Arctic Blue Page #22

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MITCHELL:

Glad to see you're okay. I told

LeMalle not to shoot.

(tries to smile)

Had some fine seasons, didn't

we...

Mitchell's grasp on Corbett's coat relaxes as he dies.

Horrified, Eric stares at the man he killed. Noticing the

scrimshaw lying on the snow where it slipped from Mitchell's

pocket, Corbett picks it up.

CORBETT:

(to Eric)

Fifteen years on the trail with

this man, I never saw him rise to

anger.

Glaring at Eric, Corbett dips his hand in Mitchell's blood,

and suddenly smears it across Eric's mouth. Repelled, Eric

pulls back.

CORBETT:

(continuing; bitterly)

Your first kill. How does it

taste?

Wiping his face, sickened and desolate, Eric has no reply.

WIDER:

Then, from somewhere close by, LeMalle FIRES at them. Eric

stuffs the .357 in his belt and uses a brick to knock the

padlock off the back door of the depot. He pushes Corbett

inside.

210 INT. CARGO PLANE - COCKPIT

The pony-tailed, ex-hippie PILOT shuts his engines off and

removes his Walkman headphones. Hearing LeMalle's

continuing GUNSHOTS, the Pilot pulls his door closed and

turns on his two-way radio.

PILOT:

(into radio mic)

Circle, this is BMY-955. I just

touched down in Devil's Cauldron.

Nobody's here to greet me like

usual, and there's gunfire. I'm

getting scarce.

With that, he STARTS his engines up again.

CUT TO ERIC IN DEPOT

who turns, startled, when he hears the ENGINES coughing to

life OS.

211 INT. CARGO PLANE - COCKPIT

The Pilot fiddles with his controls and prepares to take

off. He looks up, surprised, as the passenger door suddenly

opens.

WIDER:

Anne Marie slides onto the seat.

ANNE MARIE:

You can't leave yet.

PILOT:

It's my responsibility to get

this aircraft out of here safely.

Anne Marie points the .44 at him.

PILOT:

(continuing)

You got to be kidding.

ANNE MARIE:

Leave the engines idling. Go

back and open the side door.

Shaking his head and muttering, the Pilot unfastens his seat

belt, climbs between the two seats to the cargo compartment,

and obliges the little lady with the big gun.

212 INT. AIRSTRIP DEPOT

The depot, as temporary-looking as the rest of Devil's

Cauldron, is a boxcar-shaped loading dock and warehouse with

a corrugated steel roof. Boxes, wood palettes and hand

dollies are piled haphazardly about.

Eric and Corbett navigate through the piles of boxes,

inching toward the front door -- the door leading to the

plane.

Suddenly, a string of overhead lights come on. Eric goes

for the .357, then stops when he sees Meyerling, Kenai and

Neff have come in the front door. Kenai stomps his feet and

shivers. Grandstanding for the others, Meyerling steps

forward.

MEYERLING:

Nobody wants any more killings;

we all agree to that, correct?

(no one argues)

That's good. Now, Eric, you're

gonna hand your prisoner over to

us.

ERIC:

F*** you.

MEYERLING:

This isn't your concern. It's

over, here and now.

CORBETT:

(to Meyerling)

Sure, when you put a bullet in my

back on the way out. Easier for

all involved.

MEYERLING:

Not a bad idea. Face it, Ben.

There's no room in Alaska for you

any more.

Meyerling pokes with his foot at a tipped-over rack of

Eskimo paraphernalia -- masks, furs, big skin drums, fish-

and bear-spears.

MEYERLING:

(continuing)

You're as antiquated as this

sh*t.

Meyerling moves toward Corbett, but Eric stands in his way.

(CONTINUED)

212 CONTINUED:

ERIC:

Keep back.

CORBETT:

You're quite a piece of work,

Meyerling. The tide changes, you

ride right along with it.

Eric looks at Neff.

ERIC:

Neff, you know better than

this...

NEFF:

You're an outsider, Mr. Desmond.

Step aside; stay out of it.

Kenai and Neff move in with Meyerling. Eric stands his

ground and reaches for the .357 in his belt.

NEW ANGLE:

Suddenly, LeMalle stumbles into the depot, the blankets and

furs dragging at his feet. His right side is bathed in

blood. Half-frozen, bled dry, he looks ready to drop down

dead. In his left hand, impossibly, he still clutches the

massive Remington.

He hoists it to his hip and grits his teeth as he BOLTS a

round into the chamber with his injured right arm. Bracing

himself, he levels the rifle at Eric.

Hearing the ACTION of the rifle, Eric turns.

Corbett reaches down, grabs a rusty Eskimo spear in both his

handcuffed hands, and hurls it.

There is a deafening ROAR as LeMalle's rifle discharges.

LeMalle flies back from the recoil -- and from the spear

stuck clear through his chest.

Some packing material above Eric's head smolders, ignited by

the muzzle blast.

NEW ANGLE:

There is a moment of silence. Corbett looks at the other

weapons near him, and then at Meyerling. Threatened,

Meyerling pulls out a .380 automatic. Before Eric can do

anything, Meyerling FIRES.

The IMPACT of the bullet throws Corbett against some boxes.

(CONTINUED)

212 CONTINUED:
(2)

With a YELL, Eric jumps Meyerling and rips the gun from his

grasp. Enraged, he pummels Meyerling with it until Kenai

and Neff pull them apart. Eric wrenches away from them and

scrambles to his feet with Meyerling's gun in his hand.

ERIC:

(continuing)

Anybody moves and I'll shoot!

Holding the .380 on them, Eric crosses to Corbett. Bleeding

from the abdomen, he's trying to stand up.

ERIC:

(continuing)

Can you walk?

CORBETT:

Wound's a through-and-through.

Missed my liver, I think.

ERIC:

Let's get out of here.

Cautiously backing away from the others, Eric helps Corbett

get up and shuffle toward the OS SOUND of the cargo plane.

213 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON - AIRSTRIP

Anne Marie jumps down from the cockpit. She and Eric lift

Corbett into the plane.

214 EXT. CARGO PLANE

as it taxis and lifts off.

215 INT. CARGO PLANE - (AERIAL SHOT)

While Eric takes Corbett's handcuffs off, Anne Marie looks

at his wound. He waves her away.

ERIC:

How come you didn't let him shoot

me?

CORBETT:

(softly)

Like I said, I'd still be up on

that mountain, frozen solid, it

wasn't for you.

ERIC:

We'll get you to a hospital, soon

as we get to Fairbanks.

(CONTINUED)

215 CONTINUED:

CORBETT:

So they can patch me up and put

me in a cage? Forget it.

Meyerling's right -- I'm a

dinosaur. Greedy bastards like

him, it's their turn with this

land. Put me in the woods, let

me live or die on my own.

He painfully pulls himself into a sitting position.

CORBETT:

(continuing; peers out

window)

Look down there, tell me what any

of this matters. Struggles of

men get swallowed by the bigness.

Soon there won't be a trace of

our troubles... or us.

ERIC:

You're wrong. Everything we do

leaves its mark. You said it

yourself -- there are hundred-

year-old footprints in the

tundra.

Too tired to argue, Corbett leans back against the window.

He takes Mitchell's scrimshaw out of his pocket and looks at

it.

EXTREME CLOSE UP - THE SCRIMSHAW

The exquisitely beautiful and detailed engraving depicts a

grizzly beside a wilderness creek, with trees and mountains

in the background.

CORBETT:

clutches the scrimshaw in his hand and closes his eyes.

NEW ANGLE - (AERIAL SHOT)

Eric sighs as he looks at the blood -- Mitchell's blood --

on the back of his hand. He stares at Corbett for a long

moment. Then, resolved, he climbs up front and says

something to the Pilot. Grumbling, the Pilot adjusts his

controls.

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