunts Death”. You see? The stain on his
trousers?
HARDEMAN
Everybody saw.
ASHER
“The Man Who Wet Himself”, that’s what his name oughta be.
I’d like to see that comic book.
HARDEMAN
Give ‘Spider-man’ a run for its money.
ASHER
The plane’s gone.
HARDEMAN
Totaled? You got insurance?
ASHER
For the routine stuff, yeah. Let me call my agent, see if ‘Scared
by Giant Harpy Bitch’ is covered in one of the sub-clauses.
HARDEMAN
Sorry.
CUT TO:
INTERIOR: RESTAURANT - THAT SAME DAY
It’s a small, family-style restaurant. Asher and Hardeman share a booth away from the entrance, their plates of food in front of them.
HARDEMAN
It’ll be an adventure. A real life adventure. When’s the last time you
had one of those?
ASHER
You built....
(grappling with this)
You built a flying saucer.
Hardeman is quietly proud of his feat. Asher toys with the food in front of him.
ASHER
The thing of it is -- and I know you know this -- there’s no such
thing as a UFO.
HARDEMAN
You know that and I know that. But this is the heartland of America
and America, my friend --
A WAITRESS approaches as Hardeman finishes his sentence.
HARDEMAN (CONT’D)
-- believes.
WAITRESS
Believes what, hon?
HARDEMAN
Believes in flying saucers.
The Waitress fills his cup of coffee as she speaks.
WAITRESS
Oh my, yes. I saw one myself, over in Pulverton. It was
bowling league night.
The Waitress leaves. Asher leans in toward Hardeman.
ASHER
Maggie Ramsey. It had to be Mags?
ON HARDEMAN
Reflecting, he has a faraway look in his eyes.
CUT TO:
HARDEMAN’S HOME - THE KITCHEN - SOMETIME IN THE PAST
Bare-chested and in his pajama bottoms, the unshaven Hardeman is a wreck. Dirty plates and silverware decorate the kitchen table. An opened beer can stands beside a folded newspaper. Hardeman holds a note in one hand.
CLOSE ON THE NOTE
The note curls over Hardeman’s slightly shaking hand. The only thing we can read clearly is:
so sorry. Maggie.
ON HARDEMAN
His fingers open and the note flutters toward the table. It lands atop the local newspaper.
CLOSE ON THE NEWSPAPER
It’s the B-section of the daily paper. Printed over the center fold is a photo of a smiling Deke Ramsey. Over the Ramsey photo, there’s a headline: CHC HEAD SAYS NO SUCH THING AS UFOS.
ON HARDEMAN
He picks up the butter knife, still tinted by the color of old jam. Suddenly, he stabs the Ramsey photo over and over again.
CUT TO:
INTERIOR: RESTAURANT
His eyes regain focus as he leaves this memory behind. He smiles at Asher.
HARDEMAN
I've moved on.
(on Asher’s expression)
I swear, that thing today, I had some old hi-def footage. That’s
the only reason I used it.
ASHER
I’m gonna have Princess Leia nightmares. You know that.
Hardeman pulls out his wallet, pulls a photograph from one of its sleeves, and passes it over.
HARDEMAN
I’ve met someone new.
Asher looks at the photo, almost laughs -- and then he sees that Hardeman is serious.
ASHER
Really.
HARDEMAN
Alicia Gaar. Teaches at the jay-cee.
ASHER
She rich?
Hardeman snatches the photo away.
HARDEMAN
She lives in a studio apartment behind a bar and drives
a used Daewoo Tubira.
ASHER
So she is rich -- compared to me.
Asher looks down at his lunch plate, wanting to believe Hardeman. He almost speaks -- doesn’t -- before returning to the subject at hand.
ASHER (CONT'D)
You’re not just allowed to -- fly -- a flying saucer. There
has to be a law against it.
HARDEMAN
We’re talking little laws. Minor ones.
ASHER
Well, how much is a little?
HARDEMAN
Nobody’s gonna care, I promise you. Besides, like somebody
once told me: It only counts if you get caught.
Asher smiles.
ASHER
A wise man.
His thoughts churn and, in his face, we can see him consider all of the possibilities presented by this adventure.
HARDEMAN
Trust me. You’re gonna love it.
CUT TO:
EXTERIOR: DESERT - NIGHT
The desert is flat and dark and bitterly cold. Asher stands alone on the sands, his hands buried in his jacket pockets.
His car is in the b.g., a dull black blob that lists to one side. Suddenly, Asher screams into the night sky.
ASHER
Where the hell are you, Hardeman?
The sky remains empty. The desert remains silent. Asher attempts to burrow himself a little deeper into his jacket.
ASHER (CONT’D)
I don’t love it.
He begins to pace, trying to warm himself. He stops pacing. This time, when he shouts into the sky, there’s an edge of panic to his words.
ASHER (CONT’D)
This isn’t fun.
In the distance, a coyote HOWLS.
ASHER (CONT’D)
I followed the directions. I made good time. I’m right where
‘x’ marks the spot. I’m where I’m supposed to be so where
are you?
(beat - yelling)
I’m freezing my ass off!
The coyotes HOWLS again. This time, the sound is louder. Closer. More frightening.
Asher seems to be really aware of it for the first time.
ASHER (CONT’D)
This isn’t fun, buddy. What this is, is cold. This is miserable.
(loudly)
That's it! I’m gone!
He stomps back to his car. He yanks at the driver’s door, pulling it open before he notices that the car is tilting to one side.
ASHER’S POINT-OF-VIEW
The tire is flat. Asher gives the tire a cursory examination, plucking at an unseen object. He pulls free a short, jagged piece of brown glass.
ASHER (CONT’D)
The spare's flat. No cell reception. And wolves are coming
to eat me.
(beaten)
Welcome to my world.
INTERIOR: FLYING SAUCER
The interior of the aircraft is suffused with a gentle green glow. Hardeman sits in the pilot’s chair. He reaches toward the instrument panel. He twists a knob and the craft begins to HUM.
EXTERIOR: DESERT - ANGLE DOWN ON ASHER
The HUM fills the air and Asher rises, stepping away from the car. Suddenly, a great ball of light fills the sky above him and he staggers backward, almost as if he’s been struck.
FULL SHOT - ASHER - FLYING SAUCER
Asher’s mouth falls open as the flying saucer is seen in its full glory. Dazzlingly beautiful lights flow along its perimeter. Multi-colored hues dance on the sand in the shape of an oval; in the shape, finally, of a flying saucer.
Asher’s open mouth stretches into a huge smile. He starts to LAUGH as the saucer’s colors continue to wash over his upturned face.
Abruptly, the lights die, the HUM stops, and the screen GOES TO BLACK.
CUT TO:
Then, there's this:
Yeah, our very first book trailer. Probably our very last book trailer, too.
See, neither one of us thinks that book trailers make much sense. Oh, they're kinda fun, it's a kick to see a trailer for your very own book, but do they work? Essentially, do people see book trailers and decide, at that moment, they need to buy the book?
There are good trailers (we like this one), there are bad ones (too many to count) and we've never, ever, bought a book because of its trailer. Over on Absolute Write, various writers are debating the subject -- right here -- and the feeling seems to be, while the occasional trailer sells the occasional book, a bad book trailer actually kills any potential interest in a novel.
We decided we'd, maybe, like a book trailer but we didn't have an interest in making it ourselves. Price shopping, we discovered that the pros at CreateSpace will make a 30-second, text only, trailer for the low, low price of $1,199.00. We like CreateSpace, we have two of our novels available through CreateSpace, and we laughed like crazy when we saw how much they were charging for their product.
$1200 for a half-minute block of words? Really?
So we did what we often do when we think things are ridiculous. We got even more ridiculous-er. We went to fiverr.com and tried to find someone who would make us a 30-second trailer, text only, trailer for a tiny amount of cash. And we got lucky. Rey from Virtual Solution said he could provide the very thing for five bucks...with some pretty severe limitations.
We'd have to use an existing template, one that Rey has provided to other fiverr fans. The music, the images, these were pretty much all the same from one project to the next. While we'd be able to provide six lines of text, each line of text could be no longer than three words. So, if we hoped to be startlingly original, if we hoped to sell multiple copies of book from this trailer, we were pretty much out of luck.
On the other hand: $5. How could we not? Rey said the HD version (yep, he sent us two version for our fiver) would load faster if we slapped it on YouTube first so there you go. We hope you like it. If you don't...five bucks!
There are good trailers (we like this one), there are bad ones (too many to count) and we've never, ever, bought a book because of its trailer. Over on Absolute Write, various writers are debating the subject -- right here -- and the feeling seems to be, while the occasional trailer sells the occasional book, a bad book trailer actually kills any potential interest in a novel.
We decided we'd, maybe, like a book trailer but we didn't have an interest in making it ourselves. Price shopping, we discovered that the pros at CreateSpace will make a 30-second, text only, trailer for the low, low price of $1,199.00. We like CreateSpace, we have two of our novels available through CreateSpace, and we laughed like crazy when we saw how much they were charging for their product.
$1200 for a half-minute block of words? Really?
So we did what we often do when we think things are ridiculous. We got even more ridiculous-er. We went to fiverr.com and tried to find someone who would make us a 30-second trailer, text only, trailer for a tiny amount of cash. And we got lucky. Rey from Virtual Solution said he could provide the very thing for five bucks...with some pretty severe limitations.
We'd have to use an existing template, one that Rey has provided to other fiverr fans. The music, the images, these were pretty much all the same from one project to the next. While we'd be able to provide six lines of text, each line of text could be no longer than three words. So, if we hoped to be startlingly original, if we hoped to sell multiple copies of book from this trailer, we were pretty much out of luck.
On the other hand: $5. How could we not? Rey said the HD version (yep, he sent us two version for our fiver) would load faster if we slapped it on YouTube first so there you go. We hope you like it. If you don't...five bucks!
