Arctic Blue Page #15

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129 EXT. WOODS NEAR THE TURTLE

Tense and silent, the trappers follow the marks. A breeze

RUSTLES the needles of the evergreens around them. They

stop at the point the footprints end. A rhythmic CREAKING

above them makes LeMalle shine his light upward.

NEW ANGLE:

The light REVEALS Wilder's feet swinging back and forth

above their heads. His body is suspended in the manner of a

trail cache. Viking Bob lets out a startled grunt. He and

Mitchell shine their lights on Wilder's face.

MITCHELL:

It's Sam Wilder!

VIKING BOB:

Musta wanted to keep him from the

bears. If Ben killed him, he

sure as hell wouldn't hang him up

like this.

MITCHELL:

Where's the kid?

(CONTINUED)

129 CONTINUED:

LEMALLE:

Who gives a husky f***? Where's

Ben?

The trappers look glumly at one another.

130 INT. UTILITY COMPARTMENT - THE TURTLE

Anne Marie jams herself behind a pile of her photo

equipment. She stops as she hears the trappers' boots (OS)

CRUNCH in the snow past her and go inside the Turtle.

131 INT. THE TURTLE

The trappers peel off their overcoats. They look around at

the comfortable surroundings.

MITCHELL:

I should get me a job with an oil

company.

He sits on the couch and lays his scrimshaw and engraving

tools out on the coffee table. LeMalle helps himself in the

well-stocked larder.

LEMALLE:

I say we eat, torch this f***in'

thing, and move on.

LeMalle digs through the cupboards and comes up with a fresh

bottle of Scotch.

VIKING BOB:

Go easy.

LEMALLE:

Cool out. I ain't about to get

blasted.

CUT TO:

132 EXT. THE TURTLE - LATER THAT NIGHT

Flashlight in hand, gloriously drunk, LeMalle stumbles

outside. He crosses to the jeep to grab a box of Twinkies

and, as long as he's at it, take a leak in a snowbank.

Bleary-eyed, he notices the damage to the utility

compartment inflicted by the bear.

He walks to it, stepping over the bear scat. He marvels at

the size and depth of the clawmarks.

(CONTINUED)

132 CONTINUED:

LEMALLE:

Big mother musta wanted something

real bad in here...

LeMalle tries the door, but it's jammed shut. He tucks his

flashlight under his arm and gives another tug. This time

the door cracks open.

CLOSER - HIS POV

He peers through the opening and shines his flashlight in.

A pair of eyes stare back at him.

WIDER:

LeMalle jumps back, startled, and pulls out his knife. He

tries the door again. It WRENCHES open...

...He's looking at his own face in one of Anne Marie's

mirrored photo reflector boards.

Letting his breath out, LeMalle pokes around the equipment

in the compartment. Ever larcenous, he pulls a few items

out, examines them, and, disinterested, leaves them in the

snow. Doing so, he comes close to uncovering Anne Marie,

who sits motionless and terrified in the back of the

compartment.

Nothing in the compartment catches LeMalle's fancy. Leaving

the door hanging open, he wanders away.

133 INT. UTILITY COMPARTMENT - THE TURTLE

After he's gone, Anne Marie reaches over and closes the

door. She can hear the trappers' (OS) CONVERSATION inside:

VIKING BOB (OS)

I know in my gut he was here.

First light, we try to get scent

of his trail.

Sighing, Anne Marie stuffs her hands inside her parka and

tries to get comfortable. It's going to be a long night.

FADE TO:

134 EXT. ENDICOTT FOOTHILLS - DAWN

Eric and Corbett wearily trudge through the woods. Corbett

has the tarp wrapped around him for extra warmth. As he

walks, he sniffs at one of Eric's Eskimo potato roots and

takes a tentative nibble.

(CONTINUED)

134 CONTINUED:

CORBETT:

Used to see the natives eating

roots when I was a kid in Nome.

ERIC:

Nome? I figure you'd be a

whaler, coming from there.

CORBETT:

Told that's what our old man was.

Planned on going to sea, me and

Bob, 'til I read Jack London.

Started trapping when I was ten.

Mailed the furs to Sears. Eight

bucks for a skunk, three for a

muskrat.

(off Eric's look)

That was fine money.

ERIC:

Killing wildlife not good enough

anymore, so you go on to bigger

and better things.

CORBETT:

You got a knack for seeing things

the way you want to see them.

They walk in silence. Corbett tightens the tarp against the

cold air and looks at Eric.

CORBETT:

(continuing)

Don't judge me. You're a joke,

coming here from a f***ed-up

culture, telling us what to do!

ERIC:

Yeah, it is f***ed up -- but it's

not too late to keep that from

happening here.

CORBETT:

(temper flaring)

All you do is keep folks from

working the land, living like

they're meant to. You don't

understand sh*t! Trappers,

hunters -- we're part of the

environment. Who's protecting

us?

(sourly)

I've seen plenty like you. So

-more-

(CONTINUED)

134 CONTINUED:
(2)

CORBETT (Cont'd)

full of yourselves there's no

room for other people's way of

life.

ERIC:

What do you know about people?

You live like an animal! A

savage goddamn throwback like you

belongs out here, as far away

from the rest of us as possible.

CORBETT:

I'm real sad you don't approve of

me.

He shoves Eric with his handcuffed hands.

CORBETT:

(continuing)

Tell me what I should do,

Professor. You got all the

answers. I shouldn't hunt?

Fine, I'll just phone up and have

a salad delivered.

Livid, Eric backs away and knocks Corbett's hands away from

him.

ERIC:

Don't push me..!

CORBETT:

Cowardly bastard. I'm in

handcuffs and I still scare the

piss out of you.

Eric smashes his fist into Corbett's face. Corbett reels

back, more surprised than hurt. Eric moves in, furiously

throwing punches. Corbett plows his clenched fists into

Eric's midsection, doubling him over. Gasping, Eric rams

his head into Corbett and they fall into the snow.

Despite the handcuffs, Corbett gets a few blows in. They

wrestle fiercely, and Eric ends up on top of Corbett. He's

about to throw another punch when Corbett looks up at him.

CORBETT:

(continuing)

First you save my ass, now you

want to kill me. Make up your

goddamn mind.

(CONTINUED)

134 CONTINUED:
(3)

Eric lowers his fist and climbs off of Corbett. Corbett

gets up and they continue on their way in sullen silence.

135 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON - DAY

Sunday morning. Chimney smoke rises straight up in the

still morning air and mingles with the wisps of fog hanging

above the Devil's Cauldron valley.

A scratchy RECORDING of a HYMN ("We Will Gather at the

River") plays through a PA system, ECHOING forlornly off the

hills. The PEOPLE of Devil's Cauldron walk through the new

snow to the center of the settlement. Some, older Women

mostly, head for the dance hall, where the HYMN originates.

136 INT. DANCE HALL

The Women SING along with the HYMN. They face a shelf

holding the PA, a rusty TV and record player. And, in front

of the shelf, an unmanned pulpit.

137 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON

The Men, including Neff, split off from their mates and go

into the Maqi.

138 INT. MAQI

Neff joins some other Men sweating on benches in the

primitive steam bath. Kenai sits closest to the fire. His

thick glasses are steamed up, but he finally looks warm.

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