by Ross LaManna

FADE IN:

1 EXT. BOREAL FOREST - ALASKA - (AERIAL SHOT) - DAY

Flying. Not at the intangible height of a jet, but at

spitting distance from the treetops. We're in central

Alaska, the Big Lonely, just north of the Arctic Circle.

A thick forest follows the contours of mountain foothills

like a deep-pile carpet. Up at treeline the forest thins to

tundra, a grassy scruff turning red and yellow with the

coming of autumn.

On the horizon, the hills rise to meet the Endicott

Mountains, a great fortress wall of granite so sharp and

jagged that snow cannot stick to its face. This is how all

North America once looked -- raw, indomitable.

Then, abruptly coming into the SCENE is a colossal etching

across the landscape too deliberate to be of natural origin.

Bisecting this country like a metallic ribbon -- or a scar,

depending on your point of view -- is the 800-mile-long

Trans-Alaskan Pipeline.

Even the immensity of the pipeline is rendered insignificant

by the vastness of the land. It goes on, and on, and on...

DISSOLVE TO:

A lone MAN walks along the Haul Road, a one-lane gravel

trail running parallel to the pipeline. The weather turns

sour -- rough wind and stinging snow cut across the man's

path.

DISSOLVE TO:

The man is ERIC DESMOND, twenty-four, clean-shaven,

determined. He's clearly out of place here, dressed in a

business suit and a light, camel-hair topcoat.

Eric is trying to follow some footprints in the snow -- a

predator's tracks, those of a wolf or coyote. But the

footprints ahead have faded, covered by the snow and wind.

DISSOLVE TO:

The weather becomes more oppressive. Heavy snow, gale winds

and sub-zero temperatures make his progress tortuous. Eric

strives stubbornly forward.

(CONTINUED)

1 CONTINUED:

DISSOLVE TO:

Eric has gathered some branches. He tries to make a fire.

Moisture from his breath has frozen in the upturned collar

of his insufficient coat, and his skin is split raw from the

cold.

His hands are too numb to hold the matches. After several

attempts at striking one, he slumps down next to the pile of

wood, exhausted and frustrated.

DISSOLVE TO:

The snow has covered the pile of branches. Eric still sits

next to it, partially covered in snow himself.

ERIC

His face is a death mask: eyes half-open and dull, lips a

purplish blue, bloodless skin crystallizing as it ices over.

The wind HOWLS around him. The snow sticks to his eyelashes

and hair without melting.

END DREAM

2 INT. DARK BEDROOM - NIGHT

Eric bolts up in bed. Next to him, ANNE MARIE GAUVIN sits

up and hugs him. All that can be seen of her in the dark is

a lovely silhouette and a cascade of dark hair. After a

moment, Eric kisses her. He shakes off the dream and lies

back down.

3 EXT. HAUL ROAD AND PIPELINE - CLOSE - DAY

A metal sign, peppered with shotgun holes, is posted near a

pipeline support piling:

PIPELINE UTILITY CORRIDOR

PRIVATE PROPERTY

NO TRESPASSING

NO HUNTING

NO TRAPPING

NO SHOOTING

WIDER

Eric walks quietly past the sign, intent on something ahead

of him. Although still somewhat boyish in appearance, he's

confident and resolute in attitude. His clothes have a

distinctly western feel: Lucchese boots, Levis 501's, Mahan

cotton shirt. His down parka is unzipped in the sunny,

windless, forty-degree afternoon.

(CONTINUED)

3 CONTINUED:

He pauses, then brings to his shoulder a rifle with a

four-power scope mounted atop it. He peers through the

scope.

HIS POV - THROUGH SCOPE

He puts the crosshairs on the shoulder flank of a big,

ivory-white timber wolf, fifty yards away.

BACK TO SCENE

Anne Marie stands beside Eric, a Nikon with a telephoto lens

in her hand, holding her breath in anticipation. She's

twenty-three, pretty, with soft features and piercing blue

eyes. She wears Eddie Bauer woman's gear like she was born

in it.

Eric expertly fixes his aim and slowly squeezes the trigger.

But instead of a loud retort, there is only the dull POP of

a CO2-powered dart gun.

NEW ANGLE

The tranquilizer dart finds its mark in the wolf's fleshy

shoulder. The wolf takes off running, but almost

immediately slows, sits, then lies down.

Eric and Anne Marie hurry over to the wolf, who is breathing

deeply. Eric kneels next to him and strokes his thick fur.

ERIC

What a beauty.

(to Anne Marie)

Hand me the transmitter.

Anne Marie passes to Eric a tiny, weatherproof homing device

attached to a steel collar band. Eric puts the collar

loosely around the wolf's neck and crimps it in place, all

the while TALKING soothingly to the semi-conscious animal.

Anne Marie smiles at Eric's tenderness and snaps some

photos.

With the collar in place and transmitter activated, Eric

backs away while the wolf tries to rouse itself from its

narcosis.

ERIC

(continuing)

He's coming around fine.

ANNE MARIE

Be right back. I left my

camcorder in the car.

(CONTINUED)

3 CONTINUED: (2)

FOLLOW ANNE MARIE

as she hurries back to their International Scout. On the

door of the Scout is a stylized logo of an oil derrick,

under which are the words:

NORTHLAND PETROLEUM CORP.

Anne Marie opens the hatchback and grabs a video camera.

ANGLE ON ERIC AND THE WOLF

Eric smiles as the wolf wobbles tentatively to his feet and

trots unsteadily away. Near the treeline the wolf turns,

glances back at Eric and then disappears into the forest.

NEW ANGLE

Anne Marie is taping the wolf's retreat. Looking through

the viewfinder, she crosses a gully between a pipeline

piling and a rock formation. Eric turns toward her and a

glint of light in the debris at her feet catches his eye.

ERIC

Anne Marie! Stop!

She glances down. Something metal is half-buried in the

dead leaves and gravel.

ERIC

(continuing)

Don't move.

Eric runs over. He pokes at the object with a stick. With

a SNAP, a steel leg trap chomps the stick in half. Anne

Marie jumps back. Eric brushes the dead leaves on the

ground behind her and she carefully backtracks out of the

gully.

ERIC

(continuing)

Goddamn trappers!

He angrily rips the trap out of the ground, unearthing

several others attached to one another by a long chain.

ERIC

(continuing)

Takes nerve, laying traplines on

restricted land.

Eric slips the scope off the dart rifle and climbs up the

pipeline on foot pegs to the top of an anchoring poINT.

(CONTINUED)

3 CONTINUED: (3)

Using the scope as a telescope, he scans up and down the

Haul Road.

ANNE MARIE

What are you doing?

ERIC

He still might be around. I saw

fresh tire tracks coming in.

HIS POV - THROUGH SCOPE

The road and the pipeline stretch toward either horizon,

north and south. In the distance, a jeep is parked on the

Haul Road. Near it, a Man climbs down into another shallow

ravine.

BACK TO SCENE

Eric hurries down the footpegs.

ERIC

Man and a jeep, about a mile and

a half down.

He jumps into the Scout. Anne Marie stuffs her cameras into

the hatchback. As soon as she climbs in, Eric tears out.

4 INT. SCOUT - (MOVING SHOT)

It races along the dusty gravel road at 60 MPH.

5 EXT. HAUL ROAD

Startled at the APPROACH of the Scout, the Trapper uproots

his traps and runs out of the ravine. He WHISTLES and

another Trapper appears nearby.

6 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP

They pile into their dilapidated, all-terrain jeep. It's

oddly well-equipped, however. Bolted to the dashboard is an

expensive tape player and a beat-up radio beacon receiver

with a round locating screen. They zoom off.

7 INT. SCOUT - (MOVING SHOT)

Eric stomps on the gas. The dust from the jeep obscures his

view but he's gaining on them anyway. Anne Marie hangs on

and squints her eyes against the choking dust.

8 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP - (MOVING SHOT)

The driver is LEMALLE (35), a tall, ugly, rawboned Canadian.

His entire outfit is made of animal hide. He has long red

hair, and a reptilian face usually twisted into a sadistic

sneer. While driving, he scans along the pipeline.

LEMALLE

Where the fuck did you drop

Corbett off?

In the passenger seat, MITCHELL (38), chews tobacco and

looks grim. He's a squat, flat-faced Okie, with curly

matted hair and tired grey eyes. He's dressed in a brown

long coat and has a Colt .45 Peacemaker in a quick-draw

holster strapped to his leg. Despite his intimidating air,

confrontation is not his style.

He spots a figure up ahead, where the road crosses a muddy

creek.

MITCHELL

He's over there.

9 EXT. HAUL ROAD

Turning sharply, the trappers' jeep splashes through the

creek bed without slowing. Bouncing, it comes down hard

against the axle-deep bank at the creek's high water mark.

LeMalle tries to back out, but can't find traction in the

mud.

Eric stops the Scout thirty yards behind them.

10 INT. SCOUT

Eric opens his door. To Anne Marie:

ERIC

Stay here.

ANNE MARIE

Be careful -- there're two of

them.

Eric reaches in the back seat and hands something to Anne

Marie.

ERIC

If I unzip my parka, stick this

out the window.

11 EXT. HAUL ROAD

Eric confidently approaches the jeep.

(CONTINUED)

11 CONTINUED:

Then, a third trapper climbs from the creek. He's got a

line of traps slung around his neck and a world of

experience on his face. He's BEN CORBETT, a life-long

huntsman, somewhere past forty, weathered beyond his years.

He has a feral nose, thick beard and dark, smart, hunter's

eyes. He wears a hooded cotton sweat shirt, cotton

coveralls and vapor-barrier mountain boots. On his belt is

a holster rig cradling a .44 magnum revolver.

Eric slows down. He didn't expect to face anyone as

formidable as Corbett.

12 INT. / EXT. JEEP

Emboldened by Corbett's presence, LeMalle reaches into the

back seat and grabs his 6.5 by 55 Swedish military carbine.

CORBETT

(to LeMalle)

No shooting. Let's see who's so

interested in us.

Corbett has an incongruously affable voice. He throws his

traps into the jeep, then strides closer toward Eric.

MITCHELL

(to Corbett)

Ain't worth it, Ben...

13 EXT. HAUL ROAD - CREEK CROSSING - LONG SHOT

As Corbett comes closer, Eric realizes this might not've

been a great idea. Corbett squints his eyes and sniffs the

air, as if by this he can gauge his opponent's mettle.

ERIC

You got two counts against you --

trapping out of season and

poaching on restricted land.

CORBETT

Can't be much of a crime, if all

they got minding the area is a

cocky kid.

ERIC

I got your plate number, asshole.

Maybe you feel like spending a

few months in jail.

Corbett just smiles.

(CONTINUED)

13 CONTINUED:

But LeMalle, rankled, sticks the carbine out the jeep

window.

Seeing the rifle pointed at him, Eric freezes, then slowly

unzips his parka.

LEMALLE

Ben? Sure you don't want me to

drop the fucker?

Corbett doesn't answer. Then, his eyes narrow and he looks

past Eric at the Scout.

CORBETT'S POV

The passenger in the Scout sticks what looks like another

rifle out the window.

BACK TO SCENE

Eric quickly glances over his shoulder to make sure Anne

Marie's backing him up.

ERIC

You leave and don't come back,

that's the end of it.

After a long moment, Corbett smiles again, then turns away

from Eric. He motions LeMalle to the front of the jeep.

Frustrated, LeMalle slams back the safety on the carbine and

throws it in the back seat.

ANGLE ON TRAPPERS

Mitchell climbs into the jeep and starts the engine.

LeMalle and Corbett rock the jeep back and forth in the rut.

While pushing, Corbett rips the sole of his boot on a sharp

piece of granite. He cusses and pushes harder.

14 EXT. HAUL ROAD - CREEK CROSSING

Eric walks back to the Scout. He feels the trappers' eyes

on his back, but forces himself not to hurry.

The trappers free their vehicle. Corbett gets in the

driver's seat, and they take off.

15 INT. SCOUT

Anne Marie's hands are shaking as she pulls the plastic

tranquilizer rifle back in the window.

(CONTINUED)

15 CONTINUED:

ANNE MARIE

(unnerved)

Great idea -- pointing a lousy

dart gun at some nut with a

high-powered hunting rifle.

ERIC

Bastards took off, though, didn't

they?

16 EXT. BOREAL FOREST - LATER THAT DAY

The trappers have left the flatlands of the Haul Road area.

Now their jeep climbs a pathway over the rolling foothills.

17 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP - (MOVING SHOT)

Corbett broods while driving. Mitchell looks out the

window. The silence makes LeMalle uncomfortable.

LEMALLE

All this fuckin' land, and we're

locked out. Makes me puke.

CORBETT

Jawing about it won't change it.

LEMALLE

Three hundred seventy-five

million acres in this state. I'm

real tired of runnin' into

people.

MITCHELL

Then don't look to your left.

18 EXT. SPORTSMEN'S CAMP

A brand-new Land Rover is parked on an alluvial fan in a

bend in a small river. Scattered about is an assortment of

expensive camping gear, beer cans, spent shells and other

garbage.

Three toy-macho, vacationing SPORTSMEN are guzzling beer and

BLASTING fish in the shallow river with 12-gauge shotguns.

They look up and glower suspiciously as the jeep slows and

stops.

19 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP

LeMalle grabs his carbine.

CORBETT

Leave it here.

(CONTINUED)

19 CONTINUED:

MITCHELL

Let's keep going. We're only an

hour from Devil's Cauldron.

CORBETT

(pats Mitchell's shoulder)

Relax. I just want to ask them

how the hunting is.

20 EXT. SPORTSMEN'S CAMP

Corbett gets out of the jeep. He regards the Sportsmen,

their shotguns and their mess with ill-concealed contempt.

The Sportsmen clutch their weapons and watch Corbett. He

walks around the camp, spotting a rubber-lined rucksack

stuffed with dead ermine. After a long, tense moment,

Corbett smiles.

CORBETT

Looks like you've had some luck.

Where's your guide?

SPORTSMAN #1

We're on our own, if it's any of

your damn business.

CORBETT

(re ermine)

You did real good.

He crouches next to the dead animals and strokes the fur.

LEMALLE

(to Corbett)

No swinging shit. They're over

their goddamned limit.

CORBETT

(to Sportsmen)

My friend is right. Supposed to

have a licensed guide when you're

on this land, too.

SPORTSMAN #1

Hey, we paid our fuckin' permit

fees.

LeMalle amuses himself by pissing in their campfire. No one

notices that in the b.g., quiet Sportsman #3 unzips his

parka, exposing a .45 Peacemaker in a belt holster.

(CONTINUED)

20 CONTINUED:

SPORTSMAN #2

I were you, I'd drive right on

outta here again. Now.

CORBETT

(calmly)

This was my roaming land, 'til

the government took it over.

Only Innuit can hunt here now,

and tourists, like you.

Corbett swings the rucksack of carcasses onto the hood of

the Land Rover. Pissed, Sportsmen #1 and #2 step closer to

him.

CORBETT

(continuing)

According to tribal law, hunters

passing through the land of

another tribe can only take game

to survive. They can eat the

meat, but have to surrender the

hides.

LeMalle pulls a hunting knife and holds up one of the

ermine.

LEMALLE

Want the meat?

SPORTSMAN #1

Fuck you, dirtball.

Corbett chuckles and Mitchell spits.

WIDER

LeMalle digs through the camping goodies in the back of the

Land Rover, many still in their packages. He helps himself

to some sandwiches and a 12-pack of beer.

LEMALLE

I say shoot 'em, bury 'em with

their shiny new car.

MITCHELL

(to LeMalle)

If you're gonna take something,

take it and let's go.

Corbett looks down to fasten the top of the rucksack.

(CONTINUED)

20 CONTINUED: (2)

NEW ANGLE

Suddenly, Sportsman #3 reaches inside his parka and pulls

the pistol. He swings it toward LeMalle.

LeMalle looks up when he hears the HAMMER cock.

There is a deafeningly loud SHOT.

Sportsman #3 falls down dead at LeMalle's feet.

Off to one side, Corbett holds a huge, smoking .44 magnum

six-shooter in his hand.

Shotgun in hand, Sportsman #1 gauges his chances of blasting

Corbett. Nil. When Corbett turns to him, he lies the

weapon down. Sportsman #2 rushes to his friend.

Looking bleak, Mitchell spits again. Corbett crosses to

LeMalle and knocks from his hands the things he wanted to

steal. Chastised, LeMalle smolders. After a moment:

CORBETT

(to Sportsmen)

Put him in your truck. Smell of

blood will attract the bears.

(to trappers)

Let's go.

As Corbett walks to the jeep, he's too angry to notice that

he's stepped in a patch of mud under the Land Rover.

Near the jeep, LeMalle stops and pulls them into a huddle.

LEMALLE

I don't believe in leavin'

witnesses behind, Ben.

MITCHELL

It was self defense. Leave it at

that.

LEMALLE

You think those fucks will tell

it that way?

CORBETT

(ending the argument)

We'll get a head start before

they go crying to the law.

Corbett turns and FIRES two rounds from his .44 into the

engine of the Land Rover. The Sportsmen stare and sputter.

(CONTINUED)

20 CONTINUED: (3)

CORBETT

(continuing; to Sportsmen)

You can pack out of here -- two,

three days' hike along this river

at most. Weather should hold

this early in the season.

Corbett and Mitchell get in their jeep.

LEMALLE

isn't yet satisfied. He walks back over to the Sportsmen,

kneeling beside their fallen friend, and crouches right

beside them. Intimidated, Sportsman #2 looks away, but

LeMalle grabs his chin and turns his face back toward him.

LEMALLE

Think I'm pretty? You better

forget how we look, 'cause next

time they won't keep me from

killing you. This land ain't

quite civilized, you know...

He unsheathes his buck knife. BELOW FRAME, he slices across

the forehead of the dead Sportsman, peels back his scalp and

cuts it loose, Indian-style. The Sportsmen are stunned and

sickened.

ANGLE ON TRAPPERS' JEEP

Corbett looks at Mitchell and wearily shakes his head.

MITCHELL

At least he scalped the dead one.

21 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON - DUSK

Devil's Cauldron Hot Springs is a cluster of twenty tiny

dwellings connected by an unpainted boardwalk. The town

squats, ugly and temporary-looking, in a dirt clearing fifty

miles north of the Arctic Circle. Thirty miles east of the

Pipeline, it's almost dead center of interior Alaska.

At the edge of town is a gravel airstrip. Mixed with the

prospector-era sod-roof cabins are a few prefabricated

houses. The boon brought by men building the pipeline is

long gone. Now only a few itinerant loggers, natives and

bush dwellers remain to fight boredom, each other and the

depression of the oncoming winter.

Enough steam escapes from the hot springs to perpetually

blanket the valley with fog. The spa is log-walled and

horseshoe- shaped, with partitioned baths inside. Facing it

(CONTINUED)

21 CONTINUED:

are a mud-walled fire bath, a wooden steam bath called a

Maqi, six one-room cabins for let, and an unused dance hall.

LEO MEYERLING opens the tailgate of a Dodge truck with the

Northland Petroleum logo and "District Supervisor" on the

door. Meyerling is short and bald with a completely

disreputable face. He staples a poster on a wall. It has a

picture of him on it, and:

LEO MEYERLING

for

State Legislature

VOTE FOR THE PEOPLE'S FRIEND!

22 EXT. KENAI'S GENERAL STORE

Corbett and the other trappers drive past Meyerling and park

their jeep as the sun disappears behind the foothills.

23 INT. KENAI'S GENERAL STORE

A handwritten public notice next to a schedule of church

meetings reads: "Live each day so you can look every damn

man in the eye and tell him to go to hell." There is a post

office in the corner with some combination boxes and a

wicketless window.

The trappers come in. Corbett sits in a chair and pulls his

boots off. One of his wool socks is wet. He nods to the

man sitting in the other chair, SAM WILDER. Wilder is short

and tough, with a full head of crewcut grey hair and

weather- ravaged face that makes him look older than his

sixty years.

CORBETT

Hullo, Sam. Slow day?

WILDER

(wary)

Ben...boys. Yeah, real slow, and

I'd like to keep it that way.

CORBETT

(conciliatory)

Just passing through.

A chubby Inupiat (interior Eskimo), wearing thick glasses,

several heavy sweaters and battery-heated socks, fusses

behind the counter. He's EARL KENAI, owner of the hot

springs spa and the general store.

LeMalle chews on a handful of bear jerky. Kenai stares at

LeMalle until he begrudgingly pays for the jerky. Corbett

pulls on some sneakers and hands his boots to Kenai.

(CONTINUED)

23 CONTINUED:

CORBETT

(continuing; re boot)

Needs patching.

KENAI

Twenty-five dollar.

CORBETT

(smiles)

Sure have learned to worship the

white man's god.

Kenai nods agreeably and holds his hand out. Corbett pays

him. Meyerling comes in and posts some fliers on the

corkboard.

MEYERLING

I hope I can count on you

gentlemen to vote for The

People's Friend this November.

CORBETT

Share some of that oil company

money in your pocket and you can.

Meyerling smiles like a toad, then slaps another poster on

the wall. LeMalle throws his knife and it STICKS in the

poster between Meyerling's spread fingers. Meyerling jumps

back and the trappers laugh. Meyerling looks to Wilder for

support.

WILDER

(to Meyerling)

One flier comes loose and I shoot

you for littering.

MEYERLING

(exiting; grudgeless)

Have your fun... just remember

The People's Friend come election

day.

WILDER

(shakes his head)

Oil Company candidate running on

that slogan makes about as much

sense as a rat fucking a

grapefruit.

CORBETT

Hard to work up an interest in

politics, way we live. You're

the first people we've seen in

two weeks.

(CONTINUED)

23 CONTINUED: (2)

LEMALLE

(to Kenai)

How about a quart of Jack

Daniel's?

KENAI

How about it is right. Back in

the primary this town was voted

dry.

LEMALLE

(to Corbett)

Aw, shit. Let's go. Leave a

note for Viking Bob, tell him to

meet us in Cache.

CORBETT

Relax. One more day without

drink won't kill you. Right,

Sam?

WILDER

I'm living proof of that sad

fact.

CORBETT

Can we buy the Marshal some

dinner?

WILDER

No, I better stay at my post.

Even without the hootch riling

'em up, you know how

mean-spirited folks get when they

smell winter coming.

24 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON VALLEY - LONG SHOT - NIGHT

An early STORM has blown in from the north, bringing

whipping winds and freezing rain.

25 INT. RENTAL CABIN

Corbett peers out the tiny window, frowning. LeMalle cleans

his carbine while eating beans and bacon. Mitchell hunches

over a table. He's making a scrimshaw -- delicately

engraving, using homemade tools, on a palm-sized piece of

whale bone. He rubs his eyes and looks up at Corbett.

MITCHELL

So much for the walking weather

you predicted.

(CONTINUED)

25 CONTINUED:

CORBETT

Had no choice...

(pointedly, at LeMalle)

...Given the situation.

MITCHELL

I know. Least you didn't shoot

all of them.

LEMALLE

Fuck you, Mitchell. Woulda been

my ass if Ben didn't waste that

prick.

CORBETT

(after a beat)

Mitchell, look, it don't take

three of us to wait for Viking

Bob.

Mitchell glances at LeMalle, then at Corbett.

CORBETT

(continuing)

Go ahead. Take the jeep. I'll

come to Cache with Bob when he

gets here.

MITCHELL

Okay by me. You're the one likes

these hot springs so much.

CORBETT

Leave my traps. We'll tag up,

couple days.

26 EXT. HAUL ROAD - "THE TURTLE" - DAY

The winds have died down. The rain has turned to a light

snow.

A mobile arctic dwelling sits on a rise next to the Haul

Road. It's a double-unit weathertight cocoon of fiberglass

and aluminum, pulled by a diesel rig on oversized tires.

The front module is 12 by 24, the rear 12 by 18.

An extended-cab pickup pulls up and Sam Wilder gets out.

The gravel-and-dirt Haul Road, paralleling the pipeline for

400 miles, is closed to the public. An arriving vehicle,

therefore, is news. The front door of the dwelling opens.

Eric and Anne Marie come outside, delighted to see Wilder.

(CONTINUED)

26 CONTINUED:

WILDER

I was making my rounds, saw your

hangar wide open, plane getting

rained on, so I closed it up.

ERIC

Thanks.

ANNE MARIE

(to Wilder)

I bet you haven't had lunch.

WILDER

(smiles)

Bet you're right. But I didn't

come by to wangle a meal --

ERIC

-- We appreciate the company.

Anne Marie's getting cabin fever

already.

Anne Marie shoots a look at Eric but doesn't disagree --

this is obviously an issue with them. Wilder looks with

amusement at the mobile dwelling.

WILDER

What'd you say they call these

spaceships?

ERIC

Mobile Arctic Dwelling -- MAD.

ANNE MARIE

I call it 'the Turtle,' as in

carrying your home on your back.

ERIC

Best thing is, Meyerling has to

chase around to find us.

ANNE MARIE

(laughs)

The little creep hates it that

Eric actually does what the

company hired him to do.

WILDER

Watch it with Meyerling. Man's

as mean and corrupt as they get.

Cut his mother's throat if it'd

get him a couple votes.

(CONTINUED)

26 CONTINUED: (2)

Looking past Wilder, Eric points out some smoke on the

horizon.

ERIC

Hey, Sam, look over there. Black

and white smoke.

WILDER

Damn. Likely that's an SOS.

Have to pass on that lunch.

ERIC

We'll go with you.

CUT TO:

27 EXT. SPORTSMEN'S CAMP - LATER THAT DAY

Everything seems peaceful enough. The SOS fire (made from

burning green branches for white smoke and rubber for black

smoke) has burnt down to embers.

Eric, Anne Marie and Wilder pull up in Wilder's pickup.

The two Sportsmen sit in the front seat of the Land Rover,

but they don't react to the arrival of the rescuers. In the

back seat, a reflective camping blanket covers a large mass.

Something is amiss. Eric shoots a look of trepidation at

Anne Marie as they get out of the pickup. Wilder pulls the

door of the Land Rover open.

A Sportsman slumps out onto the ground. His eyes are open

and his tongue pokes out between his lips. His skin is

blue-white. (He looks, in fact, much like Eric's nightmare.)

Startled, Eric steps back. Anne Marie gasps with horror.

Wilder unzips the Sportsman's light windbreaker and listens

for a heartbeat. Nothing.

WILDER

Stupid goddamn greenhorns! Froze

to death.

ANNE MARIE

It's not even winter!

WILDER

They got wet in the rain. Core

body temperature dropped, got

drowsy, probably didn't even know

what was happening.

Eric stares at the dead Sportsmen.

(CONTINUED)

27 CONTINUED:

WILDER

(continuing)

Question is why they sat here

when the storm moved in. Check

their stuff while I sniff around.

Wilder tries the ignition. The starter TURNS OVER, but the

engine makes a horrendous GRINDING. He walks to the front

of the vehicle. Noticing the bullet holes in the grille, he

bends down for a closer look.

NEW ANGLE