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Apt Pupil Page #6
DUSSANDER:
In railroad cars marked "Medical Supplies."
It came in long crates that looked like coffins.
TODD:
That's fitting. Was it always Zyklon-B?
The cat jumps into Dussander's lap again. He throws it down,
this time harder.
DUSSANDER:
No, from time to time we would be sent
something else. Experimental gases. The
High Command was always interested in
improving efficiency. Once they sent us a
gas code-named "Pegasus." A nerve gas.
Thank God they never sent it again. It...
Todd sits up a little, leaning in.
TODD:
It what?
DUSSANDER:
It didn't work very well. It was quite boring.
TODD:
Bullshit. You're lying. What did it do?
DUSSANDER:
It killed them. What do you think it did,
made them walk on water? It killed them.
The cat jumps up a third time. This time Dussander picks it up
and tosses it a good six feet. The animal hits the ground and runs away.
TODD:
Tell me.
(slurps on his Coke)
Tell me.
DUSSANDER:
I won't. I refuse. Where are my cigarettes?
He finds the pack and fumbles a cigarette to his lips. He
lights it. Todd watches calmly, giving the old man a moment to
collect himself, and then...
TODD:
What did it do?
DUSSANDER:
It made them dance.
TODD:
Dance?
DUSSANDER:
Like Zyklon-B, it came in through the shower
heads. After a few seconds the prisoners
began to leap about. Some were screaming.
Most of them were laughing. They began to
vomit and to... to defecate helplessly.
TODD:
You mean they... they... sh*t themselves?
...Woah.
But Dussander ignores him, staring out into the yard as he
begins to remember more easily.
DUSSANDER:
They began to twitch all over and make high,
strange sounds in their throats. At last
they collapsed and just lay there on the
concrete, twitching and yodeling, with blood
streaming from their noses. But I lied to
you, boy. It didn't kill them. Either
because it wasn't strong enough or because we
couldn't bring ourselves to wait that long.
I suppose it was that. I sent five men in
with rifles to end their agonies. These were
five men I trusted. It would have looked bad
on my record to have wasted so many
cartridges at a time when the Fuehrer had
declared every cartridge a national resource.
I was always given high marks for efficiency.
TODD:
Yeah, I bet.
Dussander looks down at the remains of the meal in his lap. As
if his own story has suddenly disgusted him, he balls the food
up in its wrapper and shoves it into the paper bag.
DUSSANDER:
How do you eat this crap everyday?
TODD:
Why didn't you just do the job yourself? You
carried a gun, didn't you?
DUSSANDER:
(incredulous)
I was the commandant of the camp.
TODD:
DUSSANDER:
(getting frustrated)
The entire world was at war, boy. People died.
TODD:
That's not a real answer. I'm asking about
you.
DUSSANDER:
Boy, I was a soldier in a position of power.
You don't get to be there by selling ...girl
scout's cookies.
TODD:
I know what the SS was, Dussander. Who are
you talking to? It was a bunch of dumb, rich
kids who bought their way into the service so
they wouldn't have to go fight on the front.
Dussander stares at Todd, wanting to say something. Todd
shovels a few more fries into his mouth, then looks up and sees
Dussander eyeing him.
DUSSANDER:
That's enough for today, boy. I beg you.
I'm tired.
TODD:
Yeah, fine. That was good story though. You
always tell them good, once I get you started.
ANGLE on Dussander.
DUSSANDER'S DREAM #1: EXT. OPEN FIELD - DAY
Dussander is asleep in his bed. A low groaning sound comes in
very slowly. Dussander's eyes open. He sits up, looks around,
sees that his bed is in the middle of a large open field. It is
grassy, but certainly not beautiful. Something is wrong about
this place.
He stands out of the bed, wearing pajamas. But it is cold. He
takes the sheet and wraps himself in it. The groaning is
getting louder, more human. We have never seen him frightened,
until now. He steps a few paces from the bed. The groans have
becomes low screams. There is no where to go. Slowly, as if he
knows what he's going to see, he looks down at the ground. It's
just grass. But the human voices are now wailing desperately.
His knees buckle, but he tries to fight it. He reaches his
knees and lowers his head toward the ground. The white sheet
flows around him and blows off in a gust of wind. The screams
are now at a feverish pitch. His ear is inches from the grass
and his eyes, marked with unmistakable terror, are wide open
as...
INT. DUSSANDER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Dussander bolts upright in his bed.
EXT. OUTDOOR SHOOTING RANGE - DAY
RICHARD (DICK) BOWDEN, 38, is a taller, grayer version of his
son. He stands over Todd's shoulder watching him shoot at a
paper target. He still has on a tie from work, but the knot has
been loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up. Both Dick and
Todd wear headphones and orange shooting glasses. Dick chews
gum. They are alone on the range.
Todd fires a few rounds from his father's .30-.30. A strained
tension exists between the two Bowdens.
DICK:
You're tight. Don't hold your breath so long.
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"Apt Pupil" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/apt_pupil_206>.
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