Cast Away Page #14

"1000 DAYS LATER"

REFLECTION - WATER

A spear shimmers in the calm morning water. Attached to the

spear is a man, standing completely still.

ON CHUCK:

We move up out of the reflection to the real man. His legs

are scarred. The remnants of a dress wrap around his middle.

A stone knife on a neatly mounted haft is stuck in a belt

made of videotape and woven fiber. Necklaces of shark's

teeth and shells hang from his neck. His hair is long. A

coconut frond hat is on his head.

The hand wrapped around the spear is scarred and brown as a

berry. It holds the spear perfectly still. The watch is

gone.

We come around slowly until we see Chuck's face. The eyes

say it all. They stare out with a survivor's intensity,

staring at the water, unblinking. This is the man who used

to splash futilely about in the water trying to fish.

This is the FedEx man who was plugged into the tumult of

activity and energy, surrounded by technology and human

activity at its most intense, devoted to making seconds

count. Now he is utterly alone, and utterly still.

And now he has all the time in the world.

Suddenly, without an once of wasted motion, he shoots the

spear forward at a low angle. It quivers, stuck on the

bottom. He pulls it out with a practiced twist. On the end

is a struggling fish.

But this isn't a thrill anymore. It's another day at the

office.

EXT. BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

Chuck makes a mark on a palm tree. He has completely covered

three other trees with marks. It sinks in how long he has

been here.

EXT. JUNGLE - LATER

Chuck carries the fish back from the beach. Now there is a

well-worn trail.

INT. CAVE - THAT AFTERNOON

Chuck enters with the fish. We are greeted with the well-

ordered lair of a primitive stone-age man.

Clam shell spirals weave in and out around the fire hole.

Strips of eel jerky and fish hang drying from racks.

Tools are lined up neatly: digging sticks, stone hammers and

saws, spears neatly hafted onto shafts, drills, awls. Bits

and pieces of feathers, skins, bones, rags, leaves -- are all

neatly arranged. Strings and cords hang from hooks. Coconut

bowls and cooking rocks form a small kitchen. A raincoat and

rain-hat woven of palm fronds is neatly draped over a frame.

Evocative pieces of driftwood decorate the room. A wind

chime of obsidian flakes sways gently. The watch hangs on a

stick.

The Angel Box has the place of honor on one side. On the

other side the Wilson soccer ball rests on a throne of rocks.

Seaweed has been placed on the ball as hair. Clam shells

have been stuck on for eyes, other shells form a mouth. A

tube shell and conch form a pipe.

INT. CAVE - FIRE - NIGHT

The fish are being smoke under a palm frond. Eel skins hang

from sticks, roasting. Chuck sits by the fire, hafting a

stone knife onto a wooden haft.

He ties some fiber to a stick, then braids it into string,

using both hands and his mouth for the three strands.

He ties the string tightly around the shaft. He does his

work automatically.

INT. CAVE - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck eats some fish and some mashed breadfruit. He chews

each bite, his eyes in distant focus. The firelight flickers

on his face.

EXT. CLIFF - SUNRISE

Chuck carries firewood up to the summit. He mechanically

adds wood to the fire. As he does so, something out to sea

catches his eye. He stops and stands up.

CHUCK'S POV - WHALES

WHALES broach out past the rocky point. Spouts of water

shoot into the air.

ON CHUCK:

As he watches them, a light comes back into his eyes. He

grins. There's a big gap where his teeth had been. He turns

and strides down the hill.

EXT. CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER

He heads across the rock bridge that once had so terrified

him, without losing stride. It's second nature now.

INT. CAVE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck enters the cave, picks up the ball and heads out.

EXT. SUMMIT - EVENING

The signal fire burns. A spectacular cloudy sunset lights up

the sky. Chuck sits with Wilson on the summit, a bowl of

mashed breadfruit in one hand, a bowl of roasted eel skin in

another.

As Chuck watches the sunset unfold, watches the whales going

by in the darkened water, he takes some roasted eel chips,

dips them into the breadfruit paste, and offers one to

Wilson. His voice is flat, monotonal.

CHUCK:

Chips? Dip?

But Wilson declines.

CHUCK:

No?

He takes a big crunchy bite.

CHUCK:

Another f***ing day in paradise.

PULL BACK as the sun goes down and Chuck reaches into the

bowl again and dips an eel skin chip in the dip.

EXT. ROCKY LEDGE - NIGHT - LATER

Torch in one hand, Wilson in the other, Chuck walks across

the rocky ledge. He passes the flume without even noticing.

Suddenly his shoe breaks! It's sandal made of woven yucca

leaves.

He bends down and fixes it, then heads on down the ledge.

EXT. LEDGE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck makes a casual leap, a leap he has made hundreds of

times, but this time the sandal comes loose. It catches on a

rock, and CHUCK FALLS!

His hands are cut and bruised. He tries to get up, can't.

Chuck sits back and examines his foot. His fingers come back

covered with blood. He reaches out to steady himself, and

leaves a HANDPRINT OF BLOOD on the rock.

INT. CAVE - LATER

Chuck wraps his foot in bandages.

INT. CAVE - LATER

Chuck's face is sweaty. He looks down at his foot. It is

red, swollen, infected. He stands up, tries to put some

weight on it. The pain is intense.

Chuck sticks the scalpel onto some coals to sterilize it. He

holds it over his foot, takes a breath, then jabs in into the

wound. The pain is intense. Chuck passes out.

INT. CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck stirs, takes a drink, weakly tosses on another log, and

collapses back on the floor.

INT. CAVE - DAY

Chuck wakes up, trembling, shaking, wet with sweat. He

staggers up. His shadow sways on the wall of the cave. He

struggles to get another log on the fire. He squints at his

only companion, the soccer ball.

CHUCK:

Help me, Wilson...

He collapses again.

INT. CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck stirs and squints his eyes. He takes a drink of water.

He is feeling better. He puts another log on the fire and

slowly begins to chew on some breadfruit and dried fish.

EXT. BEACH - LATER

Chuck slowly wades into the water, favoring his injured foot.

But something feels different. He glances around. What is

it? And then he sees something, perhaps the worst possible

sight.

CHUCK'S POV - SAIL

A SAIL is moving steadily away from the island.

CHUCK:

Throws down the spear and waves his arms.

CHUCK:

No! Wait! Come back!

He runs into the water and starts to swim. He is so weak,

however, he can only make a few strokes. He tries to yell as

he swims...

CHUCK:

Wait! Wait!

Choking and weak, he turns back and drags himself up on the

beach. In the b.g., the sail dwindles into the distance.

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