American Sniper Page #13

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AN RPG burns down the alley, screaming between them and

EXPLODES INTO SNIPER NEST. As dust clouds the night-

THE BUTCHER:

Slips through smoke, shooting his way to a getaway truck.

CHRIS:

Contact. Eyes on The Butcher. 12 o’clock.

MORE INSURGENTS, push up the alley, covering him.

CHRIS:

(keys mike)

Dauber? You got visual? Confirm.

(03.18.14) 74.

SNIPER NEST:

Dauber struggles from under debris.

DAUBER:

Negative. No shot-

CHRIS:

Advancing along the wall. The Butcher jumps into a truck.

CHRIS:

He’s on the move. Crossing!

Biggles side-steps into the street, attracting fire,

downing MULTIPLE INSURGENTS as--

BIGGLES:

Got you. Got you. Go, go, go-

Chris dodges behind him, running into the next street

(parallel with truck) hoping for a shot-

NEXT INTERSECTION

As Chris arrives, the GETAWAY TRUCK roars past a block to

the north. He continues at a dead-sprint but-

At next intersection, he’s lost more ground. He halts,

sucking wind, GALLIC CROSS TATTOO visible on his forearm.

ABOVE (LOOKING OUT)

A YOUNG SHADOW stands in the window, watching the soldier

below. She picks up an old Nokia Cellular, dialing-

95 INT. MUSTAFA’S ROOM, UNKNOWN BUILDING 95

Incense wafts over oiled components of a DRAGUNOV SNIPER

RIFLE laid out on a prayer rug. A CELL BUZZES and is

answered. A few words and-- HANDS ENTER FRAME, assembling

the rifle. The metallic snap-and-slide escalating as we--

PAN TO the wall, the GALLIC CROSS depicted beside a

sniper rifle on a faded CHRIS KYLE BOUNTY POSTER there.

BACK TO:

TIRE FIRES spit tendrils of black smoke. We are-

(03.18.14) 75.

96 EXT. FAHIM HALAL - NIGHT 96

A four way intersection, neighbors pouring into streets.

An angry crowd hoists the FATHER’S BODY in the air as a

MESSIANIC TRIBAL LEADER riles them with chants. THE SON

stands up-front, small hands fisted, glaring at CHRIS.

CHRIS:

(can’t take eyes off son)

I offered his father detention. I gavehim a choice--

MASTER CHIEF MARTIN

He picked the wrong f***ing side. That’s

all there is to it. Fog of war.

THE CROWD growing in tension and number.

PFC ALVAREZ:

Sir, we have armed insurgents moving thisway. We need to make tracks.

MASTER CHIEF MARTIN

(hops in Bradley)

Helluva an effort here, Chief. You keepafter this bastard. We’ll get him.

As they roar off, Chris pulls Terp over to the TRIBALLEADER whose SHOCKING GREEN EYES reflect firelight.

CHRIS KYLE:

Tell him this boy’s father was fighting

for the people that butchered the clericswe found in the freezer in there.

DISTANT ALLEY:

A flutter of robes. A rusty gate pushed open by an OLDMAN. Mustafa slips past, brushing the man’s shoulder in

thanks. Breath in cadence with step, his head turns up--

Smoke plumes into night, their signal leading him ahead.

CHRIS/TRIBAL LEADER

Terp translates, Tribal Leader responds violently--

TERP:

- This is our territory. If you want tocome here, you ask me. If you want tofind someone, I find them-

(03.18.14) 76.

BIGGLES (OC)

(atop Humvee, on the .60)

F*** ‘em. Let’s go. Sh*t’s getting hairy.

CHRIS KYLE:

(to Tribal Leader)

If I ask for your help you’re the one

they carve up next. I’ve seen it happen.

A crowd of 300 chanting, as Terp translates.

ALLEY:

TWO MEN stand by a 12 foot wall. A dark shape sprints

toward them. One man kneels, the other braces him. The

reflective swoosh catches light as--

Mustafa runs up the man’s back, leaping onto the wall.

CHRIS/TRIBAL LEADER

Tribal Leader rages, crowd at his back, eyes on fire-

TERP:

-I am the seventh son of Isaac of

Abraham. This is the land of my father,

and I am not afraid.-He says your evil

is greater than those you fight. He calls

you white satan, devil of Ramadi.

Venom peels across Chris’ face and makes it appear true.

A Nike swoosh reflects from a near rooftop.

NEARBY ROOFTOP:

Nikes cross gravel. Mustafa kneels. Unfolds his bi-pod.

CHRIS/TRIBAL LEADER

CHRIS KYLE:

You tell him to deliver The Butcher to

us, or the devil comes back.

MUSTAFA SCOPE POV

CROSS-HAIRS TRACK past smoke blown sideways, trash

gusting-- FIND CHRIS as he turns for the Humvee. Cross-

hairs leading him, compensating for windage.

As he pauses his exhale-- THE FATHER’S BODY is hoisted in

the air. Mustafa tries to adjust as his SHOT RINGS OUT--

(03.18.14) 77.

97 EXT. HUMVEE (PULLING AWAY) 97

THE ROUND HITS the shield. BIGGLES fires at the rooftop.

Bullets strafing night as the Humvee door closes and they

roar off. A PUNISHER SKULL drawn in grease on his shield,

gleams in the moonlight. Mustafa’s shot struck the

Punisher in the eye. PUSH ON the teeth of the logo and-

DISSOLVE TO:

CHRIS’ LONG FINGERS pressed to the glass. SFX: his breath

rattles quietly over following scenes. We are--

98 EXT. MATERNITY WARD, SAN DIEGO 98

CHRIS stares into the nursery window where his NEWBORN

DAUGHTER CRIES. The air thick and dreamlike around him.

TAYA (VO)

The news is saying the war is over.

CHRIS (VO)

It’s not over.

TAYA (VO)

But are we winning?

CHRIS (VO)

I don’t know...

TWO NURSES walk past his daughter. Chris bangs on the

glass, trying to get their attention.

CHRIS:

Hey, some help here-- She’s crying-

He pounds the glass. The nurses don’t hear him. SFX: THE

MECHANISTIC BUZZ of power-tools overwhelms the scene-

TRANSITION TO:

99 INT. JIFFY LUBE - DAY 99

PAN ACROSS GUMBALL MACHINES and TOY DISPENSERS on the

wall. The POWER TOOLS whining as COLTON(3) holds a toy,

pissed it’s not the one he wanted.

COLTON:

But I want that one--

(03.18.14) 78.

CHRIS:

(the air still thick, his

words spoken from afar)

You don’t get to choose, bubba.

COLTON:

But I don’t like it! I want that one-

THE DRILL BUZZES in the garage. Chris’ nerves fraying.

CHRIS:

You get what it gives you. That’s how

this thing works.

Colton melts to the floor crying. CUSTOMERS looking now.

CHRIS:

Don’t do this. Get up. Come on-

THROUGH VIEWING WINDOW-- THE MAN with the drill is

visible. Dark hair like The Butcher, turning toward us-

RECEPTIONIST (OC)

Chris Kyle, your truck is ready.

CHRIS:

(snaps-to; to Colton)

Get off the floor. Right now--

MAN’S VOICE (OC)

Excuse me, sir.

A YOUNG MAN steps too close. Chris rears up, defensive.

YOUNG MAN:

Are you... “Chief” Chris Kyle?

CHRIS:

That’s me.

YOUNG MAN:

Sorry to intrude, sir, but we met in

Fallujah. You saved my life.

CHRIS:

Did I--?

YOUNG MAN/VETERAN

Yes, sir. My name is Mads. We were

trapped in a house when you showed up

with 1st Marines. You carried me out.

(03.18.14) 79.

CHRIS:

(lifetimes ago, but)

Yeah. Right. Well, you Marines saved our

ass plenty out there. How you holding up?

MADS/YOUNG VETERAN

Great, sir. I’m grateful to be alive. It

hasn’t been easy but-

He lifts his pant-leg and shows an ARTIFICIAL LEG.

MADS:

It cost lots of guys more than a leg.

CHRIS:

Did you lose some friends?

MADS:

That too, but I’m talking about guys that

lived. They made it back but they’re just

not back. They can’t seem to get right.

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