Breakdown Page #4

AMY:

What’s he doing?

JEFF:

I don’t know.

Jeff watches the pickup, frowning. Then, from the

opposite direction, they hear a LOW RUMBLE. They turn

and stare at -

20.

MASSIVE TRACTOR-TRAILER

coming over a crest in the road.

It’s a huge eighteen-wheeler. A white 1988 Peterbilt.

It grinds into low gear and slows, BRAKES CREAKING.

The TRUCK comes to a halt with a HISS of compressed air.

DOWN HIGHWAY:

the PICKUP STARTS UP again. It pulls another U-turn and

drives away, melting into the desert.

AMY:

breathes a sigh of relief.

The driver dismounts from the cab, leaving the ENGINE

IDLING. We recognize him as the Trucker in the minimart.

He removes his cap, revealing a shock of

prematurely white hair. He is well-shaven, his clothes

immaculate. His name is Red.

RED (TRUCKER)

You folks all right?

JEFF:

Yeah. Our car broke down.

RED:

(chuckling)

I figured that much. You want a

hand pushing it off the road?

JEFF:

Thanks, I’d appreciate it. Amy,

you want to steer?

Amy gets behind the wheel and puts the shift in neutral.

Jeff and Red push the car to the shoulder. As they push,

Jeff glances at the CB antenna on Red’s cab.

JEFF:

Think you could radio a tow truck

for us?

RED:

I sure would if I could, mister,

but my C.B. blew a fuse this

morning. I’m waiting till I hit

the truck stop on I-40 to get it

fixed.

(CONTINUED)

21.

CONTINUED:

JEFF:

How far is that?

RED:

About 60 miles.

JEFF:

(disappointed)

Oh.

Red walks around to the front of the car and peers down

at the exposed engine.

RED:

I’d offer to take a look, but it’s

hard to say with these new

engines. Used to be, you could

give ’em a kick and a holler and

they’d start right up. Now it’s

all computers and chips.

JEFF:

It’s a new car.

RED:

That could be the problem. You

been running it pretty fast?

Amy gives Jeff a reprimanding look. It’s subtle, but Red

notices.

RED:

Tell you what. If you want a

ride, there’s a little diner up

the road. Belle’s. They got a

pay phone. You could call a tow

truck from there.

Jeff considers this, glances back to where the Dodge Ram

was last seen.

JEFF:

Nice of you to offer. But we’ve

got a lot of stuff in the car. I

think we’re better off waiting for

a cop to come along.

Amy rolls her eyes. Red sees the look, trying not to

smile. He glances up at a small plane flying overhead.

(CONTINUED)

22.

CONTINUED:

RED:

(casually)

Suit yourself. Not many cops on

this road, that’s why the truckers

use it. Maybe you’ll get lucky.

(tipping his cap)

Good luck.

He turns and heads back toward his truck. Amy looks at

Jeff. She waits till the trucker is out of earshot.

AMY:

Are you nuts?

JEFF:

We don’t know this guy.

AMY:

He’s offering to help. It could

be hours before anyone else comes

along. It’s 100 degrees. You

really want to be stuck out here?

JEFF:

Amy, I’ve got my equipment in the

car. All our stuff. What if

those guys come back and we’re not

here?

(turns away,

quietly to

himself)

Jesus... don’t be stupid...

Amy hears this. She’s had enough. Flares.

AMY:

Stupid is sitting out here waiting

for a cop when we already have a

ride.

In the b.g., the TRUCK is THROTTLING UP. Then, mad and

careless:

AMY:

Stupid was letting you talk me

into leaving Boston.

She turns away. The truck starts to pull out. She bites

her lip, thinking, then steps into the road and flags the

truck down. Red brakes.

AMY:

Excuse me? Do you think you could

drop me at that diner?

(CONTINUED)

23.

CONTINUED:

RED:

(surprised)

Sure thing. How about you,

mister? I could take you both

just as easy.

AMY:

That’s okay. My husband wants to

stay with the car. I’ll just get

my purse.

She goes to the passenger side of the Jeep for her purse.

Jeff follows, lowering his voice.

JEFF:

What do you think you’re doing?

AMY:

I’m going to the diner. I’m going

to call a tow truck. Then I’m

going to order an iced tea and

wait. Good-bye, Jeff.

JEFF:

(firm)

You’re not riding with that guy.

End of story.

AMY:

You wanted to be alone. Well...

you’re alone. Why don’t you take

the time to get your head

together?

She walks to the truck. Jeff stands there. She climbs

into the cab. Red moves some papers out of the way.

RED:

Watch your step, ma’am.

She pulls the door shut. The TRUCK THROTTLES UP and

pulls away. Jeff watches the truck dwindle in the

distance, flashers blinking. After a beat, the flashers

cease.

SLOW DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ROADSIDE -TWENTY MINUTES LATER

Beneath a blazing sun, Jeff paces restlessly in front of

the Cherokee, checking his watch, wiping beads of sweat

from his face. He looks down the highway.

(CONTINUED)

24.

CONTINUED:

Nothing in sight. Extremely bored, he wanders over to

the raised hood and studies the engine again.

After a few moments, something catches his eye. Curious,

he kneels down and peers under the chassis. He frowns.

JEFF’S POV -LOOSE WIRE

dangling under the engine.

BACK TO JEFF:

JEFF:

Oh for Christ’s sake...

He pulls his Swiss Army knife from his pocket and slides

under the car. Working with the screwdriver blade of the

knife, he reconnects the plug to its socket. In the

process, his hands and shirt become stained with grease.

Jeff slides out from under the car, brushes himself off

and gets behind the wheel. He tosses the Swiss Army

knife on the center console and keys the ignition. The

ENGINE ROARS to life.

CUT TO:

EXT. DESERT ROAD -MINUTES LATER

The Cherokee speeds down the empty highway.

INT. CHEROKEE -SAME TIME

Jeff drives, a determined expression.

EXT. DESERT HIGHWAY -DAY

The Jeep blows past.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. BELLE’S DINER -DAY

A weather-beaten structure with a gravel parking lot. A

peeling sign on the roof: "Belle’s: Beer & Food."

There is a phone booth outside.

The Cherokee pulls in and parks. Jeff CHIRPS the ALARM,

heads for the entrance.

25.

INT. BELLE’S -DAY

Dark and dingy. Formica tables, a bar. Chunky customers

in K-Mart clothes sit at the bar, nursing beers and

watching a football game on a big MUTED TV.

Jeff enters and all conversation stops. The other

patrons turn and stare. After a moment, they return to

their beers.

Jeff glances around. No sign of Amy. No sign of Red.

A bored-looking BARTENDER stands behind the counter,

preparing a sandwich. Behind him, a blackboard menu.

Jeff approaches.

JEFF:

Excuse me.

The Bartender looks up, a cutting knife in his hand.

JEFF:

I was supposed to meet my wife

here.

The Bartender shrugs, gives him a look: Yeah, so?

JEFF:

Dark hair, slender, about five-

five. Wearing a pale blue

Benetton shirt.

BARTENDER:

A pale blue what?

JEFF:

Benetton shirt.

The Bartender plops the sandwich on a plate, tears off an

order slip.

BARTENDER:

Hank! Your order’s ready.

(to Jeff)

I been busy. They come and go.

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