Arctic Blue Page #2

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6INT. 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.

7INT. 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.

8INT. 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 f*** 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.

9EXT. 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, a**hole.

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 f***er?

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 f***in' 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 sh*t. 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 f***in' 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.

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